Best 2475 quotes in «photography quotes» category

He'd never need a camera to remember this, and damn if he ever wanted anyone but him to see her like she was at this moment.

He who seeks beauty will find it.

How can we hold onto those fleeting moments in our lives? Hold onto the moments that otherwise evaporate into the forgotten past? Or moments that become faded and morphed into our own version of reality as they sit in the corners of our memories, losing their truth and shifting focus? The only way to hold onto these moments and share them for years to come, in all their beauty and truth and glorious imperfections, without losing accuracy is through a photograph.

He nods, looking through the pictures on the screen on the back of his camera. Some relationships can only exist as memories. But unlike ephemeral digital images that can be sorted and deleted, we can’t erase the past. We have to learn to live with all the images that are stored in love's archive, memories tagged good and bad. No Photoshopping. Accept the negative before moving forward.

He wanted to live life to the extreme, but without any mess or complications. He wanted to live life in such a way that if a photograph were taken at random, it would be a cool photograph. Things should look right. Fun; there should be a lot of fun and no more sadness than absolutely necessary.

I am a firm believer that digital imaging has already rivaled the chemical process in its ability to make fine prints. An exceptional digital print, on a fine quality paper, can take on all the delicacy of a masterful photogravure. Each is, after all, ink on paper. The unfortunate thing is that skillful digital fine art photography is being created by so few, and today’s artworld is brimming with hastily made, conceptually oriented, digital bric-a-brac.

I always see the crack in the glass before I see the window.

How promising today's generation is. They can whip out their cellular phones like sheep, instantly take a million digital photos of their cat and then just delete them. But I'd like to see these kids try to artfully use a traditional film camera or make a super 8 home movie. Traditional film takes integrity, nostalgia, effort, patience and imagination - things that the 21st century has very little of. Everything these days, even a superior medium like film photography with an extensively vivid history and an iconic meaning, is becoming disposable in this age.

I believe all photographers want to be remembered for their images. They reflect a piece of their soul.

I believe, in life, there is no such thing as a bad idea. Only ideas that work and ideas that do not.

I cannot make your memories, But I can save some for you.

I believe that, through the act of living, the discovery of oneself is made concurrently with the discovery of the world around us, which can mold us, but which can also be affected by us. A balance must be established between these two worlds—the one inside us and the one outside us.

I also have to add that if Rembrandt had been given a camera then that guys understanding of light and form would have blown the rest of us shooters into a black hole of despair.

i dream my photograph, and i photograph my dream...

I expect you know what this is, don’t you?” Rincewind stared down at the box. It had a round glass eye protruding from the center of one face, and a lever at the back. Not wholly”, he said. It’s a device for making pictures quickly”, said Twoflower. „Quite a new invention. I’m rather proud of it but, look, I don’t think these gentlemen would – well, I mean they might be – sort of apprehensive? Could you explain it to them? I’ll reimburse them for their time, of course.” He’s got a box with a demon in it that draws pictures”, said Rincewind shortly. Do what the madman says and he’ll give you gold.

If a picture is worth a thousand words, why did God invent captions?

I feel that the Photograph creates my body or mortifies it, according to its caprice (apology of this mortiferous power: certain Communards paid with their lives for their willingness or even their eagerness to pose on the barricades: defeated, they were recognized by Thiers's police and shot, almost every one).

If Life worked on auto mode then manual mode for photography would have never existed.

I developed a thirst for great art, but it wasn’t until I was 20 that I finally visited my first museum, the Prado in Madrid. There, in 1968, my interest was caught by the paintings of Luis de Morales, a 16th-century artist from the harsh Extremadura region of Spain. Morales was a Mannerist, like El Greco or Parmigianino, who painted very graceful figures with long necks and limbs. He did a magnificently smooth sfumato modelling. But the effect that impressed me the most was a fine line that he applied around all of his figures. He didn’t need those illustrative lines, but they really made his figures ‘pop’ off the background.

If it can happen in your mind, it can happen in your camera

I don't need a day to celebrate as world photography day. As a photographer for me every day is photography day.

If the eye does not see, the camera would not either

If life worked on auto mode then there manual mode for photography would have never existed.

If you don’t capture the moments, it will be gone forever.

If your photo looks happy while you are unhappy, then the photo has no meaning! If your photo looks unhappy while you are happy, again the photo has no meaning! Only if a photo captures your true emotions, it will be meaningful!

if you have the tools but do not have the visual concept, the tools do not work

If you're waiting for a sign from the skies to become a great photographer, the extraordinary images that suddenly appear before you are exactly those signs you are looking for!

I had a dream about you last night. We were in your old Civic. Nine Inch Nails was turned up on the stereo and I was taking pictures of you behind the wheel with my disposable camera. We went through the drive through at El Pollo Loco, placed an order for a hundred bucks worth of food, and then just drove off at the window. I miss being stupid with you.

If the same visual seen differently by different persons they will be photographers.

I have a print - you can buy them at the Victoria and Albert Museum - of a photograph of the village street of Thetford, taken in 1868, in which William Smith is not. The street is empty. There is a grocer's shop and a blacksmith's and a stationary cart and a great spreading tree, but not a single human figure. In fact William Smith - or someone, or several people, dogs too, geese, a man on a horse - passed beneath the tree, went into the grocer's shop, loitered for a moment talking to a friend while the photograph was taken but he is invisible, all of them are invisible. The exposure of the photograph - sixty minutes - was so long that William Smith and everyone else passed through it and away leaving no trace. Not even so much of a mark as those primordial worms that passed through the Cambrian mud of northern Scotland and left the empty tube of their passage in the rock. I like that. I like that very much. A neat image for the relation of man to the physical world. Gone, passed through and away.

I guess if there’s one thing I can say about the 21st century, it’s that the 21st century is all flash and no substance… everything is digital, nothing but files of invisible electronic data on computers and mindless zombies on their cellular phones… it’s sad how because of the digital age, society is ultimately doomed. Nothing in the digital age is real anymore, and you know, they say celluloid film and ray tube televisions and maybe even paper might become obsolete in this century? …What’s most annoying is that nobody cares, they’ve just learned to accept the digital age and get addicted to it… none of them are ever going to step up and say to the world, “you’re all a bunch of sheep!” and even if they did say anything, I doubt anyone would listen… they’re all too obsessed and attached to their cellular phones and overly big televisions and whatever other moronic things they’ve got these days… it almost makes me want an apocalypse to happen, to erase digital technology and force the world to start over again.

I grew up in an era that was a golden age of the blockbuster, when something we might call a family film could have universal appeal. That's something I want to see again. In terms of the tone of the film, it looks at where we are as a people and has a universality about human experience.

I have a dream… photography allows me to share it with you.

I look for ambiguity because life is ambiguous!

I have found my way, step by step, proceeding from touch points that have emerged, some through conscious choice and some through dream state discovery.

I have always loved being behind the camera. I love how it sets you apart in a crowd, so that you can float at the edges, pausing only occasionally to capture a moment. In its own way it’s easier than writing. As a writer, I have to know people, to talk to them, to barge into silences with a dozen of those little lighthearted quips that lead up to a conversation. And even then, they’re guarded around you. Nobody wants their drunken conversation written down somewhere. Being a photographer is different. People come to you. They smile. They flirt. They make sure you see only their best side. Nobody wants to upset the camera.

In an inexplicable way he was quite different from anyone else....He was smallish, neat, solidly built....Possibly he was a man who at once became self-conscious before a camera. Even snapshots tend to give him an air of swagger, a kind of cockiness he did not possess at all. [On. F. Scott Fitzgerald]

I'm not constantly looking for the "right" in my thoughts. I am, actually, scared of absolute “rights”. Therefore, I don't think my book will appeal to people who seek concrete formulas from me to be happy and who have designed their lives mechanically. But I do believe my book can give something to people who live their lives going from information to information like a bee, who depend on their own syntheses as the outcomes and have flexible thought, and who could be an "individual".

I nearly believe you. The challenge remains extended-make me believe you -- Benjamin

Incluso en esos días, los fotográfos de Geographic tenían fama por algo más que las fotografías. Como uno de ellos expresó recientemente, "me encantaría haber vivido la vida que la gente cree que he tenido". Si la dinámica imagen del fotográfo de Geographic parece exagerada en novelas, folclore y cine, bueno, su vida es todavía nada aburrida. Nuestros equipos fotográficos han sobrevivido a ataques de tiburones, ejércitos invasores, aviones estrellados y volcanes en erupción.

in photography and as in life, it is the strong contrasts between dualities that make things interesting and beautiful...particularly speaking, darkness has to exist and be present in order for light to glow, and have meaning and purpose

In our time photojournalists were as important as the writers. Today not so. Photojournalism is diminishing. Now everyone is a free artist, which can only be in photography. For he is taking pictures! Releases the shutter and becomes an artist. Godsend people they are, otherwise the world was doomed. They are so significant. I fear bumping into one of these celebrities walking in the street, which would be very disrespectful indeed.

In a few years, it is very likely that this series will be considered a milestone in the history of Singapore photography.

În spatele fiecărei fotografii, în afară de plăcere și bucurie, se află teama, teama de timpul care trece, de vremelnicia lui, teama de a vedea și apoi de a nu mai vedea, de a trăi și apoi de a nu mai trăi, de a fi trăit fără să lași vreo urmă doveditoare, vreo amintire tangibilă; în spatele fiecărei fotografii se află teama de a muri și dovada morții noastre.

În spatele fiecărei fotografii se află teama de a muri și dovada morții noastre.

In successful photography, you don't just look alive at the photo, but the photo also looks alive at you!

In the dry places, men begin to dream. Where the rivers run sand, there is something in man that begins to flow. West of the 98TH Meridian - where it sometimes rain and it sometimes doesn’t – towns, like weeds, spring up when it rains, dry up when it stops. But in a dry climate, the husk of the plant remains. The stranger might find, as if preserved in amber, something of the green life that was once lived there, and the ghosts of men who have gone on to a better place. The withered towns are empty, but not uninhabited. Faces sometimes peer out from the broken windows, or whisper from the sagging balconies, as if this place – now that is dead – had come to life. As if empty it is forever occupied. Reproduced in THE BORSCHT BELT from The Works of Love by Wright Morris by permission of the University of Nebraska Press. Copyright 1949, 1951 by Wright Morris.

In the parlor was a huge camera on wheels like the ones used in public parks, and the backdrop of a marine twilight, painted with homemade paints, and the walls papered with pictures of children at memorable moments: the first Communion, the bunny costume, the happy birthday. Year after year, during contemplative pauses on afternoons of chess, Dr. Urbino had seen the gradual covering over of the walls, and he had often thought with a shudder of sorrow that in the gallery of casual portraits lay the germ of the future of the city, governed and corrupted by those unknown children, where note even the ashes of his glory would remain.

In the years that I could not see him, I came to know my father through the medium of photography. My perceptions of him were forged on black-and-white squares that stole an instant out of history and immortalized it between the pages of a family album. When I summoned up the image of the man, it came to me frozen, black-bordered, flat. He stood pale above the creases of his uniform, framed in the foamy wake of some ship, drops of sunlight caught in the buttons on his jacket. He winked at me from the liberty ports of countless exotic places. In an atrocious hand he scrawled stilted, affectionate words to the stranger that bore his name and his features, telling of adventures far away, misbehavings under suns hotter than that which shone over the Greater German Reich.

In a field where else you found a stack of revealing nature photographs, of supernude nature photographs, split beaver of course nature photographs, photographs full of 70s bush, nature taking come from every man from miles around, nature with come back to me just dripping from her lips. The stack came up to your eye, you saw: nature is big into bloodplay, nature is into extreme age play, nature does wild inter- racial, nature she wants you to pee in her mouth, nature is dead and nature is sleeping and still nature is on all fours, a horse it fucks nature to death up in Oregon, nature is hot young amateur redheads, the foxes are all in their holes for the night, nature is hot old used-up cougars, nature makes gaping fake-agony faces, nature is consensual dad- on-daughter, nature is completely obsessed with twins, nature doing specialty and nature doing niche, exotic females they line up to drip for you, nature getting paddled as hard as you can paddle her, oh a whitewater rapid with her ass in the air, high snowy tail on display just everywhere.