Enseigner les maths aux “non-matheux”

Si seulement j’avais lu ça avant de commencer à bosser au collège l’an dernier. Pour être honnête, les bouquins modernes sont plutôt bien faits et contiennent de la matière à faire des trucs sympas. Et les programmes s’orientent dans ce sens. Mais dans la pratique …

Teaching Math to People Who Think They Hate It – The Atlantic

Where I capture a past that never happened

When I think of my hometown, it’s usually at dusk on a winter’s night; it just stopped raining, the sky is dark and the streets are glistening. I’m not sure why I’ve constructed this particular moment in my mind. Maybe because, on my way back from class, it was the only time when I truly felt alone with myself, free of the worries of home and school.
Whatever the reason, it’s something I thought I’d try and recapture when I went back to Nancy in the winter for the first time in years. So I got dropped off in the suburb next to my old high school, and made my way by bus and foot to the historical center.
Unfortunately, it hadn’t rained that day, so the streets weren’t glistening, but I did have loads of fun trying to recapture the completely artificial image that I had in my mind.

Photography resources

Have you ever tried to find links to people and images that matter in the history of photography? It’s kind of a nightmare….

A bunch of people, who met at the GPP conference in Dubail in 2013 and in 2014, have gotten together and pieced a list of resources that they have found useful, one way or another, in learning about photography as a form of expression.

These resources are exclusively focused on photographers and their production. There is nothing here about gear. Not because it’s not important, but because it’s not the point.
There is also no judgment of value on these artists. Some of these I hate, some of these I love, and you’ll have your own favorites. Again, that’s not the point.

The point is to educate your taste, so you can build your own style, one day.

I’ll leave you with this quote from André Gide:

“Everything that needs to be said has already been said. But since no one was listening, everything must be said again”

and the admonishement to read “Steal Like an Artist” by Austin Kleon

“By Tuesday, you’ll hate me”

These are the first words I remember from DAH when I introduced myself the day before class. I remember thinking that it was hype and bluster. How hard could it be?

By Tuesday I was hating him, photography, Dubai, myself and the world.

But let’s get one thing out if the way first: I don’t recommend you take this course.

Yes: It’s the best course I’ve ever taken in my life. But I don’t recommend you take it.

Look, I don’t know you. I don’t know if you have what it takes. Hell, I didn’t know myself if I had what it takes. So on this one, you’re on your own. You’re going to have to take an adult decision. Do you feel you have what it takes? Then go do it. The question, of course, is what does it take?

So what happens during these mysterious sessions?

For the most part, I was trying not to fall asleep, because I’d been up shooting and editing late (yes, partying was involved, but any good GPPer will tell you it’s part of the process.) For another part, I was fascinated and terrorized by my classmate’s portfolios. They were better than me technically. They were more creative. They had better access or better gear. Anything to feed the self doubt.
And then of course, there were the minutes when my own pictures were up on that wall. Typical aphorism: “Your bad pictures are closer to good than your good ones.”
So from the outside, all that happens is that David spends his time looking at our stuff, commenting on it and editing it (as in “no, no, no, no, maybe, no, no …”) And he spends time in between telling us to get an education on photography.
So on the face of it, not much happens.

Okay, but what really happens?

The worse for me was the lack of structure. No guidance, no chapters. Just: “Find a subject”, “Find a place”. “Go shoot.”
But just like in real life the journey matters more than the destination.
And the journey is simple: Find a subject, try to shoot it, show your pictures, go shoot again. Rinse, Repeat.
The trick, of course, is when it fails. That’s where you learn.

As Sara Lando put it in a tweet to me when I was feeling particularly down:

@TSWDAH he’s busy tearing you apart. The beer will come later, when you’ll staple the pieces back together.
And she was absolutely right.

Frankly, I wanted to believe her, but I don’t think I could.
It took three days of me failing.
In the end, David sat me down and told me that I was biting too much, that I wanted to say too much:

“Not everything you can articulate is easy or worth shooting”.

“Find something small and shoot it. Anders Petersen shot the same cafe for three years. “

As frustrating as it was, this was the turning point of my week. Kaya, a Burn editor and David’s assistant, mentionned a fisherman’s accomodation in the middle of Dubai she thought was worth shooting. I grasped at that idea like a lifeboat, and ran with it.

High as a kite

When I got to the warf I was determined to get the shots, and not move until I got them. So I stayed for 3 hours in a space not much larger than my bedroom. And shot, and talked to the guys, and shot again. At the end, I didn’t know if I had a good shot, but I had a new facebook friend who was calling me “photoman”. And I had a sense of the place that allowed me to capture it much better. On the contact sheets, I feel I can see the pictures becoming better and better.
And this waiting through the “bored” state is when I almost hit paydirt. At prayer call, the fishermen were wrapping up their day, we started saying goodbye – and in a reflex, I asked if I could see their accomodation. They were more than happy to oblige, and we started going in. Unfortunately, because it’s a government building, there’s a guard there who was kind of surprised to see me. After some palaver, he agreed that I could go see a room … but balked at the camera.
Yet that night, I was so sure I had something that I put together a slide show with some music (my wife can be your sound designer too, for a fee). When at the next morning critique David turned to me to say “You got it …”, I can’t tell you the sense of elation I felt then and there – until the “… but go get that shot of their room – without it, you got nothing” …. aaaaaaand crash.
That afternoon, the last day of shooting, I was pumped out of my mind. I had an Instax (thanks Fujifilm) so I wanted to give my new friends some snapshots. That alone was an awesome feeling, of giving back something instead of always taking.
Again, I spent hours shooting the scene. And this time, at the end, struck gold – by well prepared luck: I found that I could go in their kitchen, and it was a photographer’s dream. Absolutely no light save the cooking gaz and small LEDs they keep on their wrists. Jackpot.

As I was walking back towards the main road to get a taxi, I stopped because I was feeling weird. Then I realized: I was high. High on adrenalin, high on serotonin. Just plain happy.

The irony is that, for all this work, the shots I like best in the essay (the first and the last one) where almost pur luck. I took the first one thinking it was a snapshot of a guy dozing off, until I realized at home that his arm and the boat were just so. I staged a picture with an Instax in it, which I took many times until I got it absolutely right. In reality, it’s really bad. The one that works I took as I was passing by a net, for fun. But this would not have happened had I not failed spectacularly for three days, and worked the people and the location like a maniac.

Should you do it?

Breaking people to pieces to rebuild them is a classic technique. I guess I was ready to be broken. I’m sure some people aren’t. Or don’t like it. Or don’t want it.
It’s also a dangerous process, and David gets absolute credit for keeping our twelve individual stories and evolutions in his mind. I don’t think he pushed any of us too hard (but again, I can’t speak for the others.)

This is where you have to make your own mind. Are you ready to be run gratuitously through brutally honest critique every day (to be clear: never ever mean spirited – just no holds bared)? Are you ready to subject yourself to a “freeform” exercise where David will guide you, but not impose technique or subject in any way? Are you ready to be left to your own devices, find your own way, at the risk of getting absolutely nothing on the fifth day? If the answer is yes, then you’re in for the experience of a lifetime. If no, then try to work up the courage to do it one day. You owe it to your photography.

” I want to, but I’m not good enough.”

Pretty much everyone I met at GPP wanted to know how it was, and then immediately told me “oh, I couldn’t do it, I’m not a good enough photographer”.
To which my reply would be to laugh: I can’t light my way out of a paper bag, and I have a hard time remembering that f/2 is wide open.

Now, I’m not angelic.
There are good and bad photographers. There are people who will never get out of auto mode. But there are also people who will nail a shot with razor sharp focus every time, with the key light in the butterfly position and a 5/4 CTO gel (did I tell you I know nothing about light?) yet they will say absolutely NOTHING with their pictures. (Another Harveyism for you: “Yeah, it’s a picture, but it’s not a photograph”)

You can’t think of this class in terms of “technique”. I suspect if that’s the way you approach it, you’ll be sorely disappointed. But if you think you have a story to tell, I think you owe it to yourself to think it through long and hard. It just might be worth it.

GPP Kool-aid

The Mamiya C630 is a perfectly acceptable point and shoot. The Mamiya C630 is a perfectly acceptable point and shoot.

So my last tweet got retweeted by @zarias, and he even took the time to tweet a thank you note.
To (mis)quote @bruko, I’m as giddy as a kindergartner at a birthday party, because it’s awesome and it’s never happened to me., and because I’m getting to spend the next week rubbing shoulders with him and a dream team of photographers.

Last year, a fellow student took me aside during a class, and said to me: “we’ve spent all this money, and all we do is follow this guy around. He’s not teaching us anything.” I felt sad for him, but it kept nagging me. Had I and others really drunk some GPP Kool-aid, and been blinded to something more sinister?

Then I realized what the answer should be. My first year at GPP, I went home to Abu Dhabi every night. It was good (Zack, and David N. were my first instructors). But the second time, when I stayed at the hotel every night, and made some friends, it went from good to great. Because what we get that week is more than just “classes”. It’s access to the creative minds of people who are at the top of their game. We’re not getting an MFA at GPP University. We’re spending a week around these people while acting like sponges. Can you imagine what breakfast is with McNally, Heisler, Burnett and Harvey? Yeah, that. Then when you think it can’t get anymore awesomer, Keatley walks up and takes this in front of your eyes, in a dingy Holiday Inn corridor.

There’s a catch, of course. There’s effort on our part, as students. And I’m not talking about the effort of turning up to class and absorbing the material. I’m talking about the effort of being gracious to people who are so open with their time and knowledge, of not treating them like mere vendors [1].

So yes. You can look at it as a simple transaction, and bemoan the value you’re “not getting” from Dave Burnett not telling you which setting he’d use on your camera (maybe he can take the picture as well, right?). Or you can suck it up, spend some time talking to him, and get this awesome portrait from my pal Keith Rogers.

Your call.

  1. chances are, if you’re doing this, your photography doesn’t have much soul, so it doesn’t matter to you. It does to me.  ↩