Michael Koerbel

My high school photo pals argued about Canon v. Nikon – this was 1974. His Nikkormat ftn had a split image on the grounded glass and my Canon FTb had some kind of grain thingy that broke up the image (not sure what the heck it was called). Of course quarreling was nonsense and still is except to camera makers Canon and Nikon.

My photo gear budget is the largest line item every year; mention the cost of one camera to a friend in passing and they look at you like your some kind of idiot. The jury’s still out on that one.

Saying that gear doesn’t matter isn’t completely accurate since context is key. A photographer who’s hired to get the best shot for any set, scene or circumstance needs the right tools.  No revelation that.

But here’s the big deal: restrictions are good.  Working within a box is good.  Read The Houdini Solution by Ernie Schenck. Having something to push against creatively is necessary.

A bad creative challenge: “take your camera with you today and shoot something.”

A better creative Challenge: “exactly 2 miles into your commute home today, stop the car the first safe place you find. Get out, and within 15 minutes take the best shot you can find.”

The second has a tighter box than the first. While the first may have higher potential because of the unlimited canvas, the second is a stronger creative challenge with a greater learning potential, a better chance for a less casual approach, and – because of that – likely to produce a better result.

Check out “Apple of My Eye” a short film shot and edited on the iPhone 4 by Michael Koerbel and crew.  It’s followed by  “behind the scenes” footage.

What is accurate is that a great story, a great photograph, a great piece of art has nothing to do with gear – necessarily. Don’t believe it?  How then was Ansel Adams not crippled because he didn’t have the latest digital wonder camera?  Or … how can you shoot a good story on a ef’ing iPhone?

You want to see more or enter a creative challenge? Try the iOscars [I have not read the terms on copyright so you might want to do that first].

Shot and edited entirely on the iPhone 4 / iMovie App (in 48 hours).

Directed by Michael Koerbel
Produced by Eric Edmonds and Rebekah Koerbel
Written by Anna Elizabeth James and Michael Koerbel
Photographed by Michael Koerbel
Edited by Anna Elizabeth James
Production Design by Leigh Koerbel
Original Score Composed and Conducted by Corey Wallace

Starring Greta Charness and Timothy Guest

Special thanks to
Allied Model Trains, Culver City, CA
Birns & Sawyer, Burbank, CA
Michael Rogers
Greta’s Parents

This post was inspired by Luke Sullivan’s post, “Writing to the 2010 Customer” at HeyWhipple.com from July 20, 2010: .

“…as I grew up, black-and-white authority became nuanced with the greys of authenticity.” – L. Sullivan

I easily recall the exact moment my father’s authority became less relevant to me. It was during one phone call in college when he tried to exert influence from a distance without understanding my context. Rejected; his message disconnected from my reality and so things went grey.  Just as Luke mentioned at the end of his post, at that point, I moved from authority toward authenticity; ultimately,  it’s a transition from following to leading.

Our nation’s Daddy lost Authority during Watergate. Spin accelerated; propaganda rules, so we’ve learned  to certify by following agenda’s motivation (often money), gain information from trusted sources, and believe only what feels right or that which delivers gut punches.

In 2010, our world views are individualized by collecting nits we pick off our favorite blogs and media channels. We’re home schooled and attend college on the internet. Walter Cronkite no longer tells us the Way It Is.  We’re in constant conversation but mostly with like-minded folks in a hunt for validation.

Authority is officially decentralized and renamed authenticity.  We are a nation of non-followers; we are “The Man”.  To me, this was recently made plain when a blogger with an agenda, through artful video editing, deceived government leaders and dinosaur media into firing a department manager who didn’t deserve such discipline. Who’s the authority now?

That said, Please allow me to make a thought leap.

Creativity disrupts the status quo; “established authority” if you will.  Creativity is by nature disruptive; always asking questions and refusing to follow.  With our shift from authority to authenticity, wouldn’t it make sense that creativity has shifted too?  Is creativity disrupting as it once did?

Remember the promise of virtual collaboration?  From the late 90’s we thought for sure we’d be working from home in partnership with a nationally diverse  creative team.  “We don’t need no stinking offices.” We’re all connected. Proximity to vicinity no longer mattered. The concept didn’t explode the way we thought.

Most recently, crowdsourcing promises to give us access to the brilliance of others through portals at low cost. Cisco Systems tells us we can “field trip” to China from home base; the virtual experience without experiencing anything. We’re forming tribal networks through social connectivity; we have friends without friendship.

I’m excited but skeptical and looking for a balance.

Another of my highly admired opinion leaders, Edward Boches (Executive Creative Director at Mullen Advertising in Boston), was interviewed by the social media road show now known as Humongo Nation. In the interview Edward talks about social media and Mullen’s new space in downtown Boston.

Ya gotta follow Edward even if you aren’t from Boston like me.

Edward points out that the new challenge for companies is to unite media platforms into something meaningful that drives a consistent message. Rightly so, they’re preaching convergence in a divergent landscape.  There’s a desperate need to organize fragmented authenticity into a central authority; aka – a reliable brand.

Furthermore, in the video, listen for the most important consideration when designing Mullen’s new work environment: They desired to cause unavoidable creative collisions. Not virtual collaboration but rather, they created a space that is conducive to innovative crossover.  What sounds “old school” is new school.

Maybe we’re yearning for an old fashion sense of community; more likely we just know how creativity works. We’ve shattered authority with technology and skepticism, do we now need a replacement? The old way of broadcasting influence has transitioned into collecting authentic influence for distribution; an old fashioned opinion leader or a newfangled network hub.

I can’t help but think of Goerge Clooney’s character in Oh Brother, Where Art Though – Everet – “Vernon’s got prospects. He’s bona fide.”

Looks like our new leaders are going to be curators of the best ideas backed by authentic consumable content. Moreover, creative collaboration is becoming more crucial because collecting and distributing that content is much more complex. Fragmented authority needs to pool into tribes of authenticity.

Check this out.

Humongo Nation Boston – The tour hits bean town with stops at Kane’s Donuts, Mullen and New Balance. The visit with Mullen starts at time code 1:52.

Previously Titled: A Hunt for Empathic Exchanges through Curiosity and Imagination

There are elements of a great picture beyond composition, simplicity, light, color, texture and all that designy-crafty stuff. With some tormented thought, I’ve narrowed it down to three elements that seamlessly overlap but are also separate enough that they seem to own a category.

[Warning] This is a less concrete way of thinking about quality imagery of the 2D variety; no “how to” list found here. I prefer to stay on the softer more inquisitive side because I believe if your art stimulates curiosity, excites imagination, and induce empathy, it matters little how it’s presented; success on these are paramount, nothing else really matters.

The elements I’m presenting belong to both the artist and the spectator; presented by the artist and collected by the viewer. The extent to which the art is successful belongs to the viewer with blame placed firmly on the artist.

Curiosity:

It’s the power of the unanswered question. Nothing happens in your art without first stimulating viewer curiosity. It’s what I’d initially call the “give-a-shit” portion of our viewing experience that promptly transforms into something else.

This is where surprise lives. We can be surprised by how similar yet different the artist depicted familiar territory, or perhaps how foreign the subject is altogether while remaining relevant.

Curiosity ought to linger unsatisfied to some degree lest the spectator loses interest and leaves unaffected. If there is no need to review the artwork it’s unmemorable, and who wants that? The intensity and shape of disclosure further feeds or disposes of the viewer’s curiosity.

Imagination:

By imagination I think most of us consider the “how” of it: a works staging, basic concept, or overall presentation. Most of us intend “be imaginative” when we say “be creative”.

What I suggest by imagination in this case is as though there were such a thing as an active noun. A two dimensional image is perpetually abstract so it requires some degree of fantasizing for the artist to portray, while involving an active imagination for the viewer to perceive.

Bring me there in my mind, make me fantasize; cause the imagination to jump the chasm that is linking artist and spectator. This is how we see a moment’s capture or still picture as an event. There is a tolerance of ambiguity by the artist and viewer but we surround the still visual with a mind experience that lasts more than the split second it takes to perceive the picture.

The still picture plays as a story in our head and it changes with every new experience. Imagination is what triggers empathy in the viewer.  We project a personal narration as part of a fantasy involvement with the image.

Empathy:

It’s where passion and compassion lives. Art is an empathic exchange. What we are “Seeing-In” [from Richard Wollheim on The Art of Painting] a picture are projected personal narratives. We see art similarly as we see a cut finger on a friend; it makes us feel beyond what is offered to our senses. Call it your pictographic syntax if you will.

As a picture maker I induce empathy; I’m projecting my passion and sensibilities in a search for empathy. I want my art to make you feel what is in you to feel, but I can’t do that without using empathic abilities.

“We see something in the picture, and then become aware of an affinity with some emotion, only then to reperceive the subject which is then couloured by the emotion.” – Malcolm Budd

If artistic imagination and curiosity is used adeptly then there is room for the spectator to maneuver their empathy in the openings we’ve allowed. The door to empathy is closed by being too literal and by answering all questions in the presentation. Think of it as enigmatic empathy; it’s a response intended or unintended, appropriate or inappropriate that the art work pulls from its spectator.

I think a void of artistic empathy is the artwork epitome summarized in this definition of Artistic Narcissism found in Wikipedia:

Artistic Narcissism is the personality trait of egotistic artist denoting vanity, conceit, or simple selfishness. Applied to a social group, it is sometimes used to denote elitism or an indifference to the plight of others.

The name “narcissism” is derived from Greek mythology. Narcissus was a handsome Greek youth who had never seen his reflection, but because of a prediction by an Oracle, looked in a pool of water and saw his reflection for the first time.

Even an artistic narcissist will find viewer empathy but without seeing a reflection in the art produced, it’s impossible the artistic narcissist to connect with their viewer.  Ultimately, isn’t that what we want as creators?

My art is my attempt to elicit empathy from you while simultaneously attempting to empathize with you.  When I make the right empathic trade I create a tribe  through my works of art – a.k.a. admirers – my tribe are those with whom I successfully induce empathy through my curiosity and imagination that I present as artwork.

Permission to Suck Manifesto Rules applied:

6.    Your creativity is about your heart, not their surface. Creativity is your world view filtered through your talent. It’s your passion, experience, expertise, inspiration and your rules that drive you to create wonderful things that you’re destined to hate because they’re not good enough, and others are open to admire because they couldn’t do it.

14.    Don’t let anyone talk you out of your passion. If you have passion for an idea, don’t lose it by asking others if they think it’s good.  They probably won’t.

16.    Imagination is hot, execution is cold. The flame is illusive; if you must obsess about something, make it a flame search. “I think part of the process of this whole thing is to get as close to the flame as you can get without being burned” – Graham Nash

17.   Imagination accelerates in the abstract and slows with tangibility.  Daydream,  maintain vulnerability, innocence and a sense of wonder so that your creativity stays vigorous.

I firmly believe, as this presentation video suggests, that empathy is the invisible hand. To truly understand art’s role in civilization, our society, and our relationships, we need to understand the profound degree to which empathy has shaped our culture.  RSA 21^st Century Enlightenment and Jeremy Rifkin, author and political adviser, helps us examine empathy in this animated video.

I had a chance to talk with Creative Director and Copywriter Mike Allen about his career in Advertising and get some of his thoughts on branding and creativity.  Here are 10 minutes from that discussion.

As this embedded spot for American Airlines demonstrates, Mike gives voice to a brand’s essence.  This spot and two others in the campaign ran shortly after the 9/11 tragedy.  Worried that the country didn’t need a reminder of plane flight or the of who’s company mark was stenciled to the side of the terrorist weapon, American Airlines was on the verge of canceling all Advertising for 6 months.

The alternative was to show the emotion of what plane flight means to those who chose to travel; don’t show planes, show what planes can do besides fly into buildings. It’s easy to see how the “We know why you fly” campaign was born from these early spots written by Mike.

Additional 30 sec. spots in the Campaign from American Airlines 2001:
“Friends”
“Family”

Summery of Mike Allen’s Advertising History:

His 24-year advertising career includes creating brand-building work for American Airlines, Bank of America, Nortel Networks, Subaru of America, the U.S. Air Force, Bell Helicopter, Terminix and Bennigan’s while at Temerlin McClain in Dallas, TX.

From 2003-2009, He was ACD, then VP/Managing Creative Director at Rockett, Burkhead & Winslow (RBW) in Raleigh, NC, overseeing work and writing for BB&T, Biscuitville, Wavecom, Queens University of Charlotte, CORT Furniture and Old Dominion Freight Line across all media channels.

What is the street artist’s intent? Anti-social pop art with an extreme satirical point intended for consumption across all socioeconomic barriers, or is it hype driven brandalism by an artistic terrorist bent on pulling one over on a naïve culture?  Tagging is clearly vandalism but the line of intent is vague and does mere intent define vandals as artists?

Exit Through the Gift Shop is an extremely thought provoking film by Banksy, one of the more notorious street artists in the UK. I was no more than tenuously aware of Banksy or street art beyond the mundanely obvious, but the fascination button has been pressed.

My fascination is not as much with the art as it is with its place in culture; it’s acceptance or failure, it’s hype driven value and its democratic canvas. I relate stronger to the street artist than I do with his work.

Street art can be beautiful but from my extremely limited surveillance, so far I see its beauty as mostly unconventionally embedded in the “of the people essence” found in the act. Yet street art crosses over and when it does the artist is there to embrace success in the most conventional way; think Shepard Fairey. Which brings us back to intent; was the original intent to gain lucrative artistic notoriety through cheap illegal stunts?

Shepard Fairey (who has a role in the film), for example, was ready to lie about the origin of his work to bolster personal profit. It drives the innocence of illegal art into the ground like a paper airplane; beautiful in its short flight.

In Banksy too, there is a contradiction to his art: a street rebel but also a gallery artist and book publisher making a strong living and building his brand legacy; he’s a (s)pray-on provocateur seen from multiple angles.

The film is filled with anti-heros but the main character is more like an anti-anti-anti hero; he bites back. I’ll pass on to you the favor from a friend who guided me last week by repeating one of the loudest lines in the film:  GO!

If there is one certain thing in the life of a professional creative it’s the need to push change; change in your work, change in approach, change in results, change in thinking, you name it. Some change is voluntary, some is not but both types command your complete attention.

There is a good deal of validity in tuning your creative radar for discomfort; if you’re not uncomfortable you’re not breaking new ground. The inverse, pushing discomfort to get creativity, could have merit as well. One thing for sure, routine won’t get you there. Anything not demanding your complete attention is not going to cultivate imagination in favor of innovation or new works of art.

My corporate days at Hallmark Cards defaulted with comfort. I was a middle manager with a job description inspired to (not specifically stated but strictly enforced) keep employees comfortable; asking them to achieve in the nicest possible way, and passing them on to other departments – if possible – when under performance could no longer be tolerated. In fact, I pushed change too much so they asked me to leave; I made everyone uncomfortable; routine was discouraged.

Yet there is a balance to be found. When creativity is needed most spending more energy is not often the answer.

“I’m not getting it, I need to innovate harder; I need more discomfort.”

Much more frequently one hears creative breakthroughs arriving during rest; those routine times post intensity. Push, rest, push, rest; that’s the ticket. But how do we measure rest?

How do we know we aren’t just being lazy? How do we know we aren’t behaving like comfort loving factory workers? I doubt there is a material answer, but the subtlety of creative exhaustion knows no bounds. Take a look at this experiment explained by Dan Heath at Fastcompany.com. It may begin to explain how we may better use our creative energy. At the very least it will encourage you to eat more cookies.

More about Switch can be found at the Heath Brother’s Blog.

Dan is a Senior Fellow at Duke University’s CASE center, which supports social entrepreneurs. He is the co-author of the New York Times bestseller book Made to Stick: Why Some Ideas Survive and Others Die. Made to Stick has been translated into 29 languages, the last of which was Slovakian, and it was retired from the BusinessWeek bestseller list after a 24-month run. Dan is also a columnist for Fast Company magazine, and he has taught and consulted on the topic of “making ideas stick” with organizations such as Microsoft, Nestle, USAID, the American Heart Association, and Macy’s.

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“But I, being poor, have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.” — W.B. Yeats

Recently I had a brief conversation about the merits of teaching world history in high school. Its unanimous momentum brought forward the importance of historic knowledge for all students. The main point: “History is like a story, when we learn history we learn how to tell a story.” We all love a good story.

In his latest TED presentation, Ken Robinson talks about our need to transform education rather than a more conventional and agreeable reform. Transforming means shifting from a linear manufacturing approach to an organic agricultural approach; create the environment under which students can flourish.

We all love a good story but all of us don’t love history. Learn to tell a good story and we’ll find our passion to tell. Through this we’ll cultivate passionate human assets and among them, passionate historians.

I think this is what Ken Robinson has in mind. Too many of us tolerate what we do rather enthusiastically do what we love. Our schools don’t teach us to discover and cultivate our passions. On the contrary, we learn linear histories through an assembly line of information. The result is a gigantic loss of human resources – a crisis if you will.

“The dogmas of the quiet past, are inadequate to the stormy present. The occasion is piled high with difficulty, and we must rise — with the occasion. As our case is new, so we must think anew, and act anew. We must disenthrall ourselves, and then we shall save our country. “- Abraham Lincoln

Visit the Permission To Suck post on Ken Robinson’s first TED talk from 2006:
“We Are Strip Mining our Children’s Minds”

[via KenRobinson.com]

Sir Ken Robinson, PhD is an internationally recognized leader in the development of creativity, innovation and human resources. He has worked with governments in Europe, Asia and the USA, with international agencies, Fortune 500 companies, and some of the world’s leading cultural organizations. In 1998, he led a national commission on creativity, education and the economy for the UK Government. ‘All Our Futures: Creativity, Culture and Education’ (The Robinson Report) was published to wide acclaim in 1999. He was the central figure in developing a strategy for creative and economic development as part of the Peace Process in Northern Ireland, working with the ministers for training, education enterprise and culture. He was one of four international advisors to the Singapore Government for its strategy to become the creative hub of South East Asia.

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I don’t know about you, but as an artist I’m never completely satisfied with my work. Yet, I take pride my collected body of work, while at the same time I wait for that masterpiece that never comes.

I started taking pictures because it made me feel more special than anything else I did at 15, but the “special” wore off. I hit Art College (a.k.a. photo college) and memories of average grades and bad critiques displaced “special” with an undefined obsession; an obsession I’ve tried sporadically to rid from my professional life only to have it zealously restored just as often.

From where does the underlying threat of a life under achieved come? The canvas is barely dry and it’s nearly worthless to the artist; boring let’s move on, we’ll appraise its memory later. Art’s cash value to it’s creator is about ½ ego, ½ a need for food. The real value of the art to the artist is what then, pride plus memories?

Great work is memorable; good work is not. Does that mean that to be satisfied with your work it has to be great? Merely good won’t do. Perhaps it’s the memory of how it affects others that’s important and not so much how memorable it is to the creator.

Is it the “doing” that drives your work, or a satisfaction with the result? Is it notoriety? Certainly it can’t be wealth. My thoughts tie it to a pursuit of well-being and a desire to cheat death; the thrill of being “in the zone” and producing memorable works. This may not be true for everyone.

Permission To Suck Manifesto Law #2:    The boss is the problem; the puzzle to solve, the idea to create, the crowd to excite, or your soul to satisfy.  Don’t piss off the boss.

In this thought provoking presentation, Daniel Kahneman explores the complexity and confusion between experience and memory. He draws a line separating happiness in our life from being happy with our life. The connection I made between his talk and artists is the ease with which artist’s trap themselves by distorting the importance of how their artwork affects well-being.

What defines our story are significant moments and endings; memorable works and what we’ve done lately. Artist’s think of the future in terms of anticipated great works. It’s a trap.

[via TED Speakers Bio]

Daniel Kahneman is an eminence grise for the Freakonomics crowd. In the mid-1970s, with his collaborator Amos Tversky, he was among the first academics to pick apart exactly why we make “wrong” decisions. In their 1979 paper on prospect theory, Kahneman and Tversky examined a simple problem of economic risk. And rather than stating the optimal, rational answer, as an economist of the time might have, they quantified how most real people, consistently, make a less-rational choice. Their work treated economics not as a perfect or self-correcting machine, but as a system prey to quirks of human perception. The field of behavioral economics was born.

Kahneman was awarded the Nobel Memorial prize in 2002 for his work with Tversky, who died before the award was bestowed. In a lovely passage in his Nobel biography, Kahneman looks back on his deep collaboration with Tversky and calls for a new form of academic cooperation, marked not by turf battles but by “adversarial collaboration,” a good-faith effort by unlike minds to conduct joint research, critiquing each other in the service of an ideal of truth to which both can contribute.

“Amos and I shared the wonder of together owning a goose that could lay golden eggs — a joint mind that was better than our separate minds.”

Daniel Kahneman

I saw a video of Graham Nash playing Buddy Holly’s guitar [embedded] and picked up on this quote:

“I think part of the process of this whole thing is to get as close to the flame as you can get without being burned” – Graham Nash

Buddy Holly died at 22 when Graham Nash was 17 – clearly it affected him deeply; you can feel the emotion of the moment as he holds Holly’s guitar and says, “Touching the Flame”.  The guitar isn’t the flame but is there any doubt about which fire Nash refers?

Every creative soul is capable of  a 5 minute monologue about their creative flame.  Odds-on it’s a semi-coherent ramble of disjointed thoughts spoken through a struggle to put feelings into words.  Go ahead, give it a shot: What is the flame and where do I find it? Is it passion, obsession or spirituality? Give me a definition please.

Independent of definition accuracy, I’m convinced that we can’t own the flame; no personal flame exists so it’s not ours to sell, only ours to find.  An artist’s most valuable time is spent seeking the flame and, if lucky, we’re allowed to feel occasional warmth.

Additionally, a great piece of creativity isn’t something that needs explanation. You react to it as a pyromaniac would to flame; drawn to it by curiosity, sensuality, warmth and fear.  Inexplicably, the feeling it gives you is like fitting an ocean through a straw.

All my adult life I’ve played the game of creativity for money: You pay me to add value to your idea of what a photograph should look like – I do my best. Together we’re capable of interesting surprises, but I’m fairly sure the “flame” isn’t warming us; we are simply using the memory of warmth to make a living. It’s as though the better we are at making money the less chance of getting burned, on the other hand, stay away from the flame long enough and you’ll go broke.

Execution is a commodity, yet the talented manage to add original value to an execution. Perhaps original value is the byproduct of near burns. Like internal scars on the imagination we execute personal originality that requires intense heat for renewal. No flame yields stagnation or – worse – a talent void.

Permission To Suck Manifesto Law #16 revisited:

Flame finding is your talent. Imagination is hot, execution is cold. The flame is illusive; if you must obsess about something, make it a flame search. “I think part of the process of this whole thing is to get as close to the flame as you can get without being burned” – Graham Nash

“There are no accidental masterpieces in painting, but there are accidental masterpieces in photography” – Chuck Close

Here we go – Déjà vu all over again – into the world of vernacular photography. Like colloquial speech is to literature, vernacular photography is any type that isn’t intended as art: keepsakes, advertising, forensic, documentation for records, passport photos, etc. It was made possible by George Eastman when he invented The Kodak Camera and roll film.

The modern disparity is found in history; more specifically – there is a history.  When you bought The Kodak in the late 1880’s there was no strong artistic tradition; no best practices for the flock of newcomers.  Someone first introduce smiling for the camera. “Say Cheese” was unfamiliar.

It’s 1890, photography is suddenly accessible. There is always more film to be had, it wasn’t messy, and it was fun. There is no need to be serious, this isn’t art.

The camera can produce art with little more participation from the photographer than a button push.  The medium is generous and extremely democratic. Yet the product result of a button push can be elevated to an art often by accident.

Henri Lartigue is a great example of amateurism (he made a living as a painter) producing occasional brilliance while the majority of his large quantity of work reached art status merely through our draw to nostalgia. His work represented the vernacular of his time until they became documents of longing. His playfulness with photography brought us a new type of art.

Photographic artwork is rife with nostalgia – it seems impossible to take a serious fine art photo of something new. Our homesickness for the past lifts everything old to an artistic prospect; signs along old Route 66, peeling paint, abandoned warehouses, old general stores – even old people become fine art when recorded by a camera more frequently than those of living less than 4 years.

Mom at Museum - Hipstamatic Photo

An iPhone App called the Hipstamatic Camera gives us democratized digital nostalgia – “digital photography never looked so analog”.  Its whole purpose is to replicate faded films exposed through second or third rate optics.  The result is instant art.  I posted snapshots on Facebook and got excited comments eager to discover my magic tool.  Old meets new; our nostalgia is now digitized. Is camera art done if a digital “look” never passes for future nostalgia?

Gradually the camera became more generous; more accidental master-pieces are posted to Flickr sites. The beauty of old processes before The Kodak invention are now the sandbox of vernacular photography; Déjà vu all over again.

Below is a segment from a BBC presentation on The Genius of Photography.  It’s thought provoking in that we get a glimpsed reminder of how similar the introduction of The Kodak is to the adoption of digital imaging by the vernacular picture taker.

If you want to continue the series The Genius of Photography by the BBC go here.