The trouble with captions
Photography has the unique ability to bottle a moment, to capture and preserve something otherwise transient. The presence and arrangement of the components of a photo are exact to life, meaning focus is drawn toward certain elements by the premeditated design of the artist (in their framing, colour, depth-of-field etc.). The fascinating thing about photography is that this focus, while it can be incredibly compelling, is merely a suggestion to the audience. The presence of non-focus components is still captured in photography. Small details can be hidden outside focus areas for only the most diligent observers to notice.
Do you write the sound of engines or the sound of grass in the wind? In the presence of both, which better serves your intention?
Writing, and more broadly text as a whole, has a completely different set of results in its interpretability. Certain concepts, such as framing, are similar in abstract: do you shoot the grassy hill with or without showing the highway beyond it? Or in text terms, do you write the sound of engines or the sound of grass in the wind? In the presence of both, which better serves your intention?
Framing is the art of intentional inclusion and omission. It’s a vital tool to both disciplines, but the results it produces in each are incomparable: a writer cannot hide a detail outside focus areas, they can merely hide the meaning of it. In order for it to exist it must be acknowledged in the writing, drawn into focus. Can you imagine having fun reading a text-only version of Where’s Wally?? Of course not, you’d just be reading through lists of characters until the narrator states, very unceremoniously, “there’s Wally.” The point of Where’s Wally? Is the fun in actually exploring the images, discovering all the little details for yourself. A textual adaptation doesn’t work because text and image, even within their commonalities, can’t really be compared in their requirements of the audience.
This is an important thing to keep in mind when collaborating with a photographer. It was something I was probably always aware of, but had never interrogated or felt the need to clarify to myself. When I was first asked to write captions for a photobook, I started with the most unhelpful, uninteresting approach possible. I was writing captions like a journalist; I did no more than describe the images as I saw them. There’s a dog lying on the floor. There’s someone drawing in a sketchbook. There’s a silver necklace. There’s Wally. I’m ruining all the fun.
That’s not to say that writing captions for a photography book doesn’t demand observation. It requires me to uncover the subtleties that might elude the casual viewer, to mark all the details. But it also requires me to make sense of the decisions of the photographer. The framing, the depth-of-field, the composition, all of these choices were intentional. My job wasn’t just to point them out, it was to understand them well enough to write something that would add to them. To bring something new to the table.
My task was to understand the story in the sequence of images, and add something to it that only words could add.
Another thing that began to strike me as the layout of the photobook was being developed was the way a sequence of images told a story. The sequenced-image storytelling medium is well established by graphic novels and comics and, in the form of cave paintings, even predates the written word itself. Many written languages, such as Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, were developed from the storytelling power of sequenced images. Indeed, we see it all around us today: pictographic instructions with our Ikea furniture, online comments sections full of tales told only in Emoji.
My task was to understand the story in the sequence of images, and add something to it that only words could add. Thankfully, being a writer for a photography book is not a solitary task. Communication with the photographer is vital, and regular interactions allowed me to understand the intentions behind each image and how they worked together to shape a complete narrative. Once I had a thorough understanding of the photographer’s vision of the story, my approach became clear. I knew I had to add something to it with words, but those words never had to be mine alone.
We decided to take an impressionistic approach to editing and rearranging her quotes, using juxtaposition and metaphor to draw emotion out of both text and image and produce something altogether intimate, idiosyncratic, and unique.
Who better to add insight to the meaning behind the photos and story than the subject of the photobook herself? The photographer and I compiled a list of questions for the subject, designed to elicit responses related to the experience of creating the photobook without referring to any specific images or moments that had been captured. We decided to take an impressionistic approach to editing and rearranging her quotes, using juxtaposition and metaphor to draw emotion out of both text and image and produce something altogether intimate, idiosyncratic, and unique.
Writing captions for a photography book is a captivating and nuanced craft intended to add depth, context, and emotion to the visual narrative. It requires a keen eye, a deep understanding of the photographer’s vision, and the ability to create meaningful connections with the audience. Through careful observation, creative storytelling, and concise expression, captions transform images into multidimensional experiences. As a writer I found this collaboration to be an exhilarating journey of discovery, immersing myself in the photographs and unveiling their story, one caption at a time.
