I joined the publishing industry in 1984, when I established a non-fiction (history) publisher in northern England. Back then, all photography was on film: a light-sensitive emulsion on a clear cellulose ‘film’ base. Fortunately I had access to my father’s Canon A1 (35mm) with a host of lenses, and I loved exploring its possibilities.
Over time, new and better film cameras came along, until I paid around £4,000 (c.1998) for a Mamiya medium-format set-up (those beloved then of wedding photographers). Some of our best reviewed and most beautiful history books used images captured with that heavy old thing. It weighed a ton. I remember in 2004 when I literally ran amid rapidly failing light halfway up a hill to the top of Addingham Moor near Ilkley in Yorkshire to photograph some ancient stone carvings. Aching shoulder and legs; nice photograph. Happy days.
Going digital
Digital cameras were around at the beginning of this century, but their quality was initially very modest. A Fuji proved an unwise early purchase. A Canon 5D was a much better investment when it came along in 2005 or 2006. That was a true turning point, as for the very first time digital photographs using reasonably priced commercially available kit were unequivocally superior to their film equivalents.
Roll on 15 years and an iPhone 13 Pro Max is my next revolution, with astonishing results that produce the best quality with least amount of effort that I have ever experienced. I can foresee entire books being illustrated using such photographs.
The cute relief carving (late medieval) of a Derbyshire lead miner that you can see above is one such image, snapped using standard settings on my iPhone. The quality, detail, resolution and sharpness are remarkable here, because the church interior is always black dark, and I made no camera adjustments, just point and shoot. The best modern photographic kit is the best that people have ever had, even taking into account the early large-format landscape plate cameras that were so advanced in their day.
The importance of quality repro
When it comes to reproducing photographs in books, however, cameras are merely the starting point. Reprographics – or ’repro’ – is the art f making sure that the photographs will print properly, with correct colour balance, saturation, sharpness, and contrast. Good repro is vitally important. Back in the 1990s repro studios charged a fortune to produce colour-accurate film colour separations of film photographs. They would spend minor fortunes to ensure their monitors were colour calibrated, and invested in special, hugely expensive window glass to ensure that natural daylight was consistent within the studio.
A digital photograph in a book is only as good as the repro, while a really skilled photo ‘retoucher’ can do absolute wonders to prepare initially poor quality images for reproduction in a book. Publishers still regard it money well spent to use a typesetter who can retouch their images to a high standard.
Wallpaper, or visual metaphor?
I have heard some contend that photographs in books are mere ‘wallpaper’, a distraction from the text that should properly be regarded as the only thing of importance. I never subscribed to this view, for a well judged photograph accompanied with informative insightful captions can tell ‘a thousand words’, as it were.
Metaphor might seem an unusual word to use, yet it seems apposite. A metaphor is a linguistic scheme that evokes emotions, prompt mental images and most importantly associations between the actual words and what the reader takes from those words. Synapses fire, and both enjoyment and enlightenment result in the minds of readers. This associational relationship can be even more powerful with photographs, which is largely why publishers spend such inordinate time and resources when choosing a cover image.
For an image can convey a whole set of visual and mental imagery that can enhance, modify or qualify the meaning that each reader and observer takes from the whole. A beautifully written text with judicious photograph imagery can enhance each other’s appeal, and for publishers the appeal of the book as a whole.