“The photographer’s gear is an extension of his emotions and imagination,” claimed National Geographic’s James J. Stanfield in the early 1980s, when his own gear on a typical assignment amounted to no fewer than nine cameras, 14 lenses, two light meters, and 500 rolls of film in addition to strobes and floodlights. That kit was probably light compared to the 1,000 pounds of equipment that Stanfield’s colleague Robert F. Sisson once lugged into the jungles of Ecuador, where he sat for 19 days beside a single flower, hoping that a particular butterfly would land on it—which it never did.—— 引自第6页
There was no better film for scenic color, and by color Fisher meant red. Long before 1948, when color photographs first began outnumbering black-and-white ones in the magazine, no one flipping through its pages could have missed the red. It was everywhere: red shirts, red caps, red sweaters, red scarves, red hunting jackets. A little red was supposed to make all the other colors “pop,” and, bolstered by an editorial insistence on “humanized geography”—meaning people in every picture—red became an inseparable component of the cheery Kodachrome travelogues that were once such a popular Geographic staple.—— 引自第8页
好书天下
评论前必须登录！
注册