Idol Magazine
The artist fears recklessness. Therefore, in place of the non-existent rules of intellectual creation, he sets those he invents himself, either based on his own code of principles or on what is imposed from outside. Thus, he gladly accepts any higher authority of choices made by others on his behalf, as this allows him to direct his searches not from chaos, but from a given initial basis, either to submit to them or to attempt to overturn them. The notes and rules of harmony for Mozart, the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel for Michelangelo, or the arbitrary duration of movie screenings for Fellini were, beyond their choices, the given starting point of their creation.
The first constraints always come from the possibilities of the materials. The others, from the idiosyncrasies of the function and presentation of the work. In the case of photography, there are also those related to the size of the negative or even the paper size. The industry supplies us with more or less arbitrary dimensions, possibly imposed either by technical requirements or by commercial needs.
The rectangular small format of 24x36 millimeters was for me an external authoritative choice, which I did not question, first because it was given anyway and secondly because the Western man has been accustomed to this perspective since the Renaissance. The square format possibly started from the needs of advertising and magazines, and this contributed to the reservation I felt about it, since neither the published photographs appealed to me, nor the purposes and methods of advertising convinced me.
It is no coincidence that the proponents of the square format present the practical argument in its favor, that it allows for either vertical or horizontal photography from the same negative. In this way, the creative desires of graphic designers and the demands arising from the layout of covers (mainly for adding the title) are satisfied. Another reason for my reservation, as this logic distances us from the absolute proposal of a frame, which I believe is the basis of every serious photographic work. And if it is once difficult to reframe a mediocre shot during printing, the intervention on a square frame of dubious composition is almost prohibitive.
In the arduous path of photographic creation, often a random incident, a coincidence, allows the photographer to discover a new ('arbitrary' always, but different) option, thus giving his photography a new direction, and himself a new interest. This encounter, moreover, can also be provoked by himself if he realizes, as always happens with everyone, that his photographic work leads to repetition, routine, ease, predictable results, and that his interest in the photographic process diminishes often inversely proportional to his expectation for a good photograph.
The square format was thus for me the result of a chance encounter. And at the same time, it sparked a renewal of interest. Because as new problems arise, so does the artist's curiosity and the need to solve them. Art, after all, expresses the creator's emotions, but to achieve this, it is necessary to cultivate his language. And this progresses through successive searches, which are related to apparently only technical choices, which eventually become part of the artistic content of an image.
Working with the square format, I discovered its peculiarities. Such a realization always constitutes a creative challenge, as one must respect these peculiarities and at the same time, gently and gradually, extend them.
No format has a privileged relationship with a specific subject matter. However, each specific format imposes a way of handling a subject matter. It is therefore more a difference in process than in content.
The almost absurd symmetry of the square frame helps in transcending the real, as viewing the world within equal sides deviates from the human perspective and approaches more the concept of either a mirror or a window, that is, towards the essence of photographic transformation. At the same time, however, it generates stifling demands for composition, as the strictness that this symmetry imposes cannot tolerate any imbalance, verbosity, or freedom.
The compositional solutions that the photographer of the square frame has to choose tend to go in exactly opposite directions. Either towards emphasizing this symmetry or towards its negation. In the first case, the hidden danger is a formalistic minimalism. Emphasizing the already sparse leads easily to the minimum. And the minimum is close to zero. In the second case, the risk is the apparent, even provocative, reversal. However, for the reversal to be effective, it must not be achieved with obvious, that is, impressive, and therefore apparent, means. Shouts are usually inarticulate.
The photographer tries to submit to the strictness of the square frame and at the same time to reveal a new balance, which will be due to his own composition. If the rectangular format sets limits, while also allowing the conceptual extension of the frame beyond its borders, the square tends to enclose everything it contains and resist its transcendence. The photographer composes the subject by creating, within the given square, his own square, generated by the placement and selection of his objects. The four sides of the format do nothing but enclose the already strict composition as a frame. The apparent reversal of square symmetry cannot be achieved through its disdain. The photographer must dare to overcome it by merely prompting the viewer to question whether they are facing a reversal or a submission.
Changing lenses leads to much less change in form and content than in the rectangular format. If it were not for the difference in depth of field, the viewer would hardly perceive the presence of a wide-angle. And this is because the four equal sides always refer to a "normal" view of the world, from which the distortions of a wide-angle are excluded and the simple underlines of a telephoto lens are meaningless. However, by changing the lens, the photographer can introduce a new dimension of doubt and questioning to the viewer, since the presence of the new lens will also be integrated into the strictness of the dimensions.
The special interest of the square frame is summarized in the magnification of the importance of the minimal. Everything plays a role and everything is considered. Only that the excess is suffocated and the minimal is magnified. Everything, therefore, must find its right amount. A little less and the little becomes much. A little more and the much becomes little. The balance of the frame requires and imposes it.
Finally, I discovered that the greatest change the square format brings is precisely the opposite of its much-publicized vertical or horizontal choice. If the photographer composes trying to maintain the possibility of subsequent vertical or horizontal printing, then it is rather (and in reality) certain that the result will neither be strict nor convincing. Conversely, if the photographer treats the square frame not as vertical or horizontal, but as it truly is, square, then he has a chance to discover what is necessary and valuable for square composition. Especially when he returns, definitively or occasionally, to the unequal sides of other negatives, he will have realized their weight and significance, while until then he considered them as the limits of a viewfinder, only its center interested him.
Ultimately, the square is nothing else but a different organization of space in time. One of the many directions of the photographic adventure.
Plato Rivellis