j88 



THE GUIDK TO NATURE 



ORDINARY "SNAP SHOTS," BUT REALLY WORTH WHILE, BECAUSE THEY TELL A GOOD 



STORY OF THE SNOW IN TANGLED THICKETS. 

 Photographed by Harry M. Wilson, Akron, Ohio. 



terly devoid. The camerist fires in 

 every direction ; he records beauty 

 everywhere ; he makes notes of every- 

 thing that comes before him, and then 

 wonders why the magazine editor, to 

 whom he sends the results does not 

 reward him with a liberal check. 



The first essentials of photography 

 are brains, common sense, and a gooa 

 aim. A 'nose for news" too is desir- 

 able, while the skill to reproduce only 

 important facts is not to be despised. 



A photograph must not only be well 

 taken and beautiful, but it must convey 

 a definite idea. Because ideas are lack- 

 ing, most of the everyday photography 

 is like a baby yet in its infancy ; it needs 

 to grow in mental capacity ; it must de- 

 velop until it can put some thought into 

 the field in which it will become active, 

 and it must grow until it knows how 

 best to use the ability which it may ac- 

 quire and which is really worth while. 



IN ITS OLD AGE. 



If I may judge from the portraits 

 without nose or ears and with one eye 

 faded out; the trees and the boats and 

 the teams that are lost in the fog of im- 

 proper focusing, I judge that photog- 

 raphy has grown so old as to be com- 

 pletely worn out. Portraits are publish- 



ed showing one ear, and perhaps part 

 of the forehead with a glint of light on 

 the tip of the nose, and are called high 

 art. I call it photography grown out 

 of usefulness in the old age of the im- 

 pressionistic school. Such work would 

 make a child look like an old woman, 

 a boy like an old man ; and worse than 

 that it at times leaves only the ghost 

 of a body that must have gone before. 

 In this impressionistic school things are 

 worn out, faded away like the memories 

 of a half-forgotten past ; they are fool- 

 ish ; they dribble ; they are in the second 

 childhood ; they are the old age of the 

 art. 



But you claim, "Has not old age a 

 right to exist?" Yes, the old age of dim 

 memories of the camera have a place 

 on the shelf of some photographic 

 museum, but never in the editorial 

 sanctum of any magazine other than 

 one devoted to the interests of old-age 

 cranks. 



* * * * 



What is needed in photography is 

 not the drooling baby nor the mind- 

 weakened dotard, but the stalwart man- 

 hood and womanhood in the active part 

 of photographic life when the man or 

 the woman can do something worth 



