Collection: Part 3

Part 3 - Research

Model Making Materials



  • One of the most common material to use as a structural basis
  • Light and easy to cut 
  • Its thickness can be used as walls
  • Comes in 3,5,10mm thickness
  • If edge is uneven, can be sanded using sanding block
  • Not too be press down too firmly as it can create finger dents easily
  • PVA glue is used for joining 
  • Foam-to-card needs  to be temporarily tape with masking tape while setting the glue
  • UHU glue may be quicker but it dissolves the foam
  • Cheap foam board may warp badly over time



  • Mountboard is cheaper 
  • Softer to cut (depending on brand)
  • Not suitable for delicate structures, such as railings, as they are too thick in scale and will break apart if cut too thin
  • Light guiding cut and following through a few times, increasing the pressure gradually, to cut through
  • White PVA glue for gluing  



  • Suitable for delicate cutting
  • Can be used for strong construction, if the card is strong 
  • Can be bent into shape

Stencil Card


  • For making very fine-cut stencil shapes
  • This card has been impregnated with linseed oil which prevents it from fraying or breaking so easily
  • Easy to cut and ensures a sharp edge
  • Best for intricate work 



  • Clear plastic used for window glass
  • Cuts easily using scalpel
  • Cannot mark on the acetate with a pencil. A shape needs to be drawn on paper and used underneath as a template
  • Double sided tape is used for gluing (much cleaner than glue)
  • Superglue will 'fog' the acetate 



  • Flexible foam
  • Soft but can be cut quite cleanly
  • Cannot be sanded
  • Can be ideal for curving walls
  • Cannot be glued with PVA or UHU, must use rubber contact adhesive. 



  • Easier and quicker to make solid blocks
  • Finely-celled so it sands very well without crumbling
  • Can create curve, streamlined or organic forms
  • Can be cut using a knife or hot wire cutter
  • For gluing, superglue, UHU or contact adhesives are used (foam friendly glues)


When Adrian introduce diorama to me, we started comparing it with using Photoshop. I started doing more research on it and understanding what it means. A diorama is a model representing a scene with 3D figures, either in miniature or as a large scale. The past few years, I have been using Photoshop to combine images which wasn't an easy task because I have to re-arrange the scale, lightning etc and since I'm not an expert with the tool, the photo will look odd. However with dioramas, I can physically combine the two objects and it will look real but I will have to make everything by hand, which can be quite tough and risky because it won't look genuine, especially when I don't have much skill in model making.


Abigail Goldman


Crime is the main inspiration behind Abigail Goldman's work. She has been interested by the criminal act and the outcomes ever since her work as a crime reporter. The stories has been an influence to her work where she hides the knowledge of violence, reducing the brutality, to create a miniature and humorous scale. She presents the audience that her small-scaled works are all tiny mirror images of out reality with mini people under 1 inch high and their suburban environment.

"Reduced to a 3D picture in a book, we find these scenes entertaining rather than worrying, which emphasizes another communication level of Goldman’s artwork. We are not only to be reminded that the murderers are among us, but we should also see our detachment from these miniature diorama moments as a reflection of the actual disengagement we have in our relationship with reality." 

At first glance, her work may seem "cute" but the miniature dioramas create an uncomfortable emotion the moment the audience realises what they represent. The calm criminal act makes us feel overwhelm and leaves us wondering with paranoia.

Gregory Crewdson


The suburbs creates a perfect environment for Crewdson's uncanny narratives. He constructs elaborate small-scale dioramas of generic neighbourhood backyards but the flora and fauna performs strange rituals like birds building a circle out of eggs or butterflies coming together to form a pyramid. He would often prefabricate settings such as the interior of a room to create an atmosphere that looks familiar but yet, gives a strange feeling. 

Bradford Morrow : I’d like to address the narrativity of your photographs. If one thinks of them as image-stories, they are intriguingly transgressive insofar as you only deliver the final scene, and therefore compel the viewer to create the story that precedes it. What is your relationship to the notion of narrative or story?

Gregory Crewdson : I’m interested in the question of narrative, how photography is distinct from, but connected to, other narrative forms like writing and film. This idea of creating a moment that’s frozen and mute, that perhaps ultimately asks more questions than it answers, proposes an open-ended and ambiguous narrative that allows the viewer to, in a sense, complete it. Ultimately, I’m interested in this ambiguous moment that draws the viewer in through photographic beauty, through repulsion, through some kind of tension.

BM You mention drawing a viewer in through repulsion. I do find that your work is, at all times, steeped in paradox. It is constantly inviting and combative, violent yet serene, beautiful and ugly. I’m curious about your involvement with that moment which becomes the image, because I know you construct the scenarios that you photograph. In the process of constructing them, surely you’re involved in the storyline itself. For instance, the photograph of the fox in the forest with the grape arbor. These delectable, nutritious grapes are hanging down even as the poor fox lies on its back, dead as a doornail. The background is a visual hint or ghost of urban serenity. When you’re constructing images, when do you have your initial sense of what the image will be, how does that process work? Is there a prefigurative story that develops in your mind? Do you know how that fox arrived in this forest?

GC I’m a romantic. I think. I’m a very intuitive artist in terms of the final image. I spend upwards of a month creating every image. We were speaking of paradox; I’m drawn to photography by some irrational desire to create an image of a perfect world. I strive to create that perfection through obsessive detailing, through a weird kind of realist vision. When the mystery of the photograph emerges, my irrational need to create a perfect world meets up with some kind of failure to do so. This collision between failure and compulsion to make something perfect creates an anxiety that interests me.

BM Have you ever intuited where that desire to create something perfect derives from, in you, personally?

GC I think it has something to do with repression. (laughter)

BM Ah-ha!

GC My father is a psychoanalyst and in the early years had his office in the basement of our brownstone house in Brooklyn. I would put my ear to the floorboards above his office and listen to his sessions, trying to imagine what was going on, creating a mental image of what was happening downstairs.

BM A visual image.

GC Yes. Not quite knowing what he was doing but knowing that it was a secret.

BM That’s fascinating, because a viewer of your photographs senses that he or she is invited to he a voyeur. Your viewer stumbles upon an impossibly symbolic or Aesopian or pre-Adamite scenario that’s . . .

GC Aesopian?

BM Aesopian as in out of an Aesop’s fable. Because your work is fabulous, it’s fabular. One particular image that you created, I find almost fundamental. After I saw it, it became part of my own visual landscape: the one of the birds who seem to have created a circle of spotted eggs, like a little Stonehenge of the Birds. But then in the background lurks this suburban set-up: houses, a couple of trees, and a ladder going up into one tree for no particular reason, then some mountains behind. Tell me, do you identify with the birds or something as the maker both of the scene and as the maker of the photograph? Are you envisioning a fable here? Is there a “moral to the story?”

GC That’s interesting. I don’t know if there’s a moral to the story, but I intentionally created a sense of ritual that is left as a question. This ring of eggs occurs as some kind of formation, perhaps a paranormal event and, certainly, there is the possible emergent meaning. To go back to an earlier question that you asked about paradox, in all of my photographs I’m very much interested in creating tension; between domesticity and nature, the normal and the paranormal, or artifice and reality, or what’s familiar and what’s mysterious. We could call that an interest in the uncanny: the terrifying and the familiar. I intentionally ground all these mysterious or unknowable events within a recognizable and iconic situation, which is the domestic American landscape. Ultimately, I would describe myself as an American realist landscape photographer. (laughter) Despite the artifice in the pictures, I’m not interested in revealing the artifice as much as creating a believable or credible world.

Gregory Crewdson, Untitled, 1995, 30 × 40 inches, C print. 

BM I find these worlds disconcertingly credible. I’ve been there, I’ve seen those birds. I didn’t see them make that circle but what’s so powerful about the image is that I believe I’m stumbling upon something I’ve stumbled on before—and not in a dream. This is not surreal work. It has super-real qualities. You’re not just the photographer, actually, you are a sculptor and a storyteller. Your photographs really go so far beyond seizing an image out of the world. In fact, you’re not doing that at all, you’re beginning with a narrative, you’re listening in on a conversation downstairs. In a way, the photographic element is almost tertiary. How do you relate to the ladder or the bird or the house or the water tower or the mountains? What do you invest personally as you’re constructing the scene that becomes the photograph?

GC Everything. I’ve been asked many times, what’s your relationship to nature or the suburbs? I’m not that interested in either as subjects as much as I’m interested in using the iconography of nature and the American landscape as surrogates or metaphors for psychological anxiety, fear, or desire. Everything in the photographs: the birds, the iconography, the images, and probably most directly, the actual casts of my body parts, deal with my own psychology. They are used as tropes to investigate my interior life. I want to take familiar tropes like the suburban home or aspects of the landscape and project onto them some kind of personal meaning.

BM I love the reductive or democratic aspect of the work, which makes equal the suburban home with the eviscerated animal, the blistered calf with fluttering, impossibly iridescent butterflies. There’s an equalizing that you do which is combative, therefore very American. The work is ambitious and ambiguous. I think the viewer must try to set aside any notion of beauty or ugliness. In fact, I’d love to know if you have a definition for the word ugly or if you have a sense of the word beauty. I’m really interested in this democratization, because you define yourself as an American artist. Although American is so undefinable in and of itself. How do you view your responsibility to the viewer and how do you view the viewer’s responsibility toward the image? Or is responsibility even the right word?

GC I’m not sure what my responsibility is to the viewer. Originally, one of the reasons I was drawn to photography, as opposed to painting or sculpture or installation, is that of all the arts, it is the most democratic insofar as it’s instantly readable and accessible to our culture. Photography is how we move information back and forth. But I also want the work to have a visceral impact that draws the viewer in through photographic beauty, lushness, vibrant color. Perhaps they’re democratic. I think ultimately they’re quite optimistic. I never see them as being ugly or repulsive.


Gregory Crewdson, Untitled, from hover series, 1996, 20 × 24 inches, silver gelatin print.


AR: Is projection something that you’re trying to elicit?

GC: What the viewer brings to it is almost more important than what I bring to it.

I’m very moved by the fact that people are drawn into the pictures and that they do bring their own history and their own interpretation to the photograph. I think that’s why they work in a certain way.

AR: In one of your most famous photographs, the woman sits in a motel with her baby lying beside her. Watching the documentary, we learn that the bathroom is a reconstruction of the bathroom in Psycho. Do you want viewers to recognize these symbols and be subconsciously affected?

GC: Right. Well, in that particular case, for me that was the starting point. I started thinking of motel rooms, and I thought of that motel room in Psycho. But that was just a starting point, and through the process of making the picture, the picture changed.

I think subconsciously we all have a connection to that imagery and a certain kind of dread.

AR: Do photographs naturally inspire or have more potential to inspire dread? It’s so interesting that you used that word because I’ve felt that in front of photographs before and I’ve just never put my finger on it. Is there just something about a still image?

GC: That’s an interesting proposition. I do think that dread is about a certain kind of expectation. And the fact that a picture can never resolve itself the way a movie can—maybe that’s a specific kind of dread that becomes associated with a picture.

AR: In one scene of the documentary, you’re just driving around scouting for a location, and you say something like, “How strange, what is that?” And soon this becomes your location.

That strangeness, that moment of curiosity—would you describe that as the point of departure for your photos?

GC: That’s a good question. When we were shooting the documentary, I was never conscious of filming except for when I was location scouting. In a way, that is the most important part of the entire process—and the most private. I’m so used to doing that alone. Unlike every other part, it’s just me, alone, on location.

It’s very hard to describe what I’m looking for—something that feels both familiar and strange at the same time. It’s not enough for it just to be strange or mysterious, it also has to feel very ordinary, very familiar, and very nondescript.

AR: So when you see it, it just feels right to you? Like it’s been in you the whole time? Or are you just punched in the gut and all of a sudden feel like, “Oh my god, that’s what I have to do”?

GC: No, it’s a slow process. Usually I’ll drive to certain locations over and over again, over a course of months really. And then it might just be I hit it at the right time, and the right light. And then I might go to that location over and over again, and then what happens in that lag time where—the image sort of locks in—all of a sudden I see it in my mind’s eye. All of a sudden I see—I could see the narrative. I could see the image.

AR: So you’re sort of dating these sites. You keep going back to them. It’s almost like you’re waiting for some confirmation that this place is “The One.”

GC: Yes, totally. It’s also like dating because it’s hard to commit. There’s always—“Is this going to work? Is this going to be right?” Making that final commitment is really hard. Because once you decide to move forward, it becomes a whole process which is really hard to stop.

AR: So, what about that very striking photo of the woman floating in her half submerged living room, which you said was in your head for years? That’s very different. That’s almost like instead of dating, that’s your dream girl. You’re just waiting for the right moment.

GC: Yes, that’s a picture done on a soundstage from an earlier series; that’s from “Twilight.” In “Twilight,” the narratives are more literal, and the event is much more spectacular. The pictures in “Beneath the Roses” are much more psychological and grounded in reality.

AR: Towards the end of the documentary you talk about the inevitable disappointment of this imperfect translation of the image in your mind into what it becomes. Are you always disappointed?

GC: Yes. I think that’s the nature of representation. No matter what it will disappoint, it will fail in some way.

But that’s also part of the magic of art. If every picture met my expectation in exactly the right way, there’d be no mystery; there’d be no gap between what’s in my head and the picture I make. So it’s necessary. But it sure disappoints you. It’s also what propels you to make the next one.

AR: So you’re compelled by your disappointment? 

GC: Yes. You always feel like you’ll make it the next time.

AR: Wow. OK. That’s very intense.

GC: Yes. But isn’t that the case for any writer, or musician, or filmmaker, or whoever it is? You have this ambition to make something perfect, exactly right. Of course, necessarily, it fails in some way and you have to accept that for what it is, and then you’re on to the next thing.

Part of the process is letting that picture go.

AR: Well you have such a deep involvement with the photo, not only arranging and waiting for the right moment but then also these editing processes where you can say: “I don’t like that baby. We need another baby.”

So, there must be this moment where you just throw up your hands and say, “I can’t—this is the closest I can get.”

GC: Yes. You accept it for what it is, and it becomes something other than what you thought it would be. There’s a certain kind of poetry to that. There’s a certain kind of grace to that. And that’s, as I said, part of the mystery of art.

AR: To shift gears for a moment, even though your photos can convey such an intense moment of isolation, they can be deeply interpersonal. A lot of them tell stories of the kind of isolation that you can feel even in company, because we can only ever know what’s happening in our own head. I think your images sort of dramatize this moment. Not only because they sometimes feature two people having a very different experience in one space, but also because this moment is echoed when the viewer looks at the people in the image and can’t access their thoughts. It’s like a double blockage.

Do you think that disconnect is sometimes why your photos are called dark?

GC: Well, if my pictures are about anything at all, I think it’s about trying to make a connection in the world. I see them as more optimistic in a certain way. Even though it’s very clear there’s a level of sadness and disconnection, I think that they’re really about trying to make a connection and almost the impossibility of doing so. And I think maybe the figures—that’s a good word—the figures in my pictures are stand-ins for my own need to make a connection.

AR: Is there some parallel between the struggle and the ultimate failure of trying to get the right photo and trying to make a connection between people? Is there a parallel between those two struggles?

GC: Yes, one hundred percent. I think you’re absolutely right. There’s a parallel between me going through these enormous efforts to try to make a moment that means something—and in a way, the figures are doing the same thing. There is that parallel, for sure.

The whole reason I make these pictures is for those moments of clarity. For that single moment, everything seems to make sense in my world. And I think we all look for that in our lives, because our lives are generally filled with chaos and confusion and disorder and complication. And we all strive to find moments of clarity, of order.

AR: Last question (and this is sort of my favorite one for some reason). I don’t know why, but I’m just sort of attached to this question.

Even though it can be so arduous and frustrating, the process of setting up these sets feels so reminiscent of childhood play. Dollhouses and wooden blocks and metal soldiers are all toys that give you that freedom and pleasure of playing and setting up. Does the process of staging ever recall childhood play for you? Do you remember having childhood moments of frustration or limitation in staging childhood play? Like say you’re trying to make this expansive battle scene with toy soldiers and suddenly you run into the couch.

GC: I think that’s really kind of a beautiful point, that at the core there is something very childhood-like about the whole activity of building and constructing a world. My mom just recently reminded me that I used to build these little miniature worlds outside at our country house and populate it with little figures. So yes, definitely.

That whole thing about trying to create a world – there’s something very connected to childhood and reverie and daydreaming and fantasy.

I was really fixated when I was a child. Again my mother was just talking to me about this, about how I would how try to get details exactly right. I guess I was always very persistent.

But I’m not that particularly talented in terms of making anything or—I’m not technically efficient. I certainly don’t know how to draw very well or paint, and I’m not good with computers. But I think the thing that I’m good at is willing something into life, no matter what. I do what it takes to get it done.



Roe Ethridge


  • He combines conceptual photography and commercial work, including photos from his own shoots or images that has already been used by adding new, sculpted simulations or reality. This resulting a change in the photos context or meanings.
  • His photography comes from his personal experience of the world where he focuses are multiple and uneasy while still capturing the vivid and detailed elements
  • For example, Old Fruit, at first glance, the photo may seem like it has been taken professionally but they are actually created with elements of nostalgia and unnaturalness which gives the audience a strange sense of mystery
  • The pictures are replicated and recombined to create new visual experiences where he challenges the viewer's perspective of the ordinary

David Lamelas


  • Film Script [Manipulating of Meaning], came from the idea of making a movie without any narrative. Lamelas was interested in newspapers and magazines and movies, where he selects specifics images to print next to a text. That's when he realises that all the information we are getting has already been manipulated because the process that was created by someone, had already have a specific idea about something. The idea of the film was to manipulate that information 
  • Lynda Morris, who was in the film, was filmed by a movie camera and at the same time, she was photographed by a still photographer. The result ended with 80-85 stills in which all of this was already decided, scripted and analysed before Lamelas did the piece.
  • The first projection represented the reality, which is a constant picture.
  • There were 3 more slide projections. Number one : represented everything that was in the movie, without changes, but with a transition from motion pictures to still photography. Number two : the main scene of the movie was taken out, that was missing from the story. Number three : main scene of the movie but switched so the editing was different
  • Using a fixed camera is more precise because you have limits, for a careful examination. It is also to avoid any interference when possible

Douglas Gordon


  • In the video A Divided Self I and II, looks like two arms belongs to two people are seen wrestling each other. On one monitor, the hairy arm defeats the shaven, while the reverse happens on the second monitor.
  • Gradually the viewer becomes aware that the arm belongs to the same person, in which the hairy arm appears to represent evil and the smooth arm, good. Suggesting a battle between two halves of the self
  • Gordon often singles out a specific body part and makes it a free agent


  • left is right and right is wrong and left is wrong and right is right, Gordon plays upon Otto Preminger's Whirpool by projecting two version of  side by side: one the right way around, the other in a mirrored version. He digitally separates the movie into even and odd frames and showed each set on one of the two screens, so that the film is split in half telling only half of the story. As a result, the images flicker like a stroboscopic rhythm suggesting the hypnotist's flashing light. The similar soundtrack is used. 
  • It makes it harder to watch but yet somehow, it's mesmerising
  • The mirror's axis (the space between the two large projected images) is an area of intense visual activity

"I was trying to get to the point where you can make sense of even the most chaotic images or pictures which formally and aesthetically are battling with each other. While one film is representing good, and one represents evil, the fact is that they can coexist quite easily - on a physical and conceptual level. I simply played the two films at the same time, together and on the same picture plane. They were not manipulated in any sense - there was no alteration to the speed, or the sound, or the form."


Thomas Demand

  • Thomas Demand is well known for his large-scale, full colour photographs of interior spaces on the importance of culture and politics. 


  • Many of his works comes from pictures that has been in media and are also recognisable to many people but some are based on his personal memories.
  • The photographs are all crafted by hand, using cutting and pasting method with paper and cardboard together, which he then destroys it after. He draws on one medium (sculpture) to create another (photography), playing one form of representation against the other.
  • His work on Jackson Pollock's barn studio, he tried to capture the essence of the location while constructing the space. When the photo was taken, the edges of the window were blurry which he thought that the presence of the ghost has entered his photograph. So looking at his work, it looks like you're looking at a physical representation of a memory.
  • The repetition of stillness is another way of describing a movement from a ghost.


  • Sometimes, his work could also be a result of pure circumstances. For example, Sink.


  • He chose paper to work with because of its accessibility and it's an open material.
  • The colour he choses are not similar to the photograph that we usually see, but he uses colours that we are most familiar with. This is important for creating the deja vu effect.
  • His work involves process development that involves may different elements. "I have an idea. I try to develop it into a form. I make a sculpture, then it becomes a photograph". 
  • His photographs are closed as they don't immediately reveal all of their characteristics and intentions
  • The angle of the camera is already determined so the model only exist for the camera in one position.
  • Photographed in cold, unreal life and not showing obvious marks of the work.
  • The tonality of these works remains the same ; same saturation of motifs, same unnatural light in which the lift only shows the volume of the objects.
  • There is no sense of depth which makes the viewers react difficulty to the image
  • His individual elements are minimal
  • Demand's pictures are often described as a form of emptiness or abstraction
  • After creating Room (1994), he realised that it look to realistic that it looked like a photo from a crime scene.

Photo Manipulation

Photography has been seen as a medium of truth and has been universally accepted as one of the most important sort of communication. A photograph is a powerful tool that when it has been change to misrepresent the truth, it is a repulsive thing to do, causing anger and shame to some people. When a fake photo is discovered, the perpetrator is disrespected, accused of bad taste and publicly declare wrong in the print medium. Most people, including many professionals cannot differentiate between a fake and real photo. The photographs are captured digitally and scanned to a monitor. Etching, stripping, modifying, manipulating to create special effects and correcting the colour of photos can be done on a computer screen. Composing on computers saves time in processing as images can be sent electronically to various major newspaper. It is chemical free which also saves thousands of dollars during the activity. 

The Associated Press issued a warning; "The content of a photograph will NEVER be changed or manipulated in any way"

The Chicago Tribune called electronic manipulation "ethically, morally and journalistically horrible"

National Geographic magazine stated that retouching "is like limited nuclear warfare. There ain't none."

Columbia School of Journalism ; "To distort reality is a journalist sin"

National Press Photographers Association ; "What you see is no longer what you get. Photographs used to be the most accurate representation of reality, but you can't take that for granted anymore"

The Department of Defence has stated that "Imagery must be complete, timely, and above all, highly accurate, Anything that weakens or casts doubts on the credibility of this imagery within or outside the Department of Defence will not be tolerated." However, he leaves some loopholes. It specifies that "photographic techniques such as dodging, burning, colour balancing spotting, and contrast adjustments that are used to achieve the accurate recording and an event or object are not considered alterations" He also adds that "the use of cropping, editing, or enlargement to selectively isolate, link or display a portion of a photographic video image is not considered alteration. However, cropping, editing, or image enlargement which as the effect of misrepresenting the facts or circumstances of the event or object as original constitutes a prohibited alteration". Some news organisations feel that it is okay to "clean up" an image if it appears cluttered or messy by removing small elements, which is considered as "journalistically irrelevant, as long as it doesn't change the main integrity of the image. However, where does the line draw? 

An example would be a mugshot of O.J. Simpson that was darkened, which made him appear to have a dark stubble on his face. Some black journalists saw it as a racial insult and said that it made him look sinister or guilty, 'like some kind of animal'.


One of the biggest markets for tampering photographs is advertising, where artists and designers edits images to create appealing photos. In glamour and fashion magazines, the key is to show subjects as attractively and alluring as possible. Complexions such as scar, mole, pimples, freckles, crow's-feet, wrinkles, blemishes, pores and stray hairs are removed. The model has to be perfect as they embody beauty. They do this by whitening the teeth, correcting lip lines, grooming eyebrows and the white of the eye must be smooth, as well as  enhancing the colour of the eye. Other than the face, the body must also be perfect ; bust size may be enlarged and lifted and protruding navel rings erased. Nearly every magazine cover have been tampered with, even if that includes celebrities little imperfections that carries out their identity. The magazine cover is a marketing tool designed to sell the magazine.

download.php?file=2767193&view=250367&embedded=1&textbox=2767231 download.php?file=2767195&view=250367&embedded=1&textbox=2767231 



There are 4 kinds of fake photographs

  1. Removing details
  2. Inserting details
  3. Photomontage
  4. False Captioning

Removing Details

When a photo is captured, and it includes all the blemishes and unflattering facial features like wrinkles, many people refuse to accept them. 


Elizabeth Taylor in her ad for Fragrant Jewels perfume showing no scar or wrinkles (left) Actual skin of Elizabeth Taylor (right)

Inserting Details

A good technician can also add details that were not part of the original photo. As mentioned in the previous post, facial features can be enhanced such as additional colour brushed into the eyes, lips and cheeks to make the subject more attractive. A smaller waistline is considered attractive as well for women. In some cases, a change to an entire body can also be made. There's something fascinating in changing something that's well known to an entirely different piece. For example, Minolta changed Michelango's statue by moving his arms and legs to cover his genital.



What is the difference between photomontage and collage?

A photomontage is a montage constructed from photographic images. It brings all elements into a single composition. The idea is to make the areas where the photos are merged, as invisible as possible. This is done by shaping, scraping, painting over or digitising. A collage, however, involves cutting one or more photographs into pieces and reassembling them to form a new image. Usually, the edges are not concealed.


Photomontage (left), Collage (right)

False Captioning

Althought the photograph is not altered, the context of the photograph is falsely. A proper caption for a photo includes descriptive data like 'who? what? where? why?when and how?'. However, a falsely caption only mentions one or more of these elements. An example is a photo from the FBI in which a murder suspect is led to believe that one of his victims had been killed. The photo shows a man with a bullet wound to the back. The photo wasn't altered but instead, it was staged of an event that never happened, in other words, a falsely captioned photo.


 There are numerous reason why altering photos exist like fraud, greed, malice, humour, profit, deception, education, to influence the public's opinion, to rewrite history, to bring dissatisfaction, to waste the time of many people or to bring joy. 

Why do experts look for? Why was a photo made? What is most visually significant?

To find a fake photo, the expert looks at the shape, size, tone, texture, pattern, shadow, site, scale and association. Interpreting photos involves knowing how the photo was made, what lenses were used, the location of the camera in reference to the scene and what lighting was used. Of course, this is not an easy task. There could be an intense debate as to whether the photo is fake or real. Like the famous photograph of the Loch Ness monster that was taken in 1934. It was published in a London newspaper and was unproved until 1994.





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