An encounter with Adeolu Osibodu’s photography is akin to your first time finding escapism. Starting out at 18, the Lagos-born, London-based photo artist has gone from documenting plants, clouds and nature to surrealist imagery. Crafted both on the scene and in post-production, his work speaks to the heart of our emotions. “It’s about being able to speak about or witness my surroundings without the use of words,” he says. “Starting out I was watching a lot of movies, recalling my dreams and listening to my urge to create.”

With a penchant for capturing people being at one with nature, his lens dances with the elements – earth, wind, fire and water – with partly obscured figures, who are sometimes in the periphery and sometimes at the centre. “The images don’t necessarily rely on the subjects themselves but more so the situation or scenario they’re in,” he tells us. “They represent my thoughts, ideas or scenes that are in this ‘otherworld’.” And having initially tested out his ideas through self-portraiture, his understanding of the craft is a special one both behind and in front of the camera. It is safe to say that Adeolu has both worldly and otherworldly inspiration at the core of his practice and, by your second encounter, you will find it impossible to avoid dreaming too.

David Wilson, a local photographer, provides us with a column about AI generated imagery.

Artificial intelligence is changing the way we create images. How I will ultimately feel about AI-generated imagery is up in the air, for I find my opinions continually changing the more I consider the new technology, work with it, and see how others use and feel about it. One could approach this subject from many angles, but I will be sharing some current thoughts from my perspective as a photographer and teacher of Digital Photography at College of the Redwoods. 

A little background first.

When my folks gave me my first camera as a high school graduation present, I had no idea of photography’s place in history. Photography was new to me, it was exciting, it was fun and wonderful, and it gave me a way to express my creativity that felt liberating and energizing. 

Taking classes at Humboldt State University, now Cal Poly Humboldt, gave me some historical context. I was shocked and disappointed to learn that as photography gained popularity in the early 1800’s, my beloved creative outlet received a frigid reception from the established art world. The art establishment had felt threatened by it: photography used strange and new processes, it made images unlike any others in the art world, and it seemed that nearly anyone could do it. Many traditional artists felt that there was neither skill nor art to it, nor ever could be. 

A scan of a tintype of a relative of mine from about 1860. It is a black and white image, but I manually colorized it in Photoshop myself (not AI).

It was a fearful reaction in, and in general an overreaction, but in some cases the threat was real. In one obvious example, business fell for painters of portraits as business boomed for the new wave of photographers who could make less expensive photographic portraits for their clients. But if portrait painters suffered, think of the priceless boon this was for people who had never before been able to afford to own painted portraits of themselves and their loved ones. Now with photography, people could finally afford to record their likenesses for themselves and their posterity. It is hard to imagine today, but there was a time when few people could afford to have any images of their family, and most would not have known what their ancestors looked like. Photography changed that forever. Indeed, thanks to photography, I have photographs of my own ancestors dating back to the mid-1800s.

Photography opened image-making to the masses, and from our hindsight 200 or so years later, we see the obvious benefits of photography. Beyond making art, photography has become an indispensable and unparalleled tool for documenting visual events, people and things in the physical world around us. 

Photography didn’t destroy the art world. Rather, it added its unique flavor and made its own place in the art world, for with skill and creativity a photographer can make works of art after all. Photography is taught in college art departments, including at College of the Redwoods, where I teach Art 35, Digital Photography. 

“What Lies Within,” photographed and composited in 2008. I planned this image and shot ten different photographs to make this digitally composited photomontage. In Photoshop, I manually combined them, using elements from all ten photographs that I took. Don’t mistake this for AI: no AI whatsoever was used in this image; every part of it is entirely mine.

Now come images generated by Artificial Intelligence (AI), and I find that I’m one of those feeling iffy about the new form of image-making. That’s some delicious irony, isn’t it?

The component parts of the photomontage “What Lies Within”. “What Lies Within” was Photographed and composited in 2008

Long before the new AI boom, I taught techniques for compositing photographs — the combing of multiple photographs into a new image — using Photoshop’s traditional tools. So that students would feel the greatest ownership of their images, I encouraged them to create their compositions using photographs that they took themselves, rather than scouring the internet for images to use. I also allowed students to incorporate internet images that were marked as free to use, but I shared with them that when I make a photomontage that I have composited entirely from my own photographs, it feels more rewarding, more fulfilling, than when I create an image using other people’s photographs. When all the elements in the final composition are my own photographs, as in “What Lies Within,” then every aspect of the final image is from my own hand, my own eye, my own imagination. I made it, and it feels like mine. But will people now mistake my composited images as merely created by AI?

Artificial Intelligence can generate images for us from a description that we provide. I have experimented (played) with making whole images from text prompts with Firefly, Adobe’s AI image generation software within Photoshop, and it is fun. It’s really fun — but currently only the beta version of Photoshop has this ability. I think using AI to generate images will be a tremendous source of entertainment for many people, and will provide a creative outlet for those who would not otherwise have experienced creating images.

But having been a photographer for a long time, and having used Photoshop to manually edit and combine photographs for almost 30 years, I can say that the processes of creating a good photograph — and for making a composite image in Photoshop using my own photographs — feel more real, visceral, and more fulfilling to me than making requests of an artificial intelligence and seeing what it gives me. And there is the rub for me: if I’m waiting to see what the AI gives me, then that image cannot possible be completely mine. 

As an artist, the way I feel about my images comes down to ownership for me. Did I make the image, or did the AI make it from the typed-in phrase I gave it? Making an image while using too much AI feels similar to the way I feel about making a photomontage while using photographs that other people took: it’s not 100% mine. When I lean too much on AI to generate parts of an image (or a whole image), I no longer feel like the sole creator, but a collaborator with something else, because some of it was chosen by an AI. What constitutes “too much” will be a matter of opinion for each of us, both as viewers and as artists. 

As a viewer of art, I have a feeling of creative connection when I know that an artwork was made by a human artist. We humans share a lot of experiences that resonate with each of us. When I know an image was made wholly by AI via text prompts, I feel that much less human connection with the artist. The artificial thing that generated it had no experiences in common with me, and it doesn’t reach me as deeply on an emotional level. How can I connect on a human level with an image made by an artificial intelligence?

In this animation, note how the AI does a good job staying true to the light source, providing believable shadows in most cases. It also matched the depth of field (focus) when I added the more distant elements. We are in the infancy of AI’s ability to create images from text prompts. It will improve dramatically from here. Thanks to my niece for letting me use this portrait I made of her!

Yet AI can absolutely be a tremendous tool for photographers and other visual artists. AI can be used as little or as much as one likes in image generation; its uses span a spectrum from simple tool to streamline a process to an “artist” that can make entire images. As a tool, AI can help in such things as restoring damaged photographs, removing power lines, pimples and unwanted people from your photos. AI can be used creatively to enhance and alter original human-made images when creating fine art: for instance, it can make very quick work of selecting a subject you want to modify, or removing a background, or filling in a gap, among a myriad of other uses. And beyond all of that, we can use AI to generate entire images for us from a text prompt, or description.

When we have Artificial Intelligence generate an image for us, AI becomes the artist, and we’re the client making a request. When a person or business needs some artwork, they often go to an artist. The person or business is a client with an idea or request, and the artist then brings that idea to life. What about when an artist asks AI to make an image, or part of an image, and the AI brings that idea to life? To the AI, this is a request from a client. The artist becomes a client/artist requesting artwork, and will accept or reject what is offered, while the AI is the artist presenting the client/artist with image options.

Animation showing the Carson Mansion, originally photographed at dusk, as I add elements to the image both manually, using traditional Photoshop techniques, and using text requests of the AI. The final image is interesting, but it doesn’t feel as much my own as if I had photographed every element in this montage.

I’ve seen wholly AI-generated images mistakenly called photographs. An image generated entirely by AI is not a photograph, though it may look real. A photograph by definition is the result of a process in which light [“photo”] falls onto a photosensitive surface such as film or a digital sensor, and is converted chemically or digitally to an image [“graph”]; thus, a photo+graph is a “light image,” an image made from light itself. An AI-generated image is its own form of digital image, not a photograph, though it can have a photographic look.

AI has recently caused confusion at photography exhibitions. In one photography competition, an AI-generated image won top honors. It turned out that the photographer entered what can be called a synthograph (an image generated synthetically, as by AI) to make this point: “I applied as a cheeky monkey, to find out if the [competitions] are prepared for AI images to enter. They are not.” ( Scientific American “How This AI Image Won a Major Photography Competition .” In another photography competition, an actual photograph was rejected because it was incorrectly assumed to have been made by AI ( The Times “Judges apologise after contest photo disqualified as AI fake.” ). How will judges know when an image is a photograph, or something generated by AI? How will you know?

My creative feelings sink to think that soon my own digital photomontages, and even some of my pure photographs, will be mistaken for and dismissed as AI-generated images that were made from text prompts. My photographs and photomontages and all the thought and feeling I put into them — my real, human, creativity as an artist photographer — and all of the skills built from years of practice, will now sometimes (often?) be mistaken for and dismissed as artificial art with a casual, “Oh, that’s AI-generated.” Now that is disheartening.

In the above animation, did I make a new piece of art when I expanded the space around my cat, told AI to add the pond, butterfly, and reflections? I didn’t create those elements; I only indicated where to put them, and the AI gave me something. I didn’t know what kind of butterfly it would give me, what the pond would look like or what it would decide to put in the areas to the left or right. The final result uses so much AI that it feels like a collage I made from a pile of nature magazines.

I know that the Art world will reshape itself to accommodate AI, as it did with Photography. We are in the early stages of this technology; its place in art is evolving even as the technology itself is evolving. Its ability to produce realistic images will dramatically increase, artists will figure out how they want to use it, it will work itself into the fabric of our society, and we’ll all carry on. 

In my Art 35 Digital Photography classes at College of the Redwoods, one of the many things we will explore will be how Artificial Intelligence fits into photography, both philosophically and as a practical tool.

To read previous entries of “Night Light of the North Coast,” click on David’s name above the article. To keep abreast of his most current photography or purchase a print, visit and contact him at his website mindscapefx.com or follow him on Instagram at @david_wilson_mfx . David teaches Art 35 Digital Photography at College of the Redwoods.

Known as “the father of Iraqi photography”, Latif al-Ani began his career in the 1950s while employed by the British-run Iraq Petroleum Company. Working for its in-house publication, al-Ani fixed his lens on a nation in transition; as his camera took in the new industrial infrastructures and a robust cosmopolitan culture, the 1958 Iraqi military coup occurred, the first of many regime changes that would for ever alter the look of the country.

Now in his late 80s, al-Ani returns to some of the locations from his photographs of a bygone Iraq for Sahim Omar Kalifa and Jurgen Buedts’s documentary. During his time at the ministry of culture and his post as the official photographer for various presidents – including Saddam Hussein – his body of work was journalistic, but it also carries significant aesthetic and archival value. After an endless series of wars and civil conflicts, large numbers of the architectural landmarks he captured are now in ruins. They live on only in al-Ani’s negatives, many of which were destroyed during the American invasion of Iraq in 2003.

While his career has inevitably been tied up with Iraq’s political turbulence, al-Ani proved unwilling to examine the social context of his photographs, a deceptively neutral position that could have been probed more by the film-makers. The decision to cast a voiceover actor to narrate, in English, from al-Ani’s perspective adds a possibly unnecessary flourish to an already fascinating life story. The use of a sentimental song in French to bookend the film also feels out of place, especially as al-Ani speaks at length about his refusal to leave for the west. While the film beautifully documents an Iraq that no longer exists, its examination of al-Ani’s legacy remains somewhat surface-level.

April and Prudy, Coon Creek, 2003

‘After seeing my first book (Appalachian Portraits) it was clear that the holler folks understood my vision, and since then they have always helped me to find more of the grounded and authentic culture that defines them, even as it disappears. So, by word of mouth, I’ve created a collective portrait of our holler people that many have never seen before’

T​he annual Comedy Pet Photography Awards have arrived with some delightful pictures guaranteed to brighten any animal lover’s day. We’re not surprised that of the 25 photos on the final shortlist, many of them take place in the great outdoors. From a poodle frolicking in the grass to a turtle munching on some dandelions, the contestants really captured pets in their element.

T​he competition was created by professional photographers Paul Joynson-Hicks and Tom Sullam to build awareness around animal welfare and celebrate the essential roles pets play in our lives. Sullam said he appreciated the wide range of animals that entered the competition this year, and encouraged everyone to vote for the People’s Choice Award winner.

The winner, which will be announced on Aug. 11, will get a cool £500 U.K. (about $652 U.S. dollars) and a fancy camera bag.

Senior producer Niki Budnick writes about breaking news, pets, home and garden, wellness and more for weather.com.

The Weather Company’s primary journalistic mission is to report on breaking weather news, the environment and the importance of science to our lives. This story does not necessarily represent the position of our parent company, IBM.

While some former NFL players struggle to find meaningful work after their playing days, former NFL cornerback Travis Daniels is juggling two businesses.On a hot July day in Lake Worth, Daniels looked good and felt good playing golf, after all, he was wearing his own clothing line.”JusBogey is my new baby,” said the Boynton Beach resident. The latest: Sports coverage from WPBF 25 NewsThe name was born when Daniels first started playing and admittedly wasn’t very good.”I kept saying to myself that if I could just bogey I would be so happy with that because it’s just plus-one. As I started learning about golf I realized only 10% of people will break 100, only 1% will break 72, so I have a huge community of plus ones to market it to,” the Hollywood, Florida native said.Daniels you could say is a Renaissance Man. In fact, Jus Bogey is his side hustle. His real job is as a professional photographer.Daniels’ first foray with the camera came while still a player in Kansas City, meeting with the Chiefs team photographer.”After practice, I would meet with him for like an hour and he would teach me about shutter speed and ISO and that turned into me taking pictures of my teammates,” Daniels said.Stay up-to-date: The latest headlines and weather from WPBF 25 Soon he built a business and now travels the country shooting events and weddings, many of his NFL brethren.”Signing the scholarship for LSU that was huge, winning the National Championship, now I can be part of those kinds of moments for someone else,” he said.The lessons he learned on the football field, many from his college and NFL coach Nick Saban, helped him in both his businesses.”Knowing how to lead, knowing how to listen and take constructive criticism–if you can just apply those in any industry you get into, you will eventually have success at it,” he said.

Explore the Art of the Cyanotype.  In this article, we examine the step-by-step process of cyanotype printing and its place within the realm of photography. You can decide for yourself if you agree whether this is a photographic medium or not.

When it comes to alternative photographic processes, cyanotype is a popular technique employed by photographers and photographic artists. The question of whether cyanotype printing is considered photography sparks ongoing debates within the photographic community. Its unique blend of photographic elements and chemical alchemy makes cyanotype an interesting method worth exploring.

Cyanotype printing involves the use of light-sensitive chemicals to create photographic images. This method was first developed by Sir John Herschel in 1842 as a method for reproducing architectural plans, which we still refer to today as blueprints. The process relies on the reaction between ammonium iron (III) citrate and potassium ferricyanide, which when exposed to ultraviolet light, results in a vibrant blue image on a light-coloured substrate such as paper.

One person who had no trouble describing the cyanotype process as photography was Anna Atkins, who was a member of the Botanical Society of London, pioneering in the field of photography for science. She used cyanotypes to publish “Photographs of British Algae: Cyanotype Impressions” between 1843 and 1853. The process used to create these prints would be better described as photograms, where an image is made by placing an object directly onto the surface of a light-sensitive material and then exposing it to light.

Let’s compare the cyanotype process to prints made from photographic film. Chemical baths and light-sensitive paper produce a positive image, where a film negative acts as a barrier between the light exposure and the paper surface. In the case of traditional film photography, when prints are created in the darkroom through a wet chemical process, no one challenges these as anything other than part of a true photographic process.

Cyanotype is also a wet chemical process. Objects placed on the chemically coated paper flag the light, acting as a barrier between ultraviolet rays and the paper surface. I’m sure you can see where I am going with this comparison. 

Here, I will walk you through my process of creating cyanotypes.  In order to make the cyanotype process even closer to the darkroom process, I will include my own images into the cyanotype medium by first printing them onto inkjet transparency film. This “negative” transparency technique allows for the preservation of the photographic essence while opening up a world of creative opportunities.

Materials

• Chemicals: potassium ferricyanide and ferric ammonium citrate, usually available to buy together as a cyanotype kit
• Paint brushes
• Vessel or jar
• Watercolour paper
• Clipframe
• A4 inkjet printable transparency film
• Paper or cardboard to protect the surface you work on

Method

Prepare the Chemical Mixture: blend equal parts of ammonium iron (III) citrate and potassium ferricyanide. A typical ratio is 10 grams of each chemical mixed with 100 milliliters of water. Readymade cyanotype kits are widely available to purchase: all you have to do is add water to each bottle and shake, and your chemicals are ready to use.

Printing the Transparencies: Select your photographs, convert to black and white, invert the colors, and then mirror the image before printing them onto transparency film. You can buy printable acetate, which is compatible with inkjet printers to do this.

Prepare your Surfaces and Turn Off the Lights: Protect your workspace from any chemical spillages by putting down old newspaper. Once both solutions are combined, you will need to work in subdued light to ensure that any present ultraviolet light does not diminish the mixed solution or the coated paper. I coated my paper in the evening with a lamp on in the far corner of the room.

Coating the Paper: Apply an even coat of the cyanotype mixture onto watercolor paper or another suitable material using a brush. I chose to use a sponge brush for an even coat. Let the coated paper dry thoroughly; you may use a hairdryer to speed up the process. Apply a second coat and let dry. Put your coated paper in dark storage, such as a light tight bag or envelope until ready to use.

Assembling the Printing Frame: Place your coated paper and transparency inside a clipframe. This ensures proper contact between the transparency and the coated paper during exposure and also keeps your paper safe from contaminants outside. Place a black cloth or card over your frame until you are ready to begin the exposure.

Expose Your Cyanotypes: The exposure time for cyanotypes can vary depending on several factors, including the strength of UV light, the density of your negative or object, and the desired result. However, as a general guideline, exposure time can be anywhere between 3 to 20 minutes depending on the weather and levels of UV exposure where you live. For better accuracy without wasting too much coated paper, consider exposing a test strip – covering a section of the strip at varying intervals. I created two test strips, the first was exposed at intervals of 3, 5, and 8 minutes, and the second was exposed at intervals of 10, 12, and 15 minutes. This allowed me to make a judgement on the best exposure, which I considered to be between 12 and 15 seconds for the light conditions. If you are using a UV lamp or other artificial source, exposure times may need to be longer. No UV bulb is as powerful as the sun.

Rinse and Fix the Print: After exposure, remove the transparency from the frame and immediately rinse the coated paper in running water until the runoff appears clear. At this stage, you will be able to see detail in your image and the color will be a reasonably deep hue. Hang the prints to dry, and over the course of a few hours, the hue will deepen to its final shade. To speed up the final hue reveal, submerge the print in a fixative bath made of one tablespoon of hydrogen peroxide dissolved in a liter of water for a few minutes. Rinse the print again in running water.

Drying and Displaying Your Cyanotype Print: My neighbors must really wonder about me, but I peg my cyanotypes onto the washing line to drip dry. Once they are dry, flatten if needed between the pages of a good coffee table book, and then, you can proudly display your cyanotype print.

There is something very appealing about having my work displayed as a cyanotype. I wouldn’t normally consider hanging these images, but the added process has made me appreciate these images a little more than I normally would, and I think one or two might make it onto my walls.

Have I convinced you that cyanotype is a legitimate photographic medium? We’ve explored the fascinating world of cyanotype printing together, and now, it’s your turn! Whether you’re a seasoned cyanotype enthusiast or just discovering this alternative photographic method for the first time, we would love to hear about your experiences, experiments, and creative outcomes. Share your tips and even your own cyanotype prints in the comments.

Photographer Brian Donovan feels like he is time-travelling whenever he walks through central Auckland.

Donovan, who has spent his whole life living in Auckland, has been capturing photos around the city since he was in high school in the 1960s.

After leaving school, he continued to capture snaps around the growing city, with his work now an invaluable resource for historians and publishers.

Donovan’s photography project, Now and Then, was inspired by images taken in the early 1900s by Henry Winkelmann.

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“I know what was there. I almost feel like I’m time-travelling walking through this old world that is now gone,” Donovan told TVNZ’s Seven Sharp.

Donovan said he would go to a location as many as four times to get the perspective right.