Japanese aesthetics, just like other South-Asian cultures, places a significance on the tranquility and near spiritual nature of a dimly-lit space. As a cinematographer, when I look at light, I find my eye being drawn to its texture, its quality, and above all, the details where the light melts into darkness and that is what I try to replicate in my work — the details, the nuances and the subtext. On hot and humid afternoons in Kolkata, when the city enjoyed its daily siesta, I’d stay awake watching the ceiling fan unsuccessfully cool a room, textures gently accentuated in the moving shadows.

As a starting point, I assume that darkness cannot exist without light. It is the modelling and control of light that create varying shades of black. In this creative practice-based research I explore how cinematography practice can intervene in dominant associations of light and darkness - must darkness signify fear and dread or can darkness also capture lighter emotions of love and joy? As a cinematographer, I am also assuming that meanings can be ascribed to colour e.g., green is jealousy, red is envy and by extension, darkness is black and all its associated shades. Therefore, I explore the control of light to create varying shades of black. Furthermore, I ask whether darkness can lend authenticity to scenes and add to story.

I aim to subvert and challenge the norm of what is currently accepted through the approach of historical poetics. My methodology is a synthesis of creative practice research informed by historical poetics approach and driven by positionality. I’m bringing together the ideas of historical poetics and reflexive positionality situated knowing to shape my approach to this exegesis. Historical poetics according to David Bordwell:

Drawing from Bordwell’s explanation of poetics, a historical poetics of cinematography would therefore look at the principles by which cinematography is constructed, how it achieves particular effects, and why these principles have arisen and changed in particular circumstances. Within this research I also ask if these principles of cinematography be subverted, challenged and uncovered from a different cultural perspective using the approach of historical poetics. Furthermore, as a creative practitioner with a diverse background, I am a “marginally situated knower” (Pohlhaus, 2012, p717) and am more likely to be able to create resources that are more suited to both marginalized and dominant audiences, due to a richness of experience in dealing with both (Pohlhaus, 2012, p721). I would analyse the results from dominant and niche cultural perspectives to present my findings. I contend that cinematography as it exists today can allow for other ways of making sense of it.

My research is conducted through the eponymous artefact, Poetics of Darkness (2024), conceptual readings and empirical tests such as luminosity readings. Poetics of Darkness was shot in studio using small, natural sources of light (candles). Two lighting setups were used, and tests are practical examples that provide information to show how darkness can convey emotions other than fear, and how natural light can be utilised in this endeavour. Poetics of Darkness serves as a case study in which practice-based knowledge is used. I explore the use of darkness in film, question prevailing artistic choices around the use of light and shadow in visual language and explore how we can break the rules surrounding prevalent choices in cinematography. This research examines the connections between lighting choices and an intended spectatorial response, regardless of whether that response is achieved.

This research is important to cinematographers and the film industry at large because these tests would not only help them recognise gaps in the industry and dominant narratives of our work and in the stories we tell, but will also enable them to author stories which speak to both niche and dominant audiences alike making filmmaking richer and more diverse.

Chapter One defines dominant cinematography, the Judeo-Christian ideology and the cultural connotations of light and darkness, the history of chiaroscuro and cinematography. Chapter Two looks at subversive visual language in Asia. Chapter Three is an analysis of my practice-based research and challenging the norm of lighting in cinematography.

Christianity and art have gone hand in hand for centuries with the symbolic representation of faith being prevalent throughout art history (Gustafsson 2012, p176). From early Christian art to the Renaissance and Baroque periods and even the European Romanesque, there was a strong attempt to educate the gaze and create an ocularcentric culture — one where the sense of visual aesthetic prevails over the other senses (Brook, 2002, p68). According to Alfons Puigarnau:

As a cinematographer, the choices we make are informed by individual experiences, backgrounds, cultures and mastery of technical skills. So, dominant techniques of cinematography that emerged with the advent of studio systems and the golden age of Hollywood cinema, where artificial lighting was being used to create each scene, were influenced by the reigning ideologies of the cinematographers of that time. 

In visual arts, the usage of light and darkness is a technique called chiaroscuro, from the Italian chiaro, “light”, and scuro, “dark”. Chiaroscuro has been used to describe many different uses of contrast between light and darkness, including creating three-dimensional forms using shadows and blacks. I would like to point out that while visual artists and photographers paint with light, cinematography requires me to light a single frame with space, time and motion included, or as I like to think of it - one photograph 25 times a second. 

Art in the Renaissance and Baroque periods largely depicted scenes from the Bible. Barolsky (2003, p8) writes about Michelangelo’s Sistine Chapel, “the division of light from darkness and the ensuing victory of light over darkness, is linked to the idea of the Creator’s divine art”. In talking about light and darkness and biblical art, we have to look at the work of Italian painter, Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio. Art historian, Gilles Lambert, called Caravaggio, the “master of chiaroscuro” (Gilles Lambert et al., 2007, p66) for his dramatic use of light in his paintings, allowing everything but that which the light touched to fall into shadow. Caravaggio did not invent the technique of chiaroscuro but he was a master of it, using the technique to create strong contrasts in light and darkness with his paintings containing deep details in the shadows. His work can be considered to be painted on a black canvas instead of a white one. This is possibly better explained when comparing Caravaggio’s work to another Baroque artist, Dutch painter, Johannes Vermeer.

Vermeer used a range of diverse colours in his work, and unlike Caravaggio, he used greens, browns and greys to create shadow as can be seen in the Figure 1, Young woman with a water pitcher (Vermeer, 1662). When I began conceptualising a test to confirm my hypothesis, I was faced with the question about the use of colour. Most of my mentors and peers assumed it would be a grayscale image where the study would be about the depth and darkness of the overall picture in black and white. However, shadows are not composed of only blacks. Like Vermeer noted in his work, shadows are hues of greens, blues and browns, all of which are equally important when depicting a scene authentically. This was an important realisation for me as a cinematographer because it is natural to assume shadows are black or varying degrees of black but if I wanted the alcoves of darkness in my work to maintain their character and authenticity, I had to take different colours and hues into consideration. A grayscale test would become more about visibility than a barometer for capturing an emotional effect of an image - the opposite of what I am trying to explore in this research. The aim is to challenge the norm of light and darkness and use darkness to depict emotions other than the dominant connotations we see today. I will discuss the practical test in more detail in Chapter three.    

In fact, it was upon seeing Caravaggio’s The Calling of St. Matthew (Caravaggio, 1599-1600) , that pioneering cinematographer Vittorio Storaro ASC, AIC, says his visual style was birthed. He writes about that moment, “That ray of light piercing the darkness surrounding the figures, a beam of profound knowledge, made a tremendous impact on me. Not only did I carry the image with me throughout…it has always remained indelibly imprinted on my mind,” (Vittorio Storaro et al., 2005, p8).                   

The usage of darkness and light and its biblical connotations were enhanced by cinematographers like Storaro whose “images are steeped in chiaroscuro, the radiant and color-rich cinematography offset by swaths of deep shadow” (Gentry, 2010, p3). Storaro himself talks about the attributes of light as being spiritual - “the essence of light has this spiritual quality whether we know it or not. Even if we don't understand, even if we don't believe, even if we refuse, even if we don't know, it has to be” (Gentry, 2010, p3). The Biblical associations of “light is the dominion of God, and “darkness is the unconscious, the inchoate, the unknown” (Gentry, 2010, p3) can therefore be traced clearly from chiaroscuro into cinematography. 

As Lara Thompson writes in Film Light: Meaning and Emotion (2017), “This dialectic between positive illumination and negative darkness, in a continuation of religious symbolism and art practice, has been reinforced throughout cinematic history” (p 14). For example, chiaroscuro and its cultural connections of light and darkness have been deepened with periods like Film Noir – a style of film whose cinematic origins “can be traced to the German Expressionist films of the late 1910s and twenties, to the American crime films of the thirties” (Hirsch, 2008, p53). According to Ewing (1988, p61), film noir or “black film”, “had a dark style of visual presentation that combined gothic chiaroscuro lighting effects with an ambiguous and dislocated sense of space”. Film noir through its motifs and “subtle qualities of tone and mood” (Schrader, 2012, p8) furthered the idea of light as good and darkness as evil. 

Decade after decade, through generations, usage of light and darkness has been a conscious choice informed by the backgrounds, influences and experiences of the cinematographer. Every frame on screen is a choice and the way a scene is lit is done with deliberation. What motivates these aesthetic choices is sometimes unknown even to the creator but as Schrader succinctly puts it, “Transcendental expression in religion and art attempts to bring man as close to the ineffable, invisible, and unknowable as words, images, and ideas can take him” (Schrader 2018, p. 39).

Growing up in India, Hong Kong and Singapore embedded in me an inherent aesthetic sense that draws from various Asian cultures. As a cinematographer, when I look at light, I find my eyes being drawn to its movement, textures, quality and the details where the light subtly melts into darkness. In Kolkata, where I spent a part of my formative years, courtyard homes or houses with rooms arranged around an inner courtyard, are a large part of its colonial history and culture. These houses are a perfect example of natural light falling into gentle shadows in the corridors around the yard. Many calm, serene afternoons have been spent in the shadows of those columns and I have no doubt they shaped my aesthetics as a creative practitioner. As Tanizaki says —

There is no doubt that classical Hollywood paved the way for a style of lighting which spread to the other parts of the world, but cinema in other countries are not just variants of the dominant classical Hollywood style. In Japan, “In’ei” refers to the state of shadow or state of dim lighting which is not complete darkness, dimness where the presence of light is felt. In’ei or the realism of lighting became the key that differentiated the Japanese shadowy aesthetics from classical Hollywood. The Japanese Society for Cinematographers selected The Battle of Kawanakajima (Teinosuke, 1941), for best cinematography of the year because of “the attraction of black that fills the entire film” (Daisuke Miyao, 2013, p10). Miyao goes on to discuss how “the aesthetics of shadow had already been widely shared among Japanese cinematographers by the early 1940s” (Daisuke Miyao, 2013, p10). In contrast, Hollywood cinematographer, Josef von Sternberg, particularly known for his films starring Marlene Dietrich, writes in his autobiography, “Each light furnishes its own shadow, and where a shadow is seen there must be a light. Shadow is mystery and light is clarity. Shadow conceals, light reveals” (Josef Von Sternberg, 1988, p311). The Japanese “aesthetics of shadow, which appreciated darkness in Japanese architecture and landscape in opposition to electricity and bright lighting in Western culture, emerged as filmmakers and critics started to discuss a shift to realism and the integration of a documentary style in cinematography” (Daisuke Miyao, 2013, p12). Miura Mitsuo, the cinematographer on The Battle of Kawankajima, avoided the standard three-point lighting of classical Hollywood prevalent at the time and chose to go with one-directional lighting to "document the light and shadow of Japanese summer and of Japanese architecture” instead of the realism of classical Hollywood style lighting — “visibility of characters soft gradation” (Daisuke Miyao, 2013, p202). The aesthetic of shadow became more than a simple stylistic choice, it was inherently a creation of a Japanese cinematic identity that heralded back to traditional Japanese aesthetics. 

It is important to note that this emphasis on shadow came about during the War when the Japanese Ministry of Education stipulated a “return to Japan” policy which required reviving Japanese cultural practices to unify the nation. There was also the added problem of film stock being scarce,  being regulated by the state for propaganda films. Nonetheless, “the emphasis on shadow which increased in films” in Japan were “highly conventionalised film styles of the time” (Daisuke Miyao, 2013, p206). That Japanese cinema was using techniques and technologies from Hollywood to create its own style is evident. They were stepping away from the Judeo-Christian ideology of chiaroscuro and using the technology available to them, returning to traditional Japanese aesthetics and by the 1940s Japanese cinematographers were chasing what they deemed to be ‘authentic cinematography’ (Daisuke Miyao, 2013, p206). 

Conversely, Indian films bring to mind “lavish, romantic musicals” and "the ‘masala’ film, a genre of musical film” which began in the 1970s and mixes everything from action and comedy to romance and melodrama (Tiwari, 2022, p88). While Japan sought to assert their traditional aesthetics in their films, Indian films captivated people. After World War II, India reeled from its freedom movement and the violence of the Partition of British India into India and Pakistan. Filmmakers tackled tough social issues or used the struggle for Indian independence as a backdrop for their films. However, the most defining aspect of Indian cinema is that the films — from epic musicals to social realist dramas and sudden disillusionment, transport “our souls through hardship and loss and revive our spirits with redemption,” (Tiwari, 2022, p88). This indomitable spirit is carried into treatments of shadows in films, lending them an essence that transcends fear, dread and evil. As a Bengali cinematographer who spent formative years in Kolkata with documentarians for parents, I was introduced to the work of Satyajit Ray at a very young age. Knowing he served as a camera operator in his own films after a certain point in time, fascinated me and inspired me to be the creative practitioner I am today. His cinematographer in his early films, Subrata Mitra, wanted to capture realism, realistically and did not have the technological means to do so and invented what we know as bounce lighting today. His use of natural light and reflectors to create universal stories are a hallmark of subversive visual language — a visual grammar that was not the dominant convention in classical Hollywood. Satyajit Ray, Mrinal Sen and Ritwik Ghatak are three Bengali parallel cinema filmmakers who put Indian cinema on the world map. Their films deal with real, social issues and explore deep nuances of humanity and resilience. Observers of life and social critics, they found the humanity in the mundane, the radical and the dispossessed. They pushed the bounds of cinema visually, creating frames that endure, using camera movement and lighting that were natural to each scene, space and character and created stories that were stark, haunting and confronting, yet having a glimmer of hope in the darkest of moments. This meant their films captured subtext in the darkness of their frames, in the tonality of the greys and colours and they found the beauty in depths of the shadows.

“Indian films include Bollywood — a portmanteau of "Bombay" and “Hollywood" — along with the Cinema of South India and other regional Indian film industries. The Indian film industry is part of the larger Indian cinema and is the largest by number of feature films produced,” (Tiwari, 2022, p91). In the late 1940s, parallel cinema in India was also forming its identity post-independence and commercial Indian cinema was adopting the chiaroscuro of film noir from the Hollywood studios. Cinematographer Dilip Gupta who studied at the New York Institute for Photography and worked at Paramount Studios, lensed Bimal Roy’s Madhumati (1958) in the film noir style using shadows to hide half the face and lighting up the other half with intermittent lightning flashes. This palette of film noir soon adapted itself to the Indian aesthetic and diaspora in the 1950s in a country that had recently thrown off the shackles of its colonial masters and the hope of a bright future had created a social wave of expectation and disenchantment. As well recognised film publication, Film Companion (2021), writes, “the black umbrella and thick rain was immortalised as love” in Raj Kapoor’s Shree 420 (1955) and is an example of darkness being used to show positive emotions. However, it was Guru Dutt’s collaboration with cinematographer VK Murthy that took parallel cinema’s love for social realism and merged it with the cinematographic conventions of film noir with the release of Pyaasa (1957), a romantic melodrama shot in black and white. Pyaasa, or The Thirsty One, is the story of a man’s search for compassion in the cold cynicism of a newly independent Indian society. Cinematographer Vikas Urs says of the cinematography of Pyaasa (Pranati, 2023), “He (VK Murthy) understood the idea and the beauty of darkness. The song from Pyaasa — Yeh duniya agar mil bhi jaaye — talks about the spirit of the poet not understood by society. He was completely immersive in black and white tonality and understanding tonality to express the inner-self.” VK Murthy went on to lens several movies and photographed some of India’s most memorable films. He was a pioneer of deep shadows, exploring the richness and tonality of darkness in Indian cinematography.

Visual language in Japan and India has been using techniques from classical Hollywood for decades and creating films that are aesthetically and intrinsically their own. My background and culture allow me to bridge the gap between the dominant conventions and what is practiced in Asia. After all, to tell the stories I want to as a creative practitioner, it is as Film Companion (2021) says, “Beauty in cinema is often considered a distraction, an embellishment, to be treated in a side-comment in a critic’s review of a work of art. The idea is that beauty can help make a point, but beauty cannot be the point.”

Poetics of Darkness (2024) is a test on whether darkness can be used in a scene to convey positive emotions. It is an A/B test of a two-minute dance sequence filmed in a studio and I analyse the results against the overall luminosity of the scene below. I kept all variables such as production design and performance as equal as possible, leaving room for reasonable human error. The intention is to subvert traditional classical Hollywood visual language and create a bridge between the Asian and Western aesthetics of cinematography and find the positive emotions in the shadows.

It was early on I learnt that subverting a practice does not mean the answer lies in the exact antithesis of it. As I stewed on the question, my first hurdle was to deal with the issue of - should the piece be shot in black and white? A chance remark by a classmate in a colour theory class drew my attention to a subconscious artistic choice I had been making. He was talking about different colours and the meanings we assign to them. He mentioned red as rage and lust, green as sickness and envy, and black as evil and fear. As a creative practitioner with a diverse background and on a journey to find my signature style and voice, I instinctively rebelled against these assignations and responded by saying that we as cinematographers could choose to assign any emotion to any colour through conscious choices of visual language. In that instant I found my answer to the black and white question and I knew I had to shoot in colour simply so I could assign meaning to the shadows. Black and white would turn the test into gradations of a greyscale but with colour I could create the shadows in different hues and shades of greens and blues as well. This allowed me more room to experiment with chiaroscuro and the beauty of shadows.

The Concept

The journey began as an exploration of early research on the use of darkness which pointed me towards literature around horror movies and the creation of dark, moody scenes. So, when I had the opportunity to work with Peter James ACS ASC soon after, I jumped at the chance to discuss my thoughts on using darkness to convey positive emotions with him. Over four hours, we undertook four tests, to examine various aspects of lighting to change mood while keeping all the other variables unchanged. Each set-up built on the one before, tweaking different elements of the lighting setup, aiming to lighten the mood in the scene with each change. I started with the control test and chose a simple trope from the horror genre – the classic corridor scene. I wanted to keep it simple and with the help of The Australian Film Television and Radio School (AFTRS) Art department, we set up a corridor with two windows and a door. The set was a blank slate for lights, camera and performance. The actor’s instructions were to gently open the door and walk down the corridor, looking curiously through each window as he passed it. The performance needed to be simple enough to be repeated whilst also being ambiguous and lending neither positive nor negative emotions to it. The images below are screenshots from the initial tests along with the test variables and specifications.

Specifications

- Horror corridor

- Contrast lighting (Double CTB and Double CTO)

- Camera tracks back with character

- Mood creation: Fear and dread

- Camera specs: Arri Alexa 4:3 // Anamorphic lenses // 25fps // 800 ASA

Specifications

- Horror Corridor

- Contrast lighting: Double CTB and Double CTO with frost diffusion

Camera tracks back with character

Mood creation: Fear, dread

Camera specs: Arri Alexa 4:3 // Anamorphic lenses // 25 fps // 800 ASA

Test #3

We inverted the colours used in the doorway and the windows – blue behind the door and orange through the windows. We used the hard lighting from Test 1.

Specifications

- Horror Corridor

- Contrast lighting: Double CTB and Double CTO 

Camera tracks back with character

Mood creation: Fear, dread

Camera specs: Arri Alexa 4:3 // Anamorphic lenses // 25 fps // 800 ASA

Specifications

- Horror Corridor

- Contrast lighting: Double CTB and Double CTO with frost diffusion

Camera tracks back with character

Mood creation: Fear, dread

Camera specs: Arri Alexa 4:3 // Anamorphic lenses // 25 fps // 800 ASA

There were some key takeaways from these tests.

• The inversion of the colours of light did not change the intended feeling of the scene.
• Lifting the overall ambient luminosity of the scene did not automatically lighten the mood instead an additional feeling of eeriness was created.
• The use of hard light versus soft light created a difference in lightening the mood of the scene but further testing was necessary to find the lighting criteria necessary for subverting connotations of light and shadow. 

However, the most important realisation for me was that I learnt subverting a practice does not mean the answer lies in creating the opposite of that. I could not take a genre and a style and hope to intervene in those practices while neglecting my intuitive understanding about light and shadow. The tests with Peter James allowed me to experiment within the genre but there was still a sense of foreboding in the scene that came from the tried and true conventions of the classic horror corridor sequences. 

Pre-production

The early tests and learnings with Peter James were invaluable in narrowing down the piece I wanted to craft in my journey to subverting the dominant cultural connotations of light being good and darkness being bad. I went back to the drawing board - I needed to challenge the norms of conventional cinematography, and I knew from my conceptual readings that in Japan and India, cinematographers created lighting realistically for the spaces they were lensing. It was around this time that Sanjay Leela Bhansali’s Heeramandi was released on Netflix (2024). Heeramandi, or The Diamond Bazaar, is set in British-ruled India and follows the lives of tawaifs or courtesans against the backdrop of the Indian independence movement. As I began watching the first episode, I noticed classical Hollywood lighting being employed to light spaces and characters which took away from the authenticity of the story and made me question the artistic choices, especially because the dynamic ranges of cameras today allow for creative, authentic lighting. This discovery led to the birth of my film, Poetics of Darkness (2024). I chose to lens a dance sequence where I could light with dominant conventions as well as apply the aesthetics of shadows in a way that would be real to the time period, and I could bring together the two worlds of my training - Hollywood and subcontinental - and explore positivity in darkness.

Poetics of Darkness is a film that was brought to life with the support of the AFTRS Innovation Fund and is set in the mid to late 1800s India. A dancer begins her evening soiree in the courtyard of Nawab Wajid Ali Shah’s haveli or house. We see a dim, candlelit courtyard, patrons on gaddis (mattresses) smoking their hookahs in their alcoves. We hear her ghungroos (musical anklets) before we see her walk into the courtyard. She strikes a match and lights the lamp she is carrying. She places the lamp down and begins her performance. I created two tests of the piece - Test A - light for dominant conventions and Test B - lighting for authenticity using candlelight or similar items. Cameras today have many stops of dynamic range, and the tests were an exploration of technology as much as they were about aesthetics. Furthermore, the gender-bending aspect of the narrative was a nod to my queer, brown background. Historically, the women would dance for the men, but I chose to invert this narrative. 

Architecture and production design is an important component of Poetics of Darkness, not just to build the world of 19th century India, but also to support the lighting in the experiment. The courtyard was repurposed from a set used on ABC’s show, House of Gods (2024) that the production designer secured with the help of the AFTRS Props and Staging department. The idea was to incorporate lighting within the set by creating alcoves, areas to reflect candlelight and even have hanging mirrors to reflect ambient light - all while staying true to the time period and the world we were building.  However, there were many production and logistical issues that needed to be navigated in bringing this film to life. The set was too big for the studio which meant lighting with candlelight, a difficult endeavour, became even harder. My first choice of performer, a classically trained dancer, was not available for the one day of studio booking I had managed to secure. Furthermore, lack of timely preparation of decor and props during pre-production, especially in the week leading up to shoot, meant a lot of compromises had to be made with regard to lighting and the overall aesthetics. For example, sheer curtains and sconces which were a big part of the initial plan, had to be left out and these were meant to both reflect light and act as sources of light within the set. Since this was a small production, I also produced and directed this piece, and I chose not to operate the camera. This was a learning experience I will carry with me into the industry because I had to trust my camera team implicitly and ensure I planned shots and movements with the team beforehand. Being able to stand away from the cameras and watch the monitors meant I could look at the bigger picture and tweak lights and levels as needed to bring Poetics of Darkness to life.

Production

Levels and Luminosity

Achieving a low-key, dim look requires a lot more light than one would think. I needed to ensure I had enough levels of light to illuminate the characters’ faces and not lose them in shadows all the time. I wanted them to float in and out of the darkness as the dance progressed instead. I realised just how tricky lighting with candlelight is as I began the 8-hour pre-light session I had in studio. This was the day before the production and all the elements of the set and equipment had been locked in. The lighting plan here gives a top-down view of where I had placed the lights for Tests A and B - A being the classical Hollywood convention and B exploring the aesthetics of darkness. 

As a cinematographer, I approach every scene by lighting the space first. This was no different. I began with mimicking a full moon night in the open-air courtyard, the architecture of such spaces naturally allowing for light to filter through the ornate jali (lattice) work of the windows. I placed two 5K tungsten lights with full CTB gels at 15% intensity to create the hard beams filtering through the back wall. I used a 10K at 10% with a straw gel to find the balance in colours and create a more natural moonlit look for authenticity. My idea was to use the moonlight to achieve overall ambience just like it would have been the case in 19th century India. Moonlight would have bounced off marble floors raising the ambience levels. With a lack of marble in the AFTRS Props and Staging store, I chose to stay with the studio floor as it is since the texture is closer to a grey marble under hard light. This was just enough to add some softness to the overall image. 

I placed the candles in strategic places. The first candles I placed were within the rectangular columns of the set. However, for safety reasons I couldn’t place naked flames within the hollow structures and used Aputure B7 bulbs set to 2800K with the flicker function to mimic real candlelight. This gave more body, structure and tone to the middle of the frame. These however had less of an impact on faces but were useful in creating a glow and ambient light that were reflected by nearby reflective objects like the mirrors on the back wall, the sequins on the dancer and the jewellery. I placed real candles on candelabras in the alcoves and each had 3-5 tall candles. These candelabras were much stronger in luminescence than the B7 bulb - about a half a stop of light more and created a soft, gentle glow in the arches. Furthermore, the candles placed as part of the set up in front of the Nawab played a key role in lighting faces as per the image below. For safety, I did ensure we had one person on set who was dedicated to watching the flames and extinguishing them after every shot.

For a final kick of authenticity, I chose to use haze in the scene. In a nawab’s evening soiree it is probable for attendees to smoke hookahs that would create a low dense fog, not unlike a dim bar filled with cigarette smoke. The haze helped add a quarter stop of light to the image but controlling it was difficult. The haze dissipated quickly in the large studio and would dissolve even faster as the dancer twirled in her long skirt which acted like a fan. I also only had access to one working haze machine and it took a long time to fill the space with enough smoke. 

As a cinematographer, working collaboratively with a production designer who understands the vision of the piece is key and the final scene will reflect the relationship between the collaborators. The production and logistics challenges I faced have taught me to build in regular scheduled meetings in pre-production with clear, accountable and achievable goals with scheduled follow-ups. It is a learning that I will apply in my career as I move on to other projects and work with a variety of different collaborators. 

Framing and Composition

It was essential not to try and reinvent the wheel with the framing, composition and camera movements. For this piece to be a lighting test, I tried to keep all variables constant other than the lighting. I wanted to stay true to the visual language that exists around the Indian film dance sequence. My resonances were sequences from Indian films that established the grammar of the dance sequence - Mughal-e-Azam (1960) and Umrao Jaan (1981). Watching these movies I realised I had to shoot my film with three cameras because I was trying to replicate sequences that would have taken days to shoot on multi-million dollar budgets. I chose to use three cameras because two would give me two angles and the third would be on a steadicam and the additional coverage would be invaluable in the edit. 

The Results

Even before I had an opportunity to look at the footage in the edit or grade, I knew from the monitors on set that what I had set out to explore was already working. Even in studio I could see there was enough level in the Test B. Curiously enough it was the atmosphere moreover the change in atmosphere as the lights went off that made me realise something interesting was at play. All day I had spectators walking in and out of the studio but there was a decided silence that fell on the set at the beginning of take one of Test B. That enthusiasm carried us forward till the end of the shoot and while the picture has still not been fully edited, from the work in progress I can already support and validate my argument. I maintain that this study in light was a success. 

Truly, it excites me to see the realisation of what I set out to do at the beginning of my journey at AFTRS when I was still formulating the vocabulary around my technical craft and to be able to hone the skills I have learnt into creating scenes with deliberation has been a personal success. 

In conclusion, cinematography can certainly intervene in dominant cultural connotations of light and darkness. The prevalent Judeo-Christian ideology from classical Hollywood has become a standard in cinematography and visual language today but as we have seen, not all countries adopted these ideologies wholesale. Japanese and Indian films used the techniques of classical Hollywood chiaroscuro to bring their own shadowy aesthetics to life. I have the unique privilege of my culture and background that I can apply to my technical skills and bridge a gap between styles of film that cross several borders. 

During the process of making Poetics of Darkness, I wondered at several points if the endeavour I was undertaking could be applied to another project. What the process showed me as a creative practitioner is that I approach stories with authenticity. If I choose to stay true to the story, narratives and characters, I can apply what I have learnt about lighting spaces and shadows to all my future projects.

While this was a contained test within the confines of funding and time, the research has broader implications for our industry at large. My work on this exegesis, the creative practice-based research and the creation of Poetics of Darkness have allowed me an in-depth look at my processes and has helped to put words to what I always knew to be instinctive and intuitive. I hope that by sharing my findings in this exegesis, I can help other cinematographers, filmmakers and storytellers bridge the gap between their cultures and dominant conventions of filmmaking across all aspects and departments of our crafts, and make their filmmaking experience a much more diverse and interesting one. My brief attempt here in cinematic terms has been to turn darkness upside down. Black can be the colour in cinema. And why not.

You can access the reference list here.

This endeavour would not have been possible without the support of The Australian Film Television and Radio School and the Innovation Fund Panel who financed this project. I would like to express my deepest appreciation to my Discipline Lead Simon Smith, without whose guidance this research on light would never have seen the light of day. I am also grateful to my cohort members for their humour and moral support on this journey we took together. Lastly, I would be remiss in not mentioning my family whose belief in me has kept me going all through this course.