Analog.Cafe › Essays › 17 min read by Danilo Leonardi. Published on May 19, 2025. "It does not matter what is under the hood; the only thing that matters is who is behind the wheel," declares Vin Diesel's character, Dom Toretto, in the eighth Fast & Furious film (though not a Kubrick film...). While the driver is certainly important, I would argue that the machinery also plays a significant role. Having the right tools isn't just a luxury; they are crucial when testing the limits of possibility.
This has been a recurring theme in my thoughts for many years — the interplay between artistry and technique. As a photographer and instructor, I frequently encounter the question: how can we assist learners in achieving technical proficiency without extinguishing the passion that initially attracted them to photography? My own work reflects a similar struggle between intuition and precision, inspiration and craftsmanship.
In 2019, I attended the Stanley Kubrick exhibition at the Design Museum in London, armed with my camera, capturing the photos you see here. What struck me most was Kubrick’s emphasis on mastering the tools of his craft, not as an end in itself, but to serve a greater vision. His equipment supported his artistic intent, and his understanding of these tools was vital to realizing his goals.
Outside the Design Museum, where the Stanley Kubrick: The Exhibition was held in 2019. As I contemplate how we learn and what it takes to create enduring works, my mind often returns to those rooms at the Design Museum. This reflection gives rise to this article, even after the exhibition has long moved on from London.
The article delves into the balance between artistry and technique, as showcased in Kubrick's work during the London exhibition. It is not a critique of the exhibition—many exist already—but rather a contemplation of what is required to produce something well. The tension between technique and creativity is a constant in film, architecture, and racing. We do not have to resolve it; instead, we should learn to navigate it and aspire to grow beyond it.
In this article, I discuss Kubrick, photography, and the mastery of technique; the relationship between poetics and technique—does one love the equipment or the results?; and the mindset surrounding the interplay of technique and art in photography. I explore the camera as a musical score, the myth of pure artistic expression, and draw examples from other fields like racing, highlighting the art and science of speed. I conclude with reflections on the unified craft, my experiences photographing at the exhibition, and relevant references. Additionally, I invite you to support this blog by obtaining GOLD memberships for premium features!
It all began with a lens. I initially visited the exhibition to see the storied Carl Zeiss Planar 50mm f/0.7 lens used in the candlelit scenes of Barry Lyndon. This lens has become iconic — rare, fast, and almost legendary. I expected it to be the focal point of my visit, but what I uncovered was something more substantial.
The exhibition was compact yet immersive, placing heavy emphasis on the act of capturing images, with little focus on sound recording. It almost entirely concentrated on the production phase, neglecting the crucial roles of editing and post-production, which significantly shape the final piece.
The exhibition space was dim, punctuated by pools of light illuminating props, film stills, storyboards, cameras, and lenses. It offered a brief insight into the mind of a truly meticulous creator. Although Kubrick's filmography is limited, his impact is profound.
Even the small, almost trivial remnants of his remarkable life displayed there imparted a significant message: for Kubrick, technique wasn't a constraint but rather a form of liberation. His extensive technical expertise empowered him to explore ideas that others might deem impractical or impossible.
This interplay between technique and artistry transcends cinema. In architecture, no one would install windows, however artistically they might appear, without considering structural integrity. Similarly, photography demands more than a sharp eye. The notion that one can merely “see beautifully” without a technical foundation is not romantic; it's naive. We frame our images through more than just the viewfinder—various technical decisions regarding exposure, lens selection, and perspective come into play. Thus, tools are never neutral: there’s a reason for choosing one over another.
This doesn't imply that every filmmaker needs to be an engineer, nor that every race driver should build their engine. A skilled practitioner in any domain understands their medium. To shoot the candlelit scenes in Barry Lyndon, Kubrick utilized a specially modified Zeiss Planar 50mm f/0.7 lens (initially designed for NASA) along with ISO 100 film stock (Kodak 5254), which he pushed one stop to ISO 200, allowing him to capture scenes using solely natural candlelight. These shots were filmed in historic sites (e.g., Petworth House in West
This article examines the interplay between technique and artistry, as demonstrated in Kubrick’s work at the London exhibition. It isn’t a critique of the exhibition—there are many of those available—but rather a contemplation on what is required to produce something of high quality.