Language largely consists of nouns (name words) and verbs (doing words), and a standard sentence contains both. But, as a rule, people want to turn a description (such as person-who-takes-pictures) into a new noun (photographer). Giving something a name feels as if it confers knowledge and control: liked naming a disease. But there’s only control if the name helps in some way – a diagnosis that leads to understanding the options for treatment is good: giving a name change is nothing in itself, though it makes it quicker to refer to the something named.
But the change can be subtle: for instance, I’m reading an article in Black and White Photography called The Proscenium Arch. Tim Daly’s contention is that many successful pictures are the result of a photographer framing the picture as a performance, a piece of theatre that is slightly separated from real life, like a play on a traditional proscenium arch stage.
It’s perhaps a little different from the basic technique of having framing elements at the edge of a composition. It using those elements to say that what’s beyond them is special and a noteworthy with that realisation, I have something new to look for in composing my photographs.