Black and white is a channel decision
Taking the colour out of a photograph is not one operation with one answer. It is a choice about which colours are allowed to become light and which become dark, and the choice is the whole picture.
What you are really being asked
A colour pixel carries three numbers. A grey pixel carries one. Somewhere between those two facts a decision has to be made about how the three become the one, and every monochrome photograph you have ever seen is the consequence of somebody making it — usually without being told they were.
The default answer, the one a saturation slider gives you, weights green most heavily, red moderately and blue barely at all. Roughly 21 per cent red, 72 per cent green, 7 per cent blue, in the weighting most screens and most software use. Those numbers are not arbitrary: they approximate how sensitive human vision is to each part of the spectrum, so the grey that comes out looks about as bright as the colour that went in. As a measurement that is exactly right. As a photograph it is often the dullest of the available options.
The trouble is that “about as bright as it was” means two things that were different colours but similar brightness become the same grey. A red door in a grey stone wall, a green sign against a blue sky, a warm face in front of a cool window — all of them can vanish into their background under the default weighting, not because the photograph is weak but because the conversion threw away the only thing that was separating them.
Moving the weights
Push the weight onto red and anything red becomes light while anything cyan or blue becomes dark. A blue sky contains almost no red, so it drops to near black and the clouds — which are white, and therefore full of red as well as everything else — stay bright. That is the famous dramatic-sky conversion, and it is three numbers, not a preset.
Push the weight onto green and foliage lifts. Grass and leaves reflect a lot of green and little else, so they move from the muddy mid-grey the default gives them to something bright and separated. Skin goes the other way: the warm areas and any blemish in them carry more red than green, so they darken and become more visible, which is either useful documentary honesty or a problem depending on why you are there.
Push the weight onto blue and you get the least flattering and most atmospheric of the three. Skin goes dark and mottled, skies go pale and flat, and shadows fill with the noise that lives in the blue channel of almost every digital sensor. Used deliberately it reads as cold and grainy. Used by accident it reads as a mistake.


