Postcards from the Creative Journey

The Path to Sovereign Vision

Eel Creek Dunes

Many years ago I attended a photo workshop taught by Ted Orland and David Bayles. In this workshop, David gave me some advice on one path to creating photographs. I used this advice as one of the text elements for my “Dunes” folio. Here is a path to photographic growth.

Don’t make photographs

Make photographs, but don’t concern yourself with whether they are good or satisfying.

Make photographs, but pretend that you don’t care whether they are good or satisfying.

Make photographs and have your friends assure you that they are good or satisfying

Make photographs that you know are good or satisfying because they look as good and satisfying as the ones in Popular Photography.

Make photographs that you know are good because they look as good as your favorite artist.

Make photographs that are good because they satisfy the truth you feel in your heart – the truth you feel that owes no defense or apology or reference to other, when the three fears are set aside; the fear that you will not be loved, the fear that you will not be in control and the fear that your work is no good.

Many years later, I purchased the book, “Art and Fear” and found many of the concepts and ideas in this book were discussed in this (and many other) of Ted and Dave’s workshops. “Art and Fear” is a very good book that addresses the issues all artists face creating their art in a world that doesn’t really care.

Sovereign vision

Cannisters, from The Fifty Project

Sovereign vision. I heard this term at a lecture last year and wrote it down on a note card. My scrawled notes continued with the definition, “Once you have thrown off the obvious influences, or more likely have internalized and evolved them into your own way of looking at things.” I think that is the goal of all photographers whether they know it or not. We all start out making photographic clones (go back to see my Pepper polaroid) and progress on to the “heavily influenced” stage before we actually come into our own version of reality. When we begin to see and respond to our own version of reality, our artwork becomes our own. We’ve removed the training wheels and go forward under our own power and control.

We venture off to see the things we want to see, learn how to respond to them and create artwork based on our singular view of the world. Sovereign vision does not come quickly or easily, but a process of growth. The growth is a result of photographic experience in addition to personal and artistic maturation.

Making Some Time to Photograph

Ansorge Hotel: Reflections

I’m not photographing as much as I would like to photograph. My life seems to get in the way of me getting out with my camera to photograph on a frequent basis. So, I signed up for a photographic trip with the local camera club to go out and photograph spring wildflowers in a local state park. It’s a sure sign you’re not photographing enough if you have to spend time reviewing your camera instruction manual before you go out to photograph. At least I was able to find the manual and go over to make sure I actually knew how to override all the automatic settings so I could make the camera do what I want it to do.

I used to do this when my main camera was a view camera. Before I went out on my annual photo safaris with Brooks Jensen I actually spent time practicing setting up my view camera. I would get out my tripod, set the tripod up, get the camera out of the bag, unfold it, insert the lensboard and focus. I would repeat this about ten or fifteen times. Boring? Yes. Necessary? Very much so. Being technically adept at camera operation may not make you a great photographer, but it might give you a better chance to make one of those “decisive moment” images.

Will I make any worthwhile photographs? I hope so but it’s not likely. I will change the goal for the day to be out in the world and see how much I remember about using my camera.

Post trip observations

In terms of preparation, I got out my little travel tripod (we were warned to expect as much as a two mile “walk in the park” to get to our suggested sites, so I decided to go with the ultra-light tripod) and made sure that I could operate it quickly and easily. That was a worthwhile task. I had a bunch of wonderful companions on the photo trip and I was surprised to see how much “wilderness” there is inside the Raleigh city limits. I learned I am not a wildflower photographer. There is a set of equipment that sets this type of photography apart from the rock, tree, water, landscape photography I am most comfortable performing. There is a whole set of skills required to crawl through the brush and locate small flowers close to the ground. There are additional skills required to identify the subject of your photograph. I don’t possess equipment, gymnastic skills or horticultural knowledge to pursue this endeavor. But I did have a good time.

Getting in the Photographic Groove

Porch, Eastern Oregon

First platinum print

From The Fifty Project

It bears repeating. The fewer technical decisions you have to make, the more energy you can put into making the photograph. The question has been formed by trying to separate the “artistic” and “technical” parts of making a photograph. There are no pure aspects to making a photograph, but the technical and artistic aspects of creating art are deeply intertwined to the extent that you cannot separate the two aspects of creating a photograph.

To my way of thinking, the technical portion of photography (which reduces to manipulation of camera controls) needs to become a reflexive behavior. This allows the photographer to “surrender to the moment” and react intuitively and instinctively to the subject being photographed. To surrender to the moment is that wonderful experience where the photographer is completely immersed in the photographic experience and the camera operates smoothly and flawlessly as an extension of the photographer.

This experience is common to more than photographers. Musicians are in the groove when their instruments seem to play themselves. Athletes are in the zone when the entire game around them appears to be in slow motion. As a photographer you’ve been there when you finish for the day and look at the images you made and say, “Wow, I that’s great. I don’t remember making that image.”