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Kindle Notes & Highlights
The camera on its own is a wonder, but in the hands of the poet, the storyteller, the seeker of change, or the frustrated artist, it can create something alive that touches our humanity.
the best photographs rely more on the fact that the photographer saw something the rest of us overlooked in the first place. To make those kinds of photographs, you have to be present, with an open mind, and see the world in a unique way.
I have never asked, “Is it art?” Instead, I ask, “Does it have soul?” Is it alive? Do I see something of the artist within? Does it move me? Does it make me think? Does it challenge me? Does it enrich my human experience? That is enough for me.
But photography is not (at least the way I understand the medium) a technical pursuit. It is an aesthetic pursuit achieved by technical means.
merely pointing the camera in the direction of the thing about which we have something to say and pressing the shutter usually results in nothing more than a snapshot. It’s a photograph of something, to be sure, but not about something. Not every angle or moment or framing will give that subject its best expression.
journaling.
You have vision. We all do. It’s not the having it that matters so much as it is the willingness to keep pace with it, to let it change and evolve as we ourselves do, and to explore the changing ways that best express that vision.
Photography, like music, is a language. It’s an imprecise language, but it speaks to us, often powerfully.
We can make art, and call it art, without saying it’s brilliant, or even good. We can say things through that art without saying things that are particularly clever or world-changing.
Since when is it not enough to simply visually point at a moment between a child and his mother, and by doing so say, “This is beautiful,” or “This is human”? We may not say it well. We may be clumsy with our tools and clichéd in our expression, but it can be art all the same. It can say something all the same.
The harder we look at (or for) one thing, the more certain it is we will not see other things. That is what expectations do to photographers. The key is not to look harder, but to look more openly.
Patience is allowing your body of work to surprise you, to take unexpected turns, to become something you didn’t expect, and to allow your curiosity to lead you further down the rabbit hole.
Great moments seem to be less often found or stumbled upon, and more often waited out. Whether or not you make a photograph of that moment depends on your patience, and there’s no setting on your camera for that.
Mourning over images never made, or fostering regret that our skill was no match for our vision or the speed of the scene unfolding before us, is a trap that saps us of the very resources we so need as we grow as artists.
creativity is about two things: the way we think, and the way we turn those thoughts into reality.
No matter who your audience is, they will almost universally be more moved by honest, compelling work than by something that is merely “new.”
When asked by a young photographer how he could make more interesting photographs, Jay Maisel famously replied, “Become a more interesting person.” I think “become a more interested person” also applies.
If our lives are so much about photography itself that we’re cut off from a world of influences and a lifetime of experiences, what are we making photographs about?
In order to take the camera into the world, our world has to be more than just the camera.
We are who we are due to the accumulation of all of our influences. The more intentionally and broadly we seek those influences, the more interesting we become. And out of that comes work that is also more interesting.
There are no bad ideas, only incomplete ideas that need to be protected and allowed to bounce around a little more. Don’t judge them or write them off before they’re given a chance to grow and change.
Make a sketch in your notebook, book your model or studio space, or begin making work prints for that new book. Call the collaborators or do whatever else you have to do to start. Begin!
I’m not comfortable with the idea of life as an opponent. I see my work with life as a collaboration. Perhaps it is also like a dance, though it often feels like a fight until I recognize that life is leading, and I submit to that lead, knowing I’m just new at this. In these moments of submission, my curiosity takes over and the constraints of a project, assignment, location, or scene begin to show me the way through rather than simply looking like obstacles. I once again hear Lao Tzu whispering, “What’s in the way is the way.”
Flow is a state of being that is possible when the challenge of what we do and the skill level with which we do it are high and equal to each other. Flow doesn’t happen when the challenge is vastly too much for our skill: that’s struggle. Nor does it happen when our skill or craft is vastly more capable than our vision demands. That leads to repetition and boredom, as we have likely plateaued. Flow happens when our vision demands the fullness of our craft and pulls us into a state of extreme and almost unconscious focus.
Improvisation acknowledges that the only thing we really control is our craftsmanship, because the cards themselves are out of our control.
Songwriter Josh Ritter croons these prophetic words about just this: “I’m singing for the love of it, have mercy on the man who sings to be adored.”
when we compare ourselves with others, we are looking in the wrong place. Our best work comes when we follow our curiosities, not our jealousies.
“Light yourself on fire with passion,” said John Wesley, “and people will come from miles to watch you burn.”
You don’t need someone to tell you what shutter speed to use or what lens is best. You need to get comfortable making your own decisions, using your tools in the ways that feel right to you, even if everyone else laughs at you while you do it.
To foster the best partnership with the camera, we need to treat our collaborator with respect, let it do its job, and ask nothing more of it. In return, we need to do our job. We have so much to bring to the table. What we lack is not better cameras, but better photographers. It’s our turn.
