photography

Our Life’s Story

Our Life's Story

This past weekend, I lost a long-time friend and college fraternity brother.

To say it was unexpected is to put it ridiculously lightly. Dan was my age, in improving physical condition, and three weeks away from getting married. To boot, he was a smart, friendly, ethical guy – a real model for what a decent human being could be.

At his visitation, I was alone. I didn’t know anyone there, and I met his family for the first time. As I waited in the receiving line, a slideshow of images cycled through. Here was Dan’s life on display: grinning with his nieces, giving a thumbs up at a Detroit Red Wings game, big family photos, childhood times in costume or on a rocking horse. Standing there, waiting, I saw some of Dan’s life that I hadn’t seen before, and it made me feel even closer to my friend.

That’s the power of a snapshot. It shows all those important (and, often, unimportant but enlightening) moments in between the big milestones in life. Dan’s college graduation photos were in there, sure, as were his elementary school portraits. But it was the slice-of-life stuff that hit me the hardest. The snapshots showed Dan living his life. The showed him being himself.

It’s obvious, right? That’s the power of photography and everyone knows it.

What it showed me, though, was the power of the non-artistic, spur-of-the-moment, no-one-is-going-to-see-this photograph. When we tell the stories of ourselves, it’s those kinds of photos that help people really get to know us. They show us being our non-idealized selves.

I was sad to lay my college friend to rest. I was happy to see, through his snapshots, that he led such a full and meaningful life.

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Putting the Camera Down

Put The Camera Down

Jonathan Blaustein at A Photo Editor:

It it ever a good idea to just put the camera down and watch?

Indeed, and a good question.

Leaving Yellowstone National Park many years ago, I spotted this perfect conical mountain ringed by a storm cloud. It looked like a scene from Lord of the Rings – all chaos and fury and fire, the peak lit up by lightning. Here was Mount Doom, and it was angry.

Unlike Blaustein, I had my camera handy. But I didn’t use it. “No, this one’s just for you,”I told myself. “Not for anyone else.”

Yes, putting the camera down sometimes is a good idea.

I kept that moment private, with no picture record to prove it happened. It’s as vivid in my memory, 10 years later, as anything else on that cross-country road trip.

(via Jeffery Saddoris)

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Begging For the Why

Why, Not How

Patrick LaRoque:

I get tired of purely technical pursuits. I get tired of how without why. I’m also afraid of repeating what’s already been said by photographers I respect, and to whom I have nothing, zero, nada to add—David Hobby, Joe McNally, Zack Arias…seriously, all the bases have been superbly covered already. If I’m to contribute anything serious, it would need to at least provide a different angle…

It’s a pursuit that has to be about emotion just as much as sharpness. It needs the how while also begging for the why in order to avoid becoming an empty shell.

This is the rub. There’s so much photography how-to material out there, how do you make it your own?

It’s the emotion part that makes what we do unique. What do we bring to the process beyond technique? What are we trying to say, and how do we say it?

LaRoque’s first post in his Process series, The Film Curve, is a goodie – about how to set the tonal range for a photo in the highlights and shadows to express your creative goals.

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Urbex, (Mostly) Abandoned

Not So Abandoned

I used to have more time to make photos.

My commute was 30 minutes, but if I left early I could stop and take a landscape, or catch a beautiful sunrise. And sometimes, I’d have enough time to explore an abandoned building or home. Beautiful country roads, lovely scenery, and no rush.

Not so much anymore. My commute is now an hour long, at minimum, and it’s mostly interstate driving. This cuts back on the time I have to get out and explore.

One of the casualties of this new setup is my abandoned photography. My commute is longer and busier, I work on a big-time college campus in a mid-sized city, and I just don’t have the time like I used to. It’s a bummer.

Part of me also feels like I’m moving on from urbexing, creatively. I want to do new things, and make different kinds of photographs.

Except when I take a new way into work, like I did last week. Instead of busy I-94 East, I ventured down US-12. It added 20-30 minutes to my drive. It was so worth it. For one, it felt like my old commute: moseying at a nice pace, lots of scenery to check out, and the fog helped make the landscape extra interesting.

For two, I noticed a few abandoned building opportunities (including my old haunts in the Irish Hills) – like this abandoned farm structure.

The itch still gets me when I see an abandoned property. It used to be a big part of who I was, creatively, and I’ve had to let some of that go. But it’s okay. I’ll try to make time for adventure when I have the time and inclination.

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Overthinking Things

Overthinking Family Photos

We photographers worry, don’t we?

We worry about what social media platform is right for us. We worry about when and where to share things. We worry our work won’t be seen, or won’t sell, or won’t make an impact.

We worry what our cameras say about us. We worry about not taking time to get out and shoot. We worry about those undone projects, or those missed opportunities.

CJ Chilvers addressed my sharing family photos conundrum on his blog:

I’m also sure we’re overthinking things a bit. I doubt professional photographers give a second thought to posting any photo they create that meets their standards.

He’s so right. I am overthinking things. The little privacy gland in my brain always vibrates when I dip into the personal. Turning that off is hard.

That’s probably true for other photographers, too. We overthink things all the time.

Maybe it’s time we just did. Instead of living in our heads, let’s live out in the world. Make things. Share things. Spend less time on “strategy,” or shots left untaken.

 

 

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Marvel At the Now

Marvel At The Now

Things used to be pretty ugly, and yet beautiful, in this country just a few decades ago.

How will our photographs record the history of today?

You don’t feel time passing as it happens so much, at least not visually. It’s just part of the everyday. But when you look back 10 or 20 years, my how things have changed.

This comes up when someone tags me in an old high school photo on Facebook. I look at what we were wearing, what our hairstyles were, how dated everything looks. It didn’t at the time, of course, because we were living it.

It’s a neat thought, to think that the photos we’re taking now will be marveled at by some future civilization.

(’70s photos via On Taking Pictures)

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Adds Up to Something New

Starting new photography projects

Todd Hido, on starting a new project:

That is how things always start for me—I will make one or two photographs that I don’t necessarily fit with my other ones and then I go out and try to build on them. Slowly it adds up into something.

So true for me as well. I’ll often get an idea, try it out a few times, and then it doesn’t pan out. But often, something catches, and I keep going.

And hey, it’s okay to have a few going at once. Few photos here, a few nibbles there, and pretty soon you have something strong.

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Photographs As Language

Photography As Language

Mason Adams, from “On Visual Fluency“:

The devices we use to take pictures are also the devices we use to communicate, and that’s awesome.

Mason’s larger point is that photographs are being used as a type of language – everything from emoji to gorgeous mobile food photography. It’s never been easier to share the stuff we see. So what does that do to the marketing, branding, and stock photography industries? 

I really liked his analogy of the reason why we take photos:

Like layered dirt in a glass container, the act of photography IS the moment. Amplified, hallowed, the ultimate savoring of the things that bring us joy. Which is to say: Certain things can bring us joy, but not as much as when we take pictures of them.

So many photographers I know take photos to remember things.

That’s still true, but now we’re taking photos to say things—about ourselves, about the world around us—as well as to preserve memories.

(via Flak Photo)

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Feel Euphoria

The morning after our daughter was born.

When my daughter was born, my wife and I spent most of a week in the hospital.

Near the end of that time, I headed home to take care of a few things—the mail, the trash, clean up a bit, that kind of thing—and I realized something:

I never felt better in my life.

There was no stress. No anxiety. No worries. I felt this overwhelming sense of relaxation – of everything being right and good with the world. It was amazing.

Thinking about it later, my euphoria could be explained by a few things. For one, my entire life that week was wrapped up in caring for my newborn daughter. I rarely thought of myself, or my needs. Everything I did was for her (and, in close second, my wife). Selflessness breeds good vibes.

For two, I was severely lacking in sleep. A hospital cot is no place to get good, quality rest. So some of that stress-free feeling could have come from a profound mental tiredness. Who knows?

Also, I felt like an older version of me had passed away, and I had taken on this new role of “father.” I was a daddy. My old life, as I knew it, was gone. A new, exciting, terrifying future was in front of me. It was awesome in the old sense of the word (“full of awe”).

People often say that, facing a near-death experience, their post-experience life takes on a new shine. Their survival comes with a burden and an opportunity – a kind of second chance. It’s the only similar experience I can think of that describes what I felt on that drive home from the hospital to run some errands.

My headaches were gone. My shoulders weren’t all bunched up around my neck. Everything was rainbows and sunshine. It was weird! And it was something I’ll never forget.

That feeling is, as of today, a year old, along with my daughter. While that feeling faded, it never truly went away. It’s hung around, a quiet buzzing along the edges of everyday life, and it gets louder every time I see or hold my baby. Lots of parents know this feeling. In fact, many people tried to tell me what it’s like before I became a father.

But you don’t really know that feeling until it happens. I relay that message to fellow parents when I see them; I give them a wink and a nod of understanding.

“You know what it’s like,” I say. “And before it happened, you didn’t know.”

So I get the chance to put that feeling into the photos that I take of my daughter. She’s had a year of daddy sticking a camera in her face, as many children and many generations before her have experienced. Usually, she’s a good sport.

What she doesn’t know yet is that daddy tries to take that special feeling, from a year ago, and translate it through the photos I make of her. I hope that someday, many years from now, she’ll see the photos and understand how much I love her.

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County Fair Famous

County Fair Famous

My family took a trip to the Jackson County Fair a few weeks ago, as we do every year. It’s something we look forward to each year: the food, the animals, the people watching. All the lights and sounds and colors make for great photo opportunities. It’s a lot of fun.

Each year, in the 4H pavilion, the fair hosts contests – everything from antiques to crops to artwork. Last year, I entered some photos for the first time, and did pretty well. This year, I opted not to, just because the deadline passed and I had other things going on.

Looking through all the entries this year, it struck me: There were a ton of great photos, and I hadn’t heard of any of the photographers.

As much as we may follow other photographers that we like, and check out exhibitions of nationally-known artists, there’s a ton of great work being made right in your own community, by people you’ve never met. You may work with one of these folks. Or they may make you coffee. Or they pick up your trash.

They work just as hard as you do, find great scenery like you do, struggle with creativity and energy just like you, and wonder about getting their work seen – as we all do. They’re all out there hustling, trying to find their photographic voice, and entering a little county fair competition to get some confirmation of their vision.

We struggle so much with marketing, and self promotion, and creative struggles. Meanwhile, our neighbors are out there making stuff, and entering it into a competition to earn a few bucks and a ribbon.

Maybe they have something to teach you (or vice versa). Maybe you should look them up and go make something together.

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