Seeking the Interesting
We say: “I want to be a writer,” or “I want to be a photographer”; or we say: “I want to take interesting photographs,” or “I want to write interestingly,” or “I want to be interesting.” This is itself interesting. What do we really want when we want such things?
I am trying to learn to take interesting or beautiful or otherwise worthwhile photographs (worthwhile meaning to me that they contribute to someone’s sense of reality or life, at any scale: the trivial, the profound, in between; they might be worthwhile in subject, in composition, in meaning, or in some technical aspect).
I am learning very slowly, despite kind advice from many talented acquaintances and substantial family history in photography. Today I drove around looking for things to shoot and, being what S. Stratodrive calls a ‘new jack,’ had as a discretionary mechanism only (1) what has seemed interesting in other, already-taken photographs and (2) the mildest and most banal internal sensibilities.
The immediate question: why am I trying to do this? If I do not already have something interesting to offer, why am I trying to learn how to offer something interesting? Am I not leading the horse with the cart, so to speak? The beginning of creative efforts is always strange in this way: before we can express something, we must sense that there is something we should express, something not otherwise explored; or is this too serious? Might we not simply have fun?
I am reminded of trying to write while in high school: perhaps I didn’t feel a compulsory or innate urge to say things; perhaps I merely wanted to write (to “be a writer”!) and selected things for the purpose; it is inevitable in such circumstances that one’s writing will be contrived, phony, pretentious (of course, mine remains so, but for other reasons now).
As a novice photographer I resort to the cheaper tricks of the form: massive Photoshop edits for color and composition, the exploitation of my subjects for the sake of the pictures, and so on. This seems comparable to me to the use of a thesaurus or the insistence on writing about the themes that automatically resonate with everyone whether or not your treatment is any good.
It is worth wondering what motivates one’s creativity, as the decision to pursue creativity professionally likely entails substantial material privation: if it is not compulsion but desire, not need but want, it is perhaps preferable to secure an ordinary job and make a hobby of your efforts. It worked for Kafka, after all.
I had a musicology professor who said that when he didn’t play the cello for a few hours each day, he felt unwashed; short of that sort of need, what will sustain you when you are hungry and no one wishes to date you in your dull poverty? When I heard him describe his addiction, I realized that dilettantism is preferable to falsified compulsion for me. Indeed, I wish we were more comfortable with the idea of craft rather than art, that there was a cultural sphere for semi-serious art. Is that the Internet?
It is more fun, more amusing, when one accepts the inauthenticity of oneself: a phony photographer trying to be interesting without any damn reason is more tolerable when he can laugh at himself, I hope; and the same should be true for a phony writer. It is all play, after all; perhaps, then, a disclaimer is in order: please know that the author of this site is comfortable with laughter.
i want to smack you when you say things like this (in the most lovingly sisterly sort of way). i dont claim to know what your motivations may truly be, but the fact of the matter is that everyone has something to say. everyone has an interesting story or perspective on life. no photograph or piece of writing or art is completely original, the themes of our struggling humanity have been the same since the beginning of time, but what makes them unique is your personal take on it and your story.
now when you’re learning a craft, there’s always the basics. its important to learn the rules so you know how you can break them in order to heighten a mood or aesthetic. but i’ve never been impressed with fancy tricks or big words. thats like saying a good lens makes a good photographer. i think what makes a good artist is in the heart. the ability to recognize something beautiful and capture it. the ability to connect with what is basic and human in us all.
i refuse to get caught up on all the parlor tricks; theyre great tools but not the end all to great work. at the end of the day, you can use the most impressive euphemisms, best lighting, or the most clever brush strokes, but if your work has no heart, its an empty shell and meaningless.
the fact of the matter is, you write because you’re trying to express something. you’re not getting paid to blog. who cares if you’re writing about something someone else has already. your perspective makes it interesting and beautiful. i’ve seen plenty of pictures of ducks in my life, but i swear i almost ate my computer screen when i saw those pictures you posted the other day.
you have something to say, whether it comes in words or otherwise. and don’t sell yourself short. i think if youre honest with your work, the rest will come. don’t let all the rest of that stuff get in the way.
