I’m sitting down with a friend in New York City for breakfast. Mutually, we both love everything about photography, but have two completely different approaches and philosophies.
Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash
My friend, Andy, started a photography group with the idea of showcasing different photographer's work. The idea is that each week, we receive a new assignment, and each photographer will follow up to post their particular photographs to our message board. At first, the momentum of the group and tasks were fantastic. Eventually, though, it's hard to maintain that momentum when other things in life can get in the way. People stopped posting and following the assignments, and it seemed that it would die off.
Part of me came to New York to pick Andy's brain on the idea of keeping the different photographers connected. I love the idea of fostering together a community of like-minded individuals. Here's the problem, though — you can create that community, keeping them consistent and engaged is the problem. There are so many hurdles: differing personalities, ideas, thoughts, opinions, and photographic viewpoints.
"Someone wanted to know who the better photographer was?" Andy says to me. Puzzled, I thought about how I could articulate the question.
Photography is one of the most personal forms of art out there. It is also hard to narrow down a unifying theory on the exact process from which to learn. Some people will argue learning on film has certain benefits, while others will say learning on digital is just as easy. The truth? These philosophies are nor right nor wrong; they are merely different ways to teach a diverse and wide-ranging subject.
In the natural world, most of our daily lives are rooted in a meritocracy — the measurements of success and accomplishment. The majority want to learn from these successful people. We wish to be their disciples and tell us the secret to be successful as if they will whisper a secret in our ear, telling us the right path to take. In the real world of photography, it is hard to find a proper teacher and mentor. Anyone can snap a photo. While one image may hold a striking message, it may not resonate with everyone. Photography is flawed and dysfunctional in so many ways — the millions upon millions of differing perspectives and biases.
"He wants to know who the better photographer is?" I reply. This question is substantial and contains many layers.
Art itself is not about competition. It is not about who can outdo the other. At its core, art is about expression. Think about humanity's history. How did we ever vent our frustration, struggle, admiration, love, tranquility, and so many other internalized emotions before the advent of modern medicine? Art was a sanctuary for people to vent their ideas. Unfortunately, through socialization and other forms of social engineering, we have learned that certain avenues of life are merit-based rather than expressive-based. Everything is a subtle competition between peers. Equally troublesome and disheartening for people in the pursuit of truth. What is art? What is the truth? How would you best explain the philosophy of purpose?
These questions are deeply based on experience and personal philosophy. If a camera crew walked the streets of New York City and asked these questions to a random passerby, each item would answer differently. If I said that purpose is, "Finding meaning through everyday life," then that only procures vagueness. The vagueness of which can't identify. At the end of all of these questions, it doesn't get closer to finding an answer. "What is art?" "What is the truth?" These questions can be rhetorical or digested on a case-by-case basis.
This is the same concept when it comes to art. Every single expression will be different in a group of people. We are all uniquely different through our social upbringing. Through nature or nurture, whatever the argument is on our developmental process. We are all distinctly different from one another. What is so puzzling to people when they start looking at the arts, and why can it be frustrating?
To answer the question, "Who is the better photographer?" It took me some time to reflect and try to articulate a way in which people can understand.
If you take two $1 bills out of your pocket and hold them out in front of you, I'll ask you, "Which $1 bill is more valuable?" This might seem confusing at first. They are both the same amount of currency. Each dollar is similar in value. One dollar bill is torn, twisted, with wrinkles all over the ends. The other bill looks newer, probably because it is. If these dollar bills could speak, which one would you want to listen too? The one that just left the factory, or the twisted, wrinkled dollar bill that has probably been all over the place? Although it is weathered and torn, it is still the same value as the other dollar bill. The experiences and stories are what make these dollar bills have a different texture, shape, and look — congruent principles to photography.
Every photographer is of the same value. Every single photographer is like the dollar bills, the same amount of currency. How are you shaped? What is your texture? What is your look? If you have something to say, what do you want to say? This is how art should be perceived, not as a competition, but as a way to express the self. It is not about competition; it is about how to express the self best.
"Who is the better photographer?" Should be rephrased as, "How can we make each other better photographers?"
To move forward with photography, one must be open to feedback and apply these principles in their work. If you shut everyone out, and revert to the idea of competition, your work will suffer. Some noble truths may be painful for some people to accept. It's questionable to me whether certain people are taught how to deal with critique? I remember trying to mentor a particular individual. They gave me excuse after excuse, always trying to speak over me.
"This image is nice, but I'd like to see," as they inject the excuse as to why they couldn't get the image. A barrier many artists find themselves intertwined.
There is a distinct difference between criticism and constructive criticism. I've seen so-called mentors berate a fellow for trying to grab an image that was intricate and difficult. You could tell the new photographer was at least trying and willing to listen to feedback, but the mentor was not so good at creating a positive feedback loop for the student. I hate this. I hate when I see someone that is putting their heart and soul into something, then greeted with harsh critique.
As a photographer, we must be open to the different sub-genres of photographic imagery. While I'm not the most well versed in portraits, maybe I can still provide some insight as to what I see? What if an idea or perspective comes through my noggin' that another person hasn't thought of yet? The process of critique is to make every one of us better.
Digesting and filtering proper critique and constructive criticism is a life-long learning process. I can't tell you which feedback will work for you, or which won't. That will have to be determined by the self. No one can tell you which are the good ones and the bad ones. If you have an attachment and emotional response to an image, then share the story along with it.
My approach to photography is that every single image holds a story. It is a memory, a moment caught in time. Somewhere, someplace, at a specific time, the picture was taken.
That in itself is beautiful.