Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School 66-70
June 10, 2009 by Syl Arena · Comments Off
This Week’s LIDLIPS
66. If you follow someone else’s path too long, you’ll lose track of where you left yours.
67. Sometimes “good enough” is better than “the best”.
68. Making yourself vulnerable is a sign of strength.
69. Never hesitate to share your guacamole.
70. Starting is the hardest part. Knowing when you are done is the second hardest part.
Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School 66–70
66. If you follow someone else’s path too long, you’ll lose track of where you left yours.
One of the hardest parts of living as a photographer is to stay true to yourself. In a world that is awash in images, it’s all too easy to want to do what more successful photographers have done. Every photographer veers off into the territory of his peers, mentors and champions from time to time. Yet, each one of us has our own path – our own vision – that’s waiting to be explored. When you are starting out, it’s natural to make photographs that others have made. Eventually though, you’ll need to find your path and have the courage to stay on it. As you venture on, when you’re tempted to chase someone else’s success, remind yourself that if you follow their path too long, you’ll lose track of where you left yours.
67. Sometimes “good enough” is better than “the best”.
Having the best (aka: most expensive) gear or producing the best (aka: most technically complex) photo is not always the best (aka: most beneficial) way to go. Having or doing the best often means spending twice as much money or time just to get a little bit more. Sure, in the Olympics being .07% faster than your competitor can be the difference between gold and silver. In photography, avoiding that obsession can be the difference between becoming an expert shooter or an expert on gear specifications. It can be the difference between making money on a shoot or having to reach into your pocket to subsidize the job. “Good enough” does not always come in second behind “the best”.
68. Making yourself vulnerable is a sign of strength.
It takes guts to open yourself to the criticism of others. “I may be good, but I’m not as good as I can be” is a hard thing to say with confidence and enthusiasm. The more you are able to open yourself to commentary, the better you’ll become. Actors have directors. Writers have editors. Athletes have coaches. Pro and amateur alike – we all need to make ourselves vulnerable to the criticism of qualified observers. Doing so is a sign of strength. Not doing so allows fear to win.
69. Never hesitate to share your guacamole.
I was having dinner with a large group of photographers after a workshop when I noticed that the fellow next to me was eyeing the huge mound of guacamole that had arrived on my plate. “Do you like guacamole” I asked. The enthusiasm in his reply left no doubt. So, despite my lifelong love of southwestern cuisine, I gave him the whole pile. A few years later, I was attempting to contact an internationally-known photographer in Manhattan. Turns out that the fellow to whom I’d given my guacamole had moved to New York and become his studio manager. Rather than being tossed out, my letter was put before the photographer and I received a personal reply. Never hesitate to share your bounty with another photographer. A couple of smashed avocados might just be the ticket that gets you to the next level.
70. Starting is the hardest part. Knowing when you are done is the second hardest part.
Sir Isaac Newton, the 17th-century physicist, could have been a career counselor for creatives. He demonstrated that something at rest tends to stay at rest and that something in motion tends to stay in motion – until acted upon by an outside force. For the creative, getting a project started is the hardest part. Coming up with the initial bit of inspiration seems easy. Taking the first few steps at converting the inspiration into action is the real challenge. Then, once you’re in the groove and the creative stream is turning into a river, you’ll hit the creative’s second-hardest challenge – figuring out when you should stop.
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Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School 61-65
June 3, 2009 by Syl Arena · Comments Off
This Week’s LIDLIPS
61. Humor contributes to global warming.
62. Creativity and curiosity are fraternal twins.
63. The more I look at my work, the less I like it.
64. It used to be that photography was just another way to make a mark on a piece of paper.
65. Photography is proof that Darwin was right.
Lessons I Didn’t Learn In Photo School 61–65
61. Humor contributes to global warming.
While we come in many shapes, sizes and colors, it’s evident that the smile is universal. As a photographer, use this knowledge with impunity. Pointing a lens at someone can be intimidating – on both ends. If you find a way to connect, the intimidation will evaporate. Crack a joke. Make fun of yourself. Do it knowing that we can’t laugh without smiling.
62. Creativity and curiosity are fraternal twins.
Creativity and curiosity were born of the same mother. They may look different – but at their core they are the same. You cannot be creative without having a strong curiosity. “If I do this, what will happen?” is at the core of the creative’s journey. Add spontaneity as a playmate to the pair of twins and you have an explosive mix.
63. The more I look at my work, the less I like it.
When I’m shooting, the photos that I get most excited about are the ones that show me something new or take me to a level I’ve not climbed to before. Yet, the more I look at these images, the less new they become. The more I make these types of images, the less challenging they become. When the images become commonplace, I lose interest and my enthusiasm for them slides. It’s not the photo that’s changed. It’s me. Like a high school crush, when the infatuation is over, my interest moves on. I’ve stopped worrying about this. Time can be a great filter. I’ve come back to my images, sometimes days later and sometimes years later, and found a newly-kindled enthusiasm for what I see. Now, when I look at my work and don’t like what I see, I ask if I’m looking at it too much rather than too little.
64. It used to be that photography was just another way to make a mark on a piece of paper.
For the first 150 or so years of its history, photography was just another way to make a mark on a piece of paper. (Yes, yes – some of the early processes marked up plates of metal or put an image on a piece of glass – but the main medium of delivery was paper.) As novel as it was, for the first many decades of photography’s existence, it wasn’t even a “good” way to mark up a piece of paper. For accuracy, a piece of charcoal or a tray of water colors could deliver more tonal and color fidelity than early photographs. Of course, all that was sorted out. Photography has long been able to deliver images that vividly portray the world around us – still mainly on paper.
65. Photography is proof that Darwin was right.
Today, we are some 30 years short of the bicentennial of photography’s invention. The reign of paper as the delivery medium for photography is collapsing. The Internet has morphed from being the secret realm of academics and soldiers into being the world’s largest public library. Devices like the iPhone and Kindle are replacing books of all types. Now more images are delivered as photons than as droplets of ink. Today’s babies will grow up to remember paper as something they enthusiastically smeared paint on with their fingers in pre-school and little else. Photography is managing to keep pace. Many photographers aren’t.
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