Who is this picture for? (Part 1 — Have I considered a purpose?)
Do photography your own way. But, consider who you’re doing it for.
Photography is a craft of many uses. On a daily basis, hundreds if not thousands of photos cross our line of sight. Many of those photos were created for a variety of very specific purposes through the eyes of the photographer. Among those purposes, one cannot truly be deemed better or worse than the other — they are simply different. Some photos may be created specifically for our eyes to see while others were created without any expectation that our eyes might ever see them. As photographers, and as viewers of photos, we each get to decide which of those purposes and uses are the most rewarding and satisfying to us in a given occasion.
The focus of this series involves examining whether or not we’re being purposeful with our own photographic creations. Outside of the hundreds that are created with a purpose in mind, many other photos have been created with nary a moment of consideration as to how they might ever be used, or who that use might benefit. It’s my goal with this series to remind us all that most of our “bad” photos, are simply photos that don’t effectively serve and convey some kind of purpose.
Even the most casual photos should serve some kind of purpose.
Through my years as a photographer, I've gone through periods of creative success, as well as creative blocks. I've experienced periods of disillusionment. I've gone through periods of time when I put down my cameras for months because it simply wasn't giving me the same satisfaction anymore. Through those ebbs and flows, when I consider the down periods, there’s a commonality surrounding the photos that were created during that period — a lack of effective purpose.
Cameras have become a constant companion in our lives. In the age of smart phones, we rarely find ourselves in any situation without a camera and rarely resist firing the shutter during moments of joy. The camera itself — a hand held device that takes a live 3-dimensional moment in our lives and renders that moment into a flat 2-dimensional set of pixels or ink blots— is an amazing tool that allows us to try, as we can, to give ourselves the luxury of re-visiting long gone moments in our lives. One of the most fulfilling and unique uses of photography is its capability to capture and preserve a moment of life — and then hand us those captured moments for one of many purposes. An effective photo may teach us about our lives; it may tap into our emotions in ways that nothing else can; it may trigger memories that unlock doors and energize stale friendships; it may remind us of pleasurable sounds and smells; it may remind us of sides of our lives that we've long forgotten as time passes. It’s beneficial purposes are endless!
Or, a photo may not do a single one of those things.
If so, who is to blame?
How can we be assured that our photos will have those capabilities?
If we’re doing our jobs with the camera in our hands, purposes are always at least being somewhat considered. Who might this photo be for? What purpose could this photograph effectively serve? Does it effectively serve any purpose? Is that purpose already being served by hundreds of other photos I've made? Is that purpose satisfying and enjoyable? Do I need it to be satisfying and enjoyable? What am I looking for? Am I prepared if I find something I’m not looking for? If we ask ourselves questions, in advance or in the moment, we will almost certainly end up with a clearer purpose and ultimately, for our needs, stronger photos.
The very capability of a camera, operated by a human, to capture and preserve a moment of feeling (or a moment of experience) is what allows photography to escape novelty and become an art form. When those aspects are considered, we can realize just how far photography ventures beyond “things” and “subjects” and just how important a human operator is to the process. Considered on a scale, the photographers that I tend to enjoy the most, tend to more frequently emphasize qualities of moment preservation in their images. This very purpose is undoubtedly my favorite purpose for photography. (What might yours be?) Those individuals continually seek out and are drawn through the camera to fleeting moments — fleeting moments they long to enjoy, ponder or consider for the rest of their lives — fleeting moments they long to share with others — and the photos allow them that pleasure. Those photographers aren't content with simply experiencing a moment once or merely sharing it with themselves. How they choose to preserve those moments through their unique vision, allows each photographer to establish their voice — the voice we hear through their images. The act of doing so seems to bring forth a contrast between moments and subjects and ask the question, Am I photographing a thing, or am I photographing a moment?
Is it a Thing? Or is it a Moment?
A mountain will be in the same place every day — the sun will strike it on predictable hours each day . Thousands of visitors will pull up to an easily accessible overlook on clear, sunny days . They will hop out of their cars and make quick, unconsidered snapshots of the iconic sights and of their counterparts for often unconsidered purposes. Many of them will photograph the same predictable things — iconic locations, people standing next to one another, smiling a textbook smile that we see in family photo albums, all with those iconic backdrops behind them. They will then do the same thing 1/2 mile later, at a different overlook for a different scene. To each of those visitors, what purpose or need will those photos fulfill? Are they fulfilling too much of the same purpose, and not enough of any other purpose? Is any thought being given to the moment? Is the photographer doing the moment justice by photographing it that way? Are they simply documenting a thing? Ultimately, is there even a moment taking place (there may not be)? When those very individuals look back upon the photo, what will they feel and remember 20 years later? Will they see nothing more than things in every photo? Will it be the same moment captured 10 times? When they look at the photos, will they wish they had done different things? Will they wish they had more variety or spent more time candidly photographing the laughs shared at the picnic in a less iconic area when the camera was stashed away? Will those photos speak to any of the rest of us or make us feel anything? Do they need to? Does the photographer want them to? Could a robot or fixed automated camera set to go off every couple of minutes at the overlook do exactly what the photographer was doing?
As photographers, we have to ask ourselves questions before and while the camera is in our hands. A person will smile the same way thousands of times in their life. How can we share the moments when that smile graced our lives with people who weren't around to see it? How can we do the smile justice? How can we ensure that 20 years later, a photo of that smile will be felt and not merely seen? How can we make others feel that smile as we did in-person? How can we take a thing such as “a smile” and through a photo render it as “a moment when she smiled in a way that…”? When we look back at our photos of that “smile” 20 years later, and consider the moment it took place, will we believe the smile in the photo? Was it honest? Was it genuine? Again, I ask, could a robot or automated camera do these things?
The photographic artists of moment preservation somehow respond with ideas to all of those questions. They know how to take things and from them, through the camera, unearth feelings and preserve unique moments with an intended purpose. Robots and automated cameras do not have that ability beyond the happy accident circumstance. These photographers may at times seem like a somewhat distant outsider as they float around observing moments going on around them. But, this behavior is not an accident. It is a situational certainty that one cannot truly be the center of a genuine moment, and also the one capturing that moment at the same time. The ability to do this is not something that one either has or doesn't have, but rather it is a skill that is slowly developed through years of awareness, observation and practice.
In Part 2, we will further explore some of these thoughts by directly applying them to ourselves. I will begin Part 2 with a self-analysis of the many ways I've made mistakes as a photographer by not considering the purpose of my photos before and during their creation.
