At some point this stopped being fun. Not just this blog, but the entire photographic process.

Before I go any further, think about that first sentence for a minute. A hobby that became turned into passion isn’t fun anymore. It had gotten tedious and trying. Like any relationship that grows stagnant, it was time to let it go. I abandoned my 365 for the tenth time, I stopped posting at the blog, and I stopped leaving comments for my contacts at Flickr.  Every article I read about photography was about being creative and being inspired and all that crap.  The same tired arguments day after day after day.

I think we all inspire to take the best photos that we can.  We read up on techniques.  We buy better gear.  And, hopefully, we become better photographers.

But if you’re not having fun, what’s the fucking point?

My fellow bloggers and I are a critical bunch.  Hell, two of us are attorneys if that helps explain things.  We frequently email each other stuff we see good or bad, and lambast stuff we dislike.  For example, some of us hate the photos on Flickr of people with face paint.  At times I find it boring, ego driven, and cliche.

But you know what?  That person slapping that crap on their face is having fun.  They’re having fun taking the time to paint their face, and having fun taking the photo. They’re not all hung up on whether the photo has any creative merit or a if it makes a statement in the world.  It’s fun to them.

My point is being creative, learning new skills, taking time to compose, etc. is fine.  Do that.  It makes the difference between a hobbyist and someone whose whole heart is in it.

But if you’re not having fun then shake it up.  Stop reading duChemin, Arias, Hobby and all others who espouse articles on a daily basis about the Muses of Creativity.  Stop worrying whether your strobe is properly set up.  Stop worrying whether hacks on Flickr will comment on your photos.  And stop worrying whether what you post is your best stuff.

Think back of when you first picked up that camera.  Go look at those photos.  I bet they suck monkey balls. But I guarantee you had a blast taking them.  Remember that feeling? That feeling before all the technical know-how and the Gear Acquisition Syndrome took precedence over having fun.

Let all the extraneous bullshit go. And for once, have fun again.

As a photographer, you are not an artist. As a photographer, you are merely documenting life and other peoples works of art. As a photographer, you do not create art, you do not create anything, you simply take pictures of what others have created, including God’s creations. Photographers, you are not artists because you do not create. It’s best to think of yourselves more of a historian, just documenting what has already been done.

I’d like you to stop here, go back, read that paragraph above one more time, this time think about it as you read each sentence. Go ahead, I’ll wait… Now, let me break it down for you, see if I can make the insult clear.

The act of photographing something is not the act of creating something. Thus, it is not art!

How does that sentence above sit with you? You’re all photographers, tell me, what does it say about you and all that you’ve tried to do with your camera? Sure, some of you may not consider yourselves artists, but I’ll bet that some of you do. Some of you even like to think of photography as art, I mean don’t they have galleries and hang big impressive looking photographs in museums?

Why don’t we take another look at this. I’ll give you a few examples.

Example 1

Let’s imagine for a second a true artist. A man, he takes three people, three bodies and poses them into position. Then, said artist uses paint and brushes to decorate these three bodies, he spends time toiling over the details, uses fine brush strokes. He transforms the once three bodies into, umm, let’s say a Walrus. When finished, the three bodies, after hours of work, represent a Walrus. Yup, look just like the real thing. Three people all posed and painted, now look like a real life Walrus. This man, no… this artist, has created something. He has taken things and created something from them.

Once all is said and done, lights are set up, a backdrop put in place, a camera comes out, and a picture is taken. This picture is not the art, it’s just a way to document the event, the creation of real art. The picture itself is not the art, it isn’t considered the art.

Example 2

Let’s think of another scenario, this time let’s imagine an architect. This architect spends a year designing a building. He spends hours going over equations, figuring out the materials needed to build his structure. Once the design is complete a team of people get together, gather the required stone and metals. It takes years to build the designed building (or monument) until it is finally complete, done for the world to see, to occupy, to use. It’s a beautiful building, and in time a national treasure, a true work of art.

A photographer comes along set’s up some lights, waits for the right time of day, the perfect sky. He sits there for hours waiting for the right moment until the time comes to click the shutter button. Finally, CLICK! The images is edited, printed, and then sold to thousands of people. This photographer didn’t design the building, he didn’t build it, he didn’t create the sky, all he did was take a picture of it.

Example 3

A well known photographer sits on a hill overlooking a beautiful pasture. A stream quietly rolls along in the foreground while a majestic lake sits in front of towering, snow peaked mountains. Tall, green trees surround the scene, wrapping it in beauty beyond words. The sun is low in the sky creating a golden glow to the landscape and the clouds lay out across deep blue sky like a blanket.

After hours of waiting for the scene to unfold, for the light to be perfect, the photographer makes a few final adjustments to her camera. Finally, after scoping out the location for weeks, waiting for the right weather conditions, after carrying her monster large format camera to the spot… finally, she presses the shutter release. CLICK!

Later, she develops the negative, she makes a print. She reprints the image over and over, dodging and burning here and there to create the perfectly exposed image, she is satisfied. She has a print she is proud of, she shares it with the world, it’s printed in a book, the book is sold to thousands of people, she wins an award.

All the while, some will say that she isn’t an artist. She didn’t create the scene, some will say God created it, some will say it was a product of evolution, no matter… she just documented a place in time.

Have I said enough? Do you get where I am going?

Photographers Are Not Artists

All the above stems from an actual conversation I had with another photographer last week. He argued, yes a photographer argued, that as photographers we do not create art. We just take pictures of it.

Here’s where I call bullshit! Photography is art. Sure, not all of it, not every picture taken could be considered art. In fact I’d even go as far as to say that 99.9% of the pictures taken are not art, but some of it is. There are thousands of photos uploaded to Flickr in a minute, and thousands more being taken at this exact second. Think of it, all around the world there are thousands of pictures being taken at this exact moment. While most are not what some would call “art”, there are surly masterpieces out there. True works of art.

Rather than go into my thoughts on the subject I’ll leave it up to you. There’s a comment box below, let us know what you think. Is photography art?

Photography. Why did you start taking photos? What do you hope to get from the act of being a “photographer”?

The first question is easy to answer for most of us. You may have bought a camera to capture your child’s first step. It could have been because you needed to grab some extra credits in college and though photography would be an easy kick to your GPA. Maybe you picked up a National Geographic as a child and were drawn in by the pictures?

The second question is often a lot harder to answer, as some of you may not even consider yourself a photographer.  Chances are if you’re reading this article, you’ve visited this site before, you own a camera and take a lot of pictures. In that case, label or not, you’re a photographer. So what is it that you hope to gain? Do you want fame, money, a chance to leave your mark on the world? Could it be that you just want to take pictures of those special moments and have them to look back on, to show to your children and grandchildren?

Every time I look up there is someone making the jump from hobbyist to professional. People are buying canned photography websites, printing business cards, and trying to make that leap, trying to make money off their hobby. I admit, I’ve done it. I’ve done the website thing, printed business cards, done a few sessions for people in my neighborhood. It’s gone nowhere. The reason, well, I think it’s because it all feels fake, it feels forced and it isn’t who I am.

Who doesn’t want to turn their hobby into a full time gig? Who doesn’t want to make money doing the thing that they love?

In a perfect world we’d all be doing what we love, living happily off the benefits of our labor. In the real world life is hard, money can be tough to come by and we all need to make ends meet. The truth is, the photography business is over saturated with both good and bad photographers. I’ve seen the joy in the face of a person when I give them a print or they see their images on the screen for the first time. It’s gratifying to know that as photographers we can bring so much joy to someone, give them something to look at and remember the good times, the weddings, the childhoods, families all smiling into the camera.

I don’t pursue it professionally because I don’t think I’m good enough. I don’t think I can deliver what a client wants, as it isn’t my style to go out and force a photo. I’m just not comfortable doing it. Event photography isn’t my thing and I know for a fact that there are people out there better suited for it. I’ve done it, and still do from time to time to breach the “comfort zone”, but the more I try it the less I like it. I know my limits, know what I can and can’t do well, and try to accept that.

If people want a great wedding photographer, or an awesome kid photographer, I can recommend some of the best I’ve ever met. Local people that do a fantastic job. If something interesting falls in my lap however, I jump on it.

This weekend I’m actually shooting a wedding. I shot one other wedding, for a friend, over twelve years ago but nothing I’ve done since. Looking back at everything I just said I may sound like a hypocrite but there is a reason why I’m shooting this, a reason I jumped on it. The people getting married want something different, they don’t want the cookie cutter wedding photos, they don’t care for formal pictures or crystal clear images. They want film, angles, blur… they want something I believe I can deliver. The reason I jumped on this opportunity is because it allows me to approach the event how I approach anything else, I can take my time and capture the night the way I capture everything else. I plan on mixing it up, using both film and digital. I even plan on busting out the Holga and shooting a few rolls of distorted out of focus goodness.

Let’s put aside the money and art nonsense for a minute…

I wanted to talk about something else before I end this, I wanted to mention free photography. Some people frown on offering photography for free. The “professionals” will say that you are eating up their profits or taking money out of their pockets. I say, “Bull Shit!” When I attended the OneLight workshop, Zack Arias wisely said that there are photographers at all levels and clients in each level. There are the $100 weddings to the $20,000 weddings, and the same is true in any form of photography. If you can book a client at $25 then it’s money in your pocket, and less likely that the client would have paid any more for it, because either they can’t afford it or because why pass on a $25 price tag.

The same rings true what it comes to $0. If you can shoot something you want to shoot, something that you enjoy and think you can benefit from, and afford to do it for nothing… then it’s worth it. It’s especially worth it if we are talking something for charity, something to give back to your community. The best experience I’ve had yet as a photographer was doing Help Portrait last year. I took a day, went out with a team of local people and shot portraits in a homeless shelter and a woman’s shelter. You’ll never see those photos, not a single one. We shot the images, printed them on-site, handed them to the person or family, then deleted the images off our computers.

It wasn’t about the money, it wasn’t about building a portfolio, it wasn’t even about getting pictures to post on Flickr for comments. It was about the people we were taking pictures of. It was about seeing their faces when you gave them a photo, some whom have never had a portrait of themselves, or their children, ever. I can’t wait to do it again this year, you should do it too!

So, what’s my point?

The point is I needed to write an article. The point is these are the things that have been on my mind. I’ve been thinking a lot about my photography, what it means to me, what I want to get out of it. I’ve been watching people try to make that leap into the realm of “professional/semi-professional” money making photographer. I’ve tried it briefly, I’ve decided it isn’t for me.

The point is, do what you love! It doesn’t matter if it’s for money or for fun. It doesn’t matter if it’s self portraits, kittens and bokeh. It doesn’t matter if you love shooting flowers, bugs, weddings, children, or models. It doesn’t matter if you are shooting with film or digital. It doesn’t matter if you shoot a Nikon, a Canon, a Hasselblad, your iPhone, or even a one time use Micky Mouse disposable camera.

What matters is that you are photographing what you love and doing it in a way that makes you happy. What matters is YOU!

Over the past month or so I just had not been feeling it.  Work was piling up, other interests were interceding, and the camera, aw that damned camera, was becoming a liability.  And having been on Flickr for nearly 2 1/2 years, I was growing tired of seeing the same old crap:  face paint, uninteresting ideas, jump shots, selective color, the list is endless. Even this blog was pissing me off, as it was eating up too much time trying to think up something I felt someone would read and comment on.

So I did what I had not done in all the time I’ve had a DSLR.  I put it in the bag and ignored it.

Think about that for a moment.  After 2 1/2 years of shooting nearly every day, I stopped.  And damn it, it felt great.

And being the reflective one, I sat back and reassessed what I wanted with my photography.

I’ve realized that not every pic has to be perfect, that I don’t have to go back and forth wondering what to upload, and that every pic doesn’t need a strobe.  I think I’d forgotten what originally drew me to photography.

It wasn’t trying to impress you, to make Explore, get 50 comments, or process the hell out of something to try and make shit look like solid gold.  No, it was the emotions that a photo can capture and convey.

Let me interject there that Flickr, while being a great means of letting others see your work and vice versa, constructs a certain amount of peer pressure via its system of commenting that turns reciprocal and even certain styles that become prevalent for a time.

I actually thought about that a lot while I was in New Orleans over a week ago.  I realized that when I got back home and uploaded the pics that they wouldn’t receive the type of response a strobed SP would.  In fact, the strobes stayed in the bags 90% of the time. I realized that these pics had to be for me for once.  And so they were.

Most of what I got in New Orleans are nothing more than snap shots capturing a time and a place.  In fact, a lot of what I’ve posted isn’t that great.  The composition is off, the focus is wack, and the night shots are filled with digital noise.  And I could care less.  Because when I look at them I remember laughing my ass off with some people I consider not just good friends, but great friends, I remember walking through a city that five years ago I figured was pretty much done for only to arise from a watery grave, and I recall finally that the camera I’m holding isn’t always going to capture the perfect image.  In fact, I doubt it ever will. And you know, I’m fine with that.

Shortly after I arrived in Los Angeles, I got in my little purple car and started driving around this behemoth of a city.  On the afternoon I’m recalling, I didn’t have time enough to head down to the beach, nor to go to the really vibrant East LA neighborhoods that I scouted the week before. But there’s a little stretch on Fairfax that is “Little Ethiopia” — colorful, good eats, and not terribly far from my place.  So I headed that way.

I got out and started to shoot — but I felt really uncomfortable.  Which was how I felt each time I’ve tried to shoot on the street in LA.  I felt voyeuristic.  And the presence of that feeling was most unwelcome — I had gotten over that in my street stuff a long time ago.  Suddenly, I felt like an outsider and an imposter.  To escape that feeling, I ducked into a thrift store and started framing shots in the cramped confines in an effort to spark my creativity.  After nabbing a few interesting shots, I was felt like the whole outing wasn’t a complete bust.  So I decided to get some dinner.  For ten bucks, I was treated to an amazing plate of Ethiopian stews. While waiting for my food, I talked to the waitress and her father.   During dinner,  I made funny faces at a baby and smiled with her grandmother.  But the whole time, I was vaguely preoccupied with worrying about why I wasn’t able to shoot.

But when I went back outside after the meal, all of a sudden I could.  By then, it was dark and then lens I had with me was too slow to get much of anything.  But this time, I could see the shots and try to take them.  That was enough improvement for me to know that something substantial had shifted.

But what?

I think the crucial factor is that I had connected to the community.  I supported a local business – I talked to the people there.  I involved myself.  I had given a little and so I was able to receive a little.  Shooting otherwise feels like stealing. I needed to earn the right to see a place as it really is.

The more I thought about this concept of connectedness – the more sense it made.  I recognized that I’ve had this experience before.  For example, while road-tipping last summer, I rolled through all these incredible small towns, but I’d rarely be able to shoot street candids worth a damn.  That all changed when I arrived in a tiny northern Montana town.  There, I talked to local artists about their work, chocked down a (potentially-toxic) meal at the local diner, laughed with teenagers in a tee-pee shaped coffee house, and stayed in a family-run B&B.  I had no problem at all shooting street scenes in that town.

This happens a lot when I travel.  No matter the destination, no matter the scenery, I can’t just land and shoot.  I’ve got to connect. Build a relationship.

Later that evening some kids (who were likely up to no good) spied my DSLR and started shouting: Girl, you a photographer?  I said yes and agreed to take their picture when asked.  They went from being vaguely threatening delinquents staring at my new car to being giddy kids who were really excited to have a “real photographer” take their photo.  Sadly, the photos came out like crap.  It was SO dark and they wouldn’t stand still! Not the point, though.  The kids liked them.

And as for me:  Well, I got in my car — feeling more connected to my new environment — and hungry to find ways to deepen that connection.  I started to wonder, what good comes of a few crappy photos taken on the fly?  And why am I really doing any of this candid street shooting?  I realized that what I wanted to do was buy those kids some fast food, talk to them about their lives and then shoot with them.  I want to start photo essaying, too.  But to really do that I’ve got to 1) get involved with the community  2) establish a connection and 3) earn trust.  I realized that I’ve been putting the cart before the horse: looking for the photos before making the connection.

I’m going to challenge myself to change my approach.  I want to identify a group that I am interested in or cause I care about but haven’t had the time for.  I plan to primarily participate and connect. I will hope that an idea for a photo or a series presents itself.  Then — and only then — will I inquire about shooting, with the intention of giving back to my subjects by documenting their stories.

Now, do tell, what do you do to connect with your subjects? (on the street or off!)

Note:  Photos in this post were not taken on the night in question.
These simply represent subsequent outings during which I felt I implemented this lesson.