Dans les champs de l'observation le hasard
ne favorise que les esprits préparés.
(In the fields of observation, chance
favors only the prepared mind*.)
—Louis Pasteur
-
I had one of those days yesterday. Let me describe it and see if you know what I mean.
I've got one hand in my pocket, and the other hand is
taking a picture (with apologies to Alanis Morrisette)
I had an hour to kill while my snow tires were being swapped out for my summer tires at Trombly Tire and Auto. So I brought the A6600 and Sigma 30mm Contemporary along, with my rain hat and a camera bag just in case I got caught in the rain, and I wandered around town for an hour and took a bunch of pictures. And all except one "turned out," as we quaintly used to say. That is, they were sharp, clear, and well exposed.
But I didn't get anything.
I've been through the files four times now on the computer, and I just don't think anything quite rises to the standard of being what some now call a "keeper." Much less printable. ("Printable" is still my standard for a successful photo, in my head, even though I seldom print any more.) They're just random snaps of buildings and sidewalks. Pictures I've essentially already taken dozens of times. Yeah, I know photographs are all technically unique, but you know what Neil Young says, it's all the same song. I took the same pictures last month and last year and I could take the same pictures next month and next year. It's just me out playing my usual tricks. Just snapshots. And I don't mean that in the good sense.
In my somewhat harsh opinion, a lot of photographers on the 2021 internet ought to entertain this as a possibility more often: you just didn't get anything. I see an awful lot of random snaps that sort of resemble photographs that work, but actually aren't. I'd show you what I mean but I've never been comfortable holding real peoples' work up as negative examples; it seems too unkind. They didn't ask for my opinion. And of course, many of the pictures I see are by people who are new, young, inexperienced, or who (yes, let's face it) have the visual aptitude of Helen Keller.
But I'm sure you know what I'm talking about.
One thing I've noticed when this happens to me is that I keep going back to the pictures in the folder and looking through them again. It's like I can't believe I didn't get something. First I'll select one and work on the file a bit, then think, nah, that ain't it. Then I'll go back again and select another prospect and work on that for a little while until realization dawns again: this just didn't quite work. This just doesn't quite make it.
My default attitude appears to be: hey, I worked for an hour, I got all this raw material, there has to be something here.
It's just that sometimes there isn't.
If you didn't get it, you haven't got it. It's not there.
Slagging off?
The other day, after I posted those five test shots in the "Mikey Likes It" post, longtime reader Ernest Zarate wrote, "I really like that puddle photo. It was a terrific coda after a string of pleasant, undemanding snaps of your walk." Shouldn't I consider that comment kind of insulting? He's complimenting one picture but sort of slagging off the others.
I didn't take it the wrong way at all, though, because Ernest got it completely right. "Puddle" was the only good shot I got during that little walkabout, and I already knew it before he commented on it. It was the only scene I "worked"—took multiple shots of while thinking and observing and moving around—exploring it through the viewfinder you might say—and when I got back to the house I was already thinking I hope I got it and wishing I had spent more time working it. Since we're looking at the little man behind the curtain here I'll admit I Photoshopped that one, too. (That might ruin it for you, but we have to be forthright with one another when we're talking about nuts and bolts.)
The rest of the pictures I took on that sortie are just incidental. (Although there's one lake shot I'm still deciding about.)
The magic of photography as I see it and as I practice it is that "sometimes the magic happens." That is, sometimes it comes together and you've got yourself a picture—according to your specific idiosyncratic tastes. I know it's the business of professionals to get good pictures on purpose, pictures others will approve of, of subjects they're assigned, so it's not like my view of photography is the only one. But for me, the whole point of photography is that those mysterious personal hits are out there, and sometimes you're going to find one. Or it will find you, however you want to look at it.
Discipline
Photography requires a certain discipline because you always get something. The camera makes a record of some sort out of everything it's pointed at. This puts the onus on us to successfully ignore all the drek and winnow out the ones that work. But just because we always come back to the barn with "results" doesn't mean we got anything. When we get nothing, we have to have the discipline to know we got nothing, and not try to force it to be "something"! I've probably spend three-quarters of my life as a photographer trying to pretend something works when I know it doesn't. As Cartier-Bresson says in one of his interviews, photography is a no-no-no-no-no-no-no-yes proposition. It's not enough to have the taste to select the yes shots. We also have to have the discipline to not be swayed by all the no shots.
Of course I love it when I get a yes. But truth be told, I'm actually kind of relieved when something is an obvious no as well. It's all those "almosts" that give me fits.
How I know which is which, usually, is that a picture starts to bore me before I'm even finished doing the basic editing on it. When I get a good shot, on the other hand, I can't stop looking at it...I want to revisit it again and again. I'll even come turn on the computer just to see it again. Like listening to a new favorite song over and over.
It's not like I don't know it when I get something good, so why do I try to force things to be good when they just aren't?
To my view—in my chosen style of working—it's all about those ones that work, and how you encourage chance. For me, walking around town making tight little compositions of doorways and architectural details is probably not the best way to get a good picture. But the fact is you never know what you're going to find. You have to get out there with a camera in your hand, get warmed up, get into the flow, and start looking and clicking. It's not going to happen when you're sitting in front of your computer thinking about it.
But getting out and working isn't a guarantee that anything will work, either. You can work all day and get nothing worthwhile; or you can kick the ground with your toe and find gold. You just never know. You have to trust your eyes and trust your gut to know which is which.
The two keys are to know it when you get something, and to know it when you got nothing.
Mike
*One of Ansel Adams's favorite quotes.
Book of Interest this week:
The Education of a Photographer, Edited by Charles H. Traub, Steven Heller, and Adam B. Bell, Allworth Press, 2006, 256 pages. A small but rich gold mine of short essays and interviews by and about photographers. Also available from The Book Depository with free shipping worldwide.
Original contents copyright 2021 by Michael C. Johnston and/or the bylined author. All Rights Reserved. Links in this post may be to our affiliates; sales through affiliate links may benefit this site.
(To see all the comments, click on the "Comments" link below.)
Featured Comments from:
Leon Droby: "On days when I come back from the field knowing I have nothing (and, like today, knew I had nothing even before I left the field), at least I got some practice time in."
Rob White: "I believe it was Ansel Adams that also said he considered it a successful day if he got one good shot out of a hundred."
Mike replies: He also once said 12 (or was it 15?) really good shots was good year's work. I'd like to find the quote....
Jeff: "'Twelve significant photographs in any one year is a good crop.' —Ansel Adams."
Stuart: "Oh where did you get that hat, where did you get that hat? Apologies to Sullivan. No—seriously—where did you get that hat?"
Mike replies: It's an Outdoor Research Seattle Sombrero. Surprisingly effective at keeping rain off of you even when you're not wearing any other rain gear. I use it when I take the dogs out when it's raining or when I meet friends for walks on days that threaten rain. I always feel faintly ridiculous when I wear it but it's actually not that bad looking.
Bahi: "Happens to me often. And, sadly, I often take the easy way out: I treat the best of them as usable."
Stan B.: "I've contemplated this very topic quite often. No, all the sincerity and effort in the world does not guarantee success—at least in the short term (your daily outing). Point in fact, one day last week I walked the entirety of the Las Vegas strip from Fremont St. to the Luxor casino (approximately seven miles). For that effort in 100 degree heat, I got one keeper (at the very, very end). The following day after that exercise in near self immolation, I decided to take a different approach. I went to a café, had two of the most delicious cappuccinos I ever had in the USA, took a (very) short walk, sat down for a Margarita, and on the way back to the hotel walked right into the keeper of the day. Now, I don't have to tell you which is the preferred manner of working for the very same result(s)."
Albert Smith: "One culprit for me is the lack of financial investment/cost to shooting digital. When I shot film, I had to ask if this image (in the finder) was worth 75 cents? This made me more selective and much more inclined to really tweak the composition before pressing the shutter release. It also taught me about exposure because slide film had no 'fix it in post' rescue plan. I went out yesterday and today, and have over three hundred images on my card. I just went through them (before seeing this post), and am shocked how I can see the evolution of a final shot...move left, get higher, reduce exposure, etc., all represented by an actual crappy shot. When I shot film, my goal was to only have that last, fully tweaked and evolved photo.
"I'm glad that I'm not paying for film and processing anymore, but it might improve my photography if I shot like I was."
Thomas Rink: "I think failure shouldn't be dismissed too easily. Sure, it feels better if you've made some successful pictures—but if you are able to recognize failures, this also means that you know what works for you. As a seasoned photographer and artist, you take this for granted. But apparently this is something that many are missing, or feel insecure about. This is judging from the vast amount of books, forums and videos which aim to teach what a 'good picture' is and how to make one. Better times ahead!"
Luke: "I recently 'got one,' the best in a long time. I saw it, I 'worked' it, I knew it. I printed it big. Half the satisfaction for me is just confirmation that the process still works: I can see it, and work it, and get it. And happily delete most of the rest."
robert e (partial comment): "Perhaps the photography lesson that took longest to sink in for me was to stop trying to re-take the photo after the fact, in post. You got it or you didn't, as you say. A hard lesson, but so liberating when it does sink in!"