Jul 292010

Original.

Overrated.

Obstacles in our paths.  That’s what both of these words represent to me.

One is the quest for making your own mark in the world.  The thing that sets you apart.  The idea or vision that every artist truly attempts even if they search for it in the works of the masters of the past.  This can take more than a lifetime.

One is the idea that once we “make it” someone, somewhere, has the ability to completely denounce our hard work and possibly end our career (even before it’s really began).  The art world is brutal and fickle.  It can be maddening to entrench yourself in this arena and even more maddening to find yourself a spectacle instead of a gladiator.

Over it.  That’s how I have to be when these thoughts creep into me.  I have to strive past the idea that true originality is unattainable.  I have to suppress the fear that someone out there, without any control of my own, can “make or break” my career.

Own it.  I own it.  I own my art.  I own my path.  I own my career.

One of the toughest, yet freeing, moves that I’ve had to make internally, as an artist, is moving from creating a product to creating art for purpose.

As a portrait and wedding photographer I would have a vision, often worked out between myself and the client, and everything creative would be done in an effort to bring to life that vision.  Most of the time I was very successful in guiding the craft.  But there were many times where I would produce wonderful photographs that went outside said vision and the clients would sometimes buy those and sometimes wouldn’t.

I took it too personally I think.

It’s always been a flaw of mine when it comes to my artwork.

I think that’s why I HAD to get away from doing portraits and weddings.  It was too personal for me.

Okay, there are other reasons why I got away from working for clients.  My back problems make me unreliable and the thought of having to call a potential client and tell her that I can’t shoot her wedding in a couple of days because my back went out would kill me.  It never happened, but the possibility was always there and it lingered in my mind every time I would wake up sore or stiff or in so much pain that I’m seeing spots.

Back problems aside, I think I would have become miserable if I had continued down that path.

I crave the process much more than the product.

I’m not a map follower by nature.  Not when it comes to nurturing my creative instincts.  Having a plan, a goal, a vision doesn’t make me a better artist.  It made me a better portrait photographer, and a better business person, but not a better artist.

When I work on photography for process I have freedom.  I can go anywhere.  The possibilities are endless.

I can follow whatever instincts and insights that hit me.

I can listen to my internal voices and let the magic capture me.

I think there’s a basic human nature to explore and to experiment.  To find the unknown.

When I look at my kiddos I marvel at how free they are in the works they create.  They have no barriers.  There are no parameters that they have to work within.

Right now they are playing at my mother’s house getting all dirty and creative with sidewalk chalk.  It’s a fantastic world they live in where the sky is truly the limit.

As children we’re taught so much.  How to read.  How to write.  How to behave in society.  How to study.  How to learn.

So much structure.

While structure is good for learning how to behave in society, it does so much harm to our inherent creativity.

I think that’s why so many people who have “returned to art” struggle with the process.  They look at is a structured path or look for some road map to follow.

The road maps are good for the business side, but for me, at least, I have to ignore the structure and toss out the map.

I need to feel like I have the freedom to create artwork that is without boundaries (unless I specify them as exercise).

I’m insanely jealous of my beautiful children.  They inspire me to be more free with my work.  And aside from their unfiltered and boundless love, that inspiration is the greatest gift they could give me.

One of the most compelling things about photography, as an art form, is that photographers are limited to the single image.  A single moment of time captured, hopefully aesthetically, by a person who’s vision and clarity provide a window into a still moment in time.

As a painter I had the ability to create any atmosphere I wanted with whatever tools and techniques were at my disposal.

That’s taken away from photographers when you think of the photograph in it’s purest form.

This isn’t to say that “pure photography” is the end all be all.  I do enjoy looking at digitally manipulated, as well as dark room manipulated, works from stellar artists.

I’m not a photojournalist.

But I think it’s the challenge of working within those limitations that draws me to photography as an art form.  Perhaps that’s why I’ve moved away from pixel punishing in the past few years.

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