When Beauty is Not Enough

"Where in the world would you most like to photograph?" The question came up over dinner at a recent workshop. As others answered around the table, I searched my mind for a destination and found nothing. The blank reaction felt significant at the time, though I couldn't say why. Reflecting on it now, it makes perfect sense.

For the past 11 years, I haven’t photographed outside of New York State. One reason is I believe my best images come from places with which I am most familiar. Over time, I learn to see more deeply and make photographs that go beyond superficial impressions. More importantly, however, I establish a connection with the place. Simply stated, I become emotionally invested. As it turns out, that relationship is necessary for me to thoughtfully and meaningfully engage in photography. I have learned that a place has to mean something to me; beauty alone is not enough. To quote André Kertész, “Seeing is not enough; you have to feel what you photograph.” If I visited Iceland, I know I’d find it stunning. I may even be moved by that beauty, but I wouldn’t feel compelled to photograph it. Iceland and I would be strangers. It’s not a question of whether I could make a beautiful photograph—it's that I feel no pull to try.

It hasn't always been this way. I remember the first time I visited the Canadian Rockies and the desert Southwest, both early in my photography “career.” In each case, I was enthralled by the beauty and desperately wanted to photograph it from the moment I arrived. Unfortunately, circumstances didn't allow for it. I returned in relatively short order with camera in hand and an overly anxious desire to “capture” the beauty on display. Over the ensuing years, I visited national parks and other beautiful locations for the sole purpose of photography. I treasure those experiences, but not the photographs I made.

I once read that Paul Strand would live in a place for a year before making photos; such was his desire and need to establish a connection with the place and people who lived there. Admittedly, his approach is extreme, but it speaks to the need to feel emotionally connected to a place before photography can happen. Contrast his approach with that of a workshop. I have never taken a workshop, at least not one where we visited a previously unknown location. I don't think I would function very well under the circumstances. Putting aside that the primary purpose of a workshop is to learn rather than acquire new images, the lack of familiarity and connection (not to mention the distraction of others) would conspire against me. I am impressed by those who are willing and able to make creative images under such conditions. I find it humbling.

My photography is a visual record of my relationship with a place, one that can only be established over a prolonged period. The need to be intimately familiar with and emotionally attached to a place speaks to a specific approach, one that translates into an aesthetic quality that would otherwise be lacking. Moreover, I believe passion for a place results in more authentic photos that rely less on random circumstances. 

I believe my role as an artist is to act as a visionary, to show others a world they wouldn’t otherwise see or notice. Much of that involves seeing and experiencing the familiar in an unfamiliar way. Through repeated visits, a place reveals its true essence and character. Yes, some of it is about experiencing it under a variety of conditions. Different seasons, times of day, and weather all create opportunities. But even if the conditions are static, new opportunities present themselves, provided I am open and receptive. My best and most rewarding photographs come from the places which I love the most.

Thank you for subscribing to my blog. If you know of others who may enjoy it, please consider sharing it with them.