Slow Photography #48 Hope Conquers Curses: A Photographer's Albatross

Do you ever look back at your old photographs ?

  I looked over some portraits that I took ten years ago; they are terrible. I wonder, “Who took these.” At times the flash is over-powered. The skin tones in some are off ( I will spare you from looking at them here). 

   My old photos seem noisy. Some are not truly sharp. I tell myself that I have better gear now with a better signal to noise ratio, but this is an excuse. No high-tech camera has ever helped a photographer have something to say. It seemed clear: I will never photograph anything today that looks as good as it should to me tomorrow. 

   
   There's another thing about the old photos. I was directing the subjects a lot more. This gave me a false sense of control. In more recent images, I am letting go of control. Better images come when I let the subject generate the photograph. I can hang back, and wait for a subject to complete the mood.

  

   Why is waiting important? Because well-crafted photographic ideas do not pop up like whack-a-moles. They are the product of hard work. This is essential in Slow Photography.

   Reviewing my old shots also leaves me with a strange feeling. It is a sense of being cursed, like the curse of the albatross. A sailor shot an albatross, and was cursed, in an old poem about the ancient mariner.* The ship's captain hung the bird around the sailor's neck. In my workshops, I encourage students to avoid cameras that feel like an albatross around their neck.

 

   One effective way to cut loose the photographers albatross is to be hopeful. There is always hope. As the photographer Imogen Cunningham said, “my favorite photograph is the one I am going to take tomorrow.” ­Hope is not a given, it takes practice. Like setting up a tripod, our mental attitude toward what we create gives us stability, and sharpens our perception.

  OK, so how is this done? First, through observation; I tell myself "I will see something amazing." Finally, by letting go of expectation, and by staring hard and long, to see what is there. Practice this, and hope will conquer your doubts about photographing. 

*The Rime of the Ancient Mariner. Samuel Taylor Coleridge