I went to Yossi Milo for an opening a couple Thursdays ago and found some of the most visually stunning photographs I had ever seen. Not to exaggerate, especially since I don't think that many people would be thus moved by such images, but these photographs reflected what I've been wanting to say to its utmost. It reflected what I was most passionate about to photograph. I was amazed by the photos, not in the way another photographer would inspire me as much as I felt that somebody had taken my ideas and had already gotten famous with them. The point is not so much that it was even possible for my ideas to become famous, but rather that every time I have a novel idea, I see it performed already the next day. I had never seen this photographer's work, nor had I even heard of the photographer himself, but I had taken an almost identical image of people at Coney Island to his of people at another beach elsewhere around the globe. I have to say, he got there first, but it was definitely where I wanted to go. It's like he was the first to get to Mars. Should I still have a go?
What happens when you come to this "dead-end?" What happens when you find out that someone got there first? Do you still keep going with what you have? Do you stop and look for something new? Do you respond? If so, to who? To ALL of the artists you've ever seen? Is there an original I can create anymore? I almost feel cheated. Now I'm stuck, almost scared to create any more.
Everybody is always striving for the next big thing, desperately trying to reach for any last drop of originality that remains out there, calling for that muse who would give him the prodigious voice. I was talking to Charley about this earlier, and he suggests that we should just keep doing what we're doing and do it how we do it. He gives the example of how so many bands sound so much alike but we still like them for different reasons. I can see how photography can be very much like this, but to what extent does one thing get old? What is the fine line that defines redundancy, tedium and boredom? "Oh, that's been done before...who are you trying to be?... etc."
Peter says that it's all been done; there's nothing for us left. So what do I make now? Why create work that imitates the masters when we can just appreciate what they have created, given to us?
True, we are all of the same world, planet, species. We are all experiencing the same type of life in the same dimension. We are all beholden to those big categories up there. Jung was right to the extent that we are all somewhat part of a collective unconscious; it's only inevitable that we create or recreate the same thing, the same ideas, especially now when we have become even more unified with the continually faster-developing and the even quicker-advancing technology. I guess when we all live on Pangea 2008 on the train called Web 2.0, we are all bound to pick up the same knowledge and intellectual thoughts. And yes, we live or have lived in the postmodern ear. So what's new?
Comments (1)
So at the risk of being depressing I'm going to say that what your talking about is not new or original, it's a fact of life that artists will come to the same or similar conclusions. We share a culture, education, tools, and influences. Much of being a photographer is to be an astute observer of the times you live in, overlaps are inevitable.
In the course of my career I've encountered this situation many times and I have different reactions to it. Sometimes I'm angry, temporarily, because someone has done something simple that I feel is a watered down version of what I've been working on. That's annoying, but honestly, bad work just always kinda pisses me off.
When the work is better than what I've done then I can truthfully say that I'm kinda kinda happy for the other guy (and photography), and then I can acknowledge that the world is a big place and accommodates many point of view.
But what's really the point? Why do we do the work? Is it to become famous? Paris Hilton and Charles Manson are famous.
I do a far number of stories about athletes; I've also worked with a lot of dancers. It's an interesting parallel. They want fame, acknowledgement, etc., but their careers are short. I often have an interesting perspective on their careers because I see them when they are young and climbing, at their peak, and later, when they are retired, and often forgotten.
Some handle it very well, some badly.
The ones who handle it well all have one thing in common; they loved the work more than they loved fame. They certainly enjoyed the moment of glory that you got to see on TV, but they also enjoyed the 6 hours a day they spent in the gym or the dance studio.
How many people get to dance everyday? How many get to ski at 90 mph for a living?
Artists who love the work learn everyday and have long careers. Artists who only want recognition face one of two inevitabilities, either they achieve it (then lose it) or don't achieve it. Either scenario has bitter resentment at the end. Nothing poisons the creative well more effectively than bitterness.
In your own work, what have you accomplished? A good grade? Who cares? The respect of your peers? That might be more important, but still not a cure for cancer.
I think that for all of us the real accomplishment might be something simpler. We get to walk around in the world with our eyes open, we get to learn what the world will teach us. The act of making photographs is simplicity itself, but the reward is not always present in the final print. However, it is always present in the attentiveness and awareness of the photographic act.
I has all been done before, but not the way you will do it. There might not be anything new, but there is the idiosyncratic.
In point of fact I think that you all might comprise the most interesting generation of photographers in the history of the medium. The web and digital technology has “flattened” the medium, this might seem depressing at this moment in time, just as the invention of the Leica and the simple hand camera probably seemed depressing to traditional practitioners back in the 1930’s.
The hand camera invented the “decisive moment” that has long been the hallmark of photography. You all get to reinvent photography. Now that’s a nice big challenge to sink your teeth into. Kinda cool, I’m a little envious, but then I remember when color wasn’t acceptable, that was a challenge for a different generation.
“The point of the game is to know, love, and serve sight, and the basic strategic problem is to find a new kind of clarity within the prickly thickets of unordered sensation.”
John Szarkowski on Lee Friedlander
Posted by Mark Jenkinson | April 25, 2008 11:40 AM
Posted on April 25, 2008 11:40