Finding Our Creative Voice

One of the issues that I often find with those who are trying to find their own creative voice is the inherent need—or maybe desire—to please others. I don’t think anyone is totally immune to this, especially at the beginning of their creative journey, although some may have different ways of dealing with it than just complying.

Now, possibly, I should have made this into one of my “A Photographer to Know” threads as I certainly hope you will take the opportunity to view the work of the artist who inspired me to write about this topic . But I felt that there was a more important issue that she addressed in a lecture I found of hers and will present below with a strong urge that you take the hour or so to listen to—LISTEN being the most important thing even if the work doesn’t strike you. But let me digress a moment.

It was a couple of weekends ago that my wife and I visited Houston and, as we normally do, visited several different art museums. There were several stunning exhibits to be seen. Many of these were photographic but those certainly were not all that we visited. I often find inspiration in other art forms and how what has been done there—even seemingly insignificant things—might help clarify or move my work forward. Even revisiting the same work is never the same, hopefully, as I have grown since my last encounter and will be able to see/experience new things—of course, this can be incremental and nearly missed or much more concrete and enlightening in some cases.

One of those shows we saw (for the first time) was on the Painter/Photographer Marilyn Minter entitled: “Marilyn Minter: Pretty/Dirty” at the Museum of Contemporary Art. The first video found in this link will give a good overview of the work and what issues it deals with.

Most of the work was very large and it was nearly impossible to distinguish the photographs from the paintings unless you got very close to them as they were so incredibly detailed–and yet often largely out-of-focus or blurred. This was particularly incredible to me, a non-painter, as to how she could create so many “layers” of imagery that were of varying detail and color—something very easy with photography. The work might not be everyone’s thing but I think it shows how photography can be pushed in many directions (she creates many of her paintings from photo montages put together in Photoshop but they keep an organic feel to them).

I entered the exhibit with a sense of reservation from the appearance of some initial work. While I try to be open, I admit that I have my biases and what I was seeing was hitting against some of those in the wrong way. Fortunately, I am aware of these things and recognize them as “my issues” immediately, which then allows me to bypass them in ways I may not have been able in years past. By the time we finished—which included several complete viewings of the entire show, I was left in awe of what she had done.

This result alone would have been enough impetus for a “Photographer to Know” thread but my interest in learning more allowed me to find a wonderful video lecture she had given to some graduate art students. Now, while I want you to know about her work and what she has done, there were so many wonderful things said and put on the table about art and the pursuit of our own voice there that I felt that the importance of hearing those rose above my interest in your knowing just her work—which you will be exposed to in the video.

Warning: Before you jump into the video below or maybe even visit Marilyn’s website (the links above are not an issue), understand that while most of her work is very sensual and not overtly sexual, there is a series of what she even refers to as her “pornographic” images—they are paintings. It is very short in reference to the overall video content. So linking to the video below may not be safe for viewing at work or may not be something you want to experience. I can’t make that judgment for you but I do think the video has some very important perspectives on the creative process and the struggles to find our own voice.

In my last post here, “My Photograph Sucks!” I had linked to this lecture as another source of the idea that a successful image is not something that just happens with every click of the shutter or painting stroke, but is the result of many other tries that don’t work out as well, those things that were essentially our sketches or steps to a successful image—we generally only see an artist’s best work.

But maybe the overall value in this video is that it is one of the best I have ever seen that chronicles so many of the issues that can prevent us from actually finding our own true voice as artists. She addresses so many of the blocks and obstacles to actually finding and then pursuing OUR voice and where and how that can open even more avenues beyond our current view of things.

Regardless of what you feel about her work the important message there is just to be willing to do those things you feel you want and need to do without regard to what others think or how others respond. We need to find OUR voice, not the group voice. Whether you like her work or not, she is doing what she wants which has resulted in high-end museum and gallery shows, high-profile fashion and celebrity photo shoots because her work is so unique–much the same as with Sarah Moon–not because she is doing the expected. She found HER voice!

Here is the link to the lecture:

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My Photograph Sucks!

I started this post almost 3 months ago and just wasn’t finding a clarity in the issue that I wanted to express here. While related to the former “Success Rate: an Irrelevant Measurement” , I think there is a different, but important principle here than the main focus in that post. A few recent experiences/exposures to similar views as my intent here helped me to clear my block in presenting this topic.

You see, I get bored easily, especially when I feel that there isn’t much more to learn. In fact, I don’t know why I have even stuck with photography for almost 40 years now except that I have the wonderful habit of always finding a way to make a bad photograph. I don’t purposely do this; it just seems to happen—and not all that infrequently really. The thing is that I love it and I really do think it’s what has kept me interested in photography.

When we first get going with photography, we just want to make something approaching a “good” photograph. This is generally defined as something others (most others) will look at and appreciate—our families often appreciate anything we do–bless them!

As we move forward, most of us will get to the point where we can make “good” photographs pretty regularly—whatever “good” means to us. This is the point where we can actually go back and refer to some of the points in that former post on “Success Rate”. If we only create images we know others will like and/or we know will be successful, we’ll probably create bushels of such images, although there will always be that occasional stinker along the way. We can end up printing and/or posting hundreds—maybe thousands—of images as everything we do is, in fact, “good”.

For many, this is exactly what their photographic endeavor is all about, making good photographs of their various experiences and to share with others. But, and this is the larger point of this post, there are many who get to the point where “good” no longer is all that important. What is most important are those images that move beyond good and which express our ideas or intent most succinctly. Even Ansel Adams, who was a full time photographer for most of his life, suggested that “Twelve significant photographs in any one year is a good crop.”

I recently came across a short video on YouTube which used the words of Ira Glass excerpted from another 4-part YouTube video he did on Storytelling, which is what he does so well. I recommend looking up the entire series but in this excerpt, he talks about the process we go through as we develop in our creative endeavors:

As he suggests, how the work we create as we begin our journey will often fall short of what we “know” we are capable of creating. We know we have good taste and yet we just haven’t yet learned how to capture, or express, that within our chosen creative endeavor. Later on in the full series, he also relates how even working with a team of creatives, after ferreting out the best ideas, that when they go to put those ideas into a tangible product, things often just fall short even with those best ideas. On the other hand, maybe magic happens when working on something that seems lesser or less likely to succeed. If we are working for others or under a deadline, we might have to pick and choose what might be the most likely to succeed. But when it comes to personal work, we can choose any idea and pursue it. We often learn much more from our failures than we do from our successes—in a larger context, we often learn more from just the journey than from achieving the goal.

And hidden in this is the reason I don’t mind that “my photograph sucks!” You see, I don’t go out trying to make a bad photograph—and I do know that I am fully capable of making a “good” photograph—but what I do is to photograph what interests me and/or seems significant in some way. Often, this means trying to solve visual problems and express ideas that I have not confronted before. Sometimes, it might be something I have attempted many times before and still haven’t created one that works. Even when I do solve a problem effectively, I might not still think it worthy of showing anyone, there are still things to figure out or maybe it is just alright. In fact, even when I create an image I love, it really is still just a stepping-stone to some photograph I will create in the future—a sketch if you will.

In fact, maybe the most important point here is that we should be looking at our work, even our best, as sketches for future work and solutions. This hit home for me recently about how our photographs, every one of them, can seem so “final” as we view them on the large screen of our computers and yet aren’t they really just the precursor of our next photograph—a sketch in that sense?

I had recently watched a movie about a sculptor and it all seemed so pointless as he spent years seemingly creating the same/similar sketch and maquette over and over. At the end of the movie, he finally creates his “seminal” piece based on those years of sketching. But it was a video on Gustav Klimt that finally put the pieces in place. The excerpt below (it’s worth watching the entire thing IMO) talks about how he would “sketch” various positions/expressions/gestures of his models until he found the one that would finally express the emotion/idea he envisioned for his painting or one of the characters in it . The pertinent part in this clip is about 35 seconds long—there is nudity, drawing and painting, in this clip if that is an issue:

This past weekend I was in Houston and viewed several wonderful exhibits at the local art museums. As a result of one of the shows, I looked up the artist and found a lecture on YouTube that she gave to a group of graduate students. In this video, which is wonderful overall (Not safe for work, by the way), there is a part linked here where she reminds the students that for every wonderful work that an artist presents there are at least 200 that didn’t work—You are only seeing their BEST.  Again, this is worth watching in its entirety–which I will address in a later post–but the pertinent part of this clip starts below and goes for about 50 seconds.

It is important to understand that great work doesn’t come out of anyone with every click of the shutter or swipe of the brush. It is a process of trying, experimenting, searching and discovering—not a goal but a journey or maybe even more like an adventure.

So, I embrace my failures and suggest you do the same. Try things when you don’t know whether they will work but you were attracted to or wonder about or try to express something you might not even yet understand yourself. I don’t throw even my “failures” away as it isn’t uncommon for me to go back and find better solutions to visual problems in that overlooked work than I did in those that caught my attention at the time—sometimes many years later. We often work ahead of our ability to currently see, our subconscious is often way ahead of us.