"urban" ku # 8 and mini-commentary for your consideration

Early-ish this AM in the sleepy hamlet of Au Sable Forks.

Yesterday, in comments on Jerry Greer's photograph, the notion of "pretty pictures" reared its ugly head. On an online photo forum Jerry is well known for what many would label his "pretty pictures" of his beloved southern Appalachians, and, when the accusation of "pretty picture" is hurled in his direction, he responds with a vigorous defense. He and I have gone heatedly lens-cap-to-lens-cap a few times but have managed to pull back before putting out contracts on each other.

But, all in all, I'm glad to have him here.

That said, it is, past history and all, very interesting/intriguing to read Jerry's "confession" (using only the absolute loosest of definitions) here on The Landscapists that much of his photography was created to "keep the lights on" as they say. I didn't take this to mean that he was disavowing any of his work or that the photographs were not created out of "...passion and a deep love..." for his subject. He also noted that he now has "...the freedom to shoot as I would like to shoot and not be tied to a specific style..." and that he is pursuing "...projects (that) will be freer and more art driven than the moneymaker projects that we do in mass to keep the lights on."

I will be very intrigued to follow the "transition".

On to the mini-commentary which I believe is very related to Jerry's comments - Many landscape/nature photographers seem to be very focused on a notion of "beauty" which very often becomes little more than another trite example of "pretty picture". Without going into a lengthy explanation of why I think this happens, let me offer the following -

Not sure of my reference on this - "...photographic documents are not the creations of an idealizing imagination that responds to the imperfections of reality with a dream of beauty. Instead, they are the trophies of a hunter who looks for the unusual in the world of what actually exists and discovered something exceptionally good."

It seems to me that this notion of "trophy hunter" pretty clearly defines the difference in photographic MO between the pretty-picture-ists and those who create photographs that are considered to be more in the fine art realm.

Eric Fredine - a follow up

Kent Wiley commenting on my Horizons photographs very kindly wrote : "...the formalism is stunning..."

The formal structure of my photographs is overt - obsessively so even. And I often worry about it becoming too 'cute' or contrived. That I might descend in to vacuous exercises in graphic design or emulate a second rate stock photographer.

But I also think its a fundamental part of what I do. The formal structure emphasizes that I am observing a scene from a precisely chosen place and time. This creates a transience that is part of the emotional impact. I am exploiting that unique characteristic of a photograph: it's relationship to a slice of the real world.

Compositional choices are inherently subjective and calculated - and are often manipulative. By making my choices overt and obvious I may actually be creating a more objective photograph. Which hopefully facilitates the viewer forming their own relationship with the scene.

At the same time, the formal structures are a reflection of the environments and provide a commentary on them. They are part of the narrative.

PS - Winter has aggressively asserted itself in Alberta: -25C, winds, snow. Strangely enough, this inspired me to get out and make some new photographs after a several months of inactivity.

FEATURED COMMENT: Kent Wiley wrote: "...yakety yak, yakety yak, yadda, yadda, yadda...but I'd like to hear more about the improv aspect of your photography.

Photopop 7.0

On the road to gravitas' house.

Jerry Greer ~ Old and Beautiful # 1

For years I’ve had a fascination with the forest interior. Yes, I love the big clean forest scene but lately I’ve really started to look into the secondary forests that predominately make up the southern Appalachian forests due to heavy logging.

I recently was hired for an assignment by the Southern Environmental Law Center to photograph an old growth forest with chestnut oaks that were cored and found to be over 325 years old (there is an imminent threat from the USFS to allow these trees to be cut as part of a huge timber sale). The trees were really not that impressive and were intermingled with what the old-timers call laurel-hell. My job as a photographer was to make the trees look massive and beautiful! This was the hardest photo assignment that I’ve ever done.

Tidbits

I have quite a collection of quotes, so, instead of keeping them all to myself, I'll start to share some on a regular basis. Please feel free to contribute. Here goes:

As soon as beauty is sought not from religion and love, but for pleasure, it degrades the seeker. ~ Emerson

and

The most beautiful emotion we can experience is the mysterious. It is the power of all true art and science. He to whom this emotion is a stranger, who can no longer wonder and stand in rapt awe, is as good as dead. To know what is impenetrable to us really exists, manifesting itself as the highest wisdom and the most radiant beauty, which our dull faculties can comprehend only in their most primitve forms - this knowledge, this feeling, is at the center of true religiousness. In this sense, and this sense only, I belong to the ranks of the devoutly religious men. ~ Einstein

I offer the second quote to qualify my sense of "religion" in the first.

ku # 441 and a commentary for your consideration

A cold frosty late November morning.

Last week over at Photo-Musings, Paul Butzi raised the topic of "talent". He stated, "I think the whole talent thing is a myth. At least, I think that talent is vastly over-rated....the myth is that talent is a substitute for hard work..."

The point that Paul seems to be making is, "doing your best is hard work...do the best work you can. Talent or no talent, that's all any of us can do..." I find it difficult to disagree with the proposition to, as they say in the Army, "be all that you can be".

BUT...(with me it seems like there's always a "but")

...I find it not nearly as difficult to disagree with the notion that "talent is vastly over-rated", in part because this idea seems to lead to the proposition that "...talent is a set of skills that you develop over time through desire" - a related but highly suspect statement made by Craig Tanner in his essay The Myth of Talent

The notions that "talent is vastly over-rated" and that "talent is a skill set" are rather dangerous ideas for 2 reasons:

reason # 1 - IMO, a true talent for something - that unbidden preternatural inner-being "gift" - is precious, relatively rare and very real. Not understanding that this so tends to denigrate the special-ness of a truly unique talent vis-a-vis a "small" talent. (FYI, I am not using the word "small" as a put-down because after all, as Paul Butzi also states, "...photography and art aren't a race..." or a competition, but this recognition does not negate the fact that some art is "large" in impact/influence/significance while other art is "small" in impact/influence/significance.)

I appreciate the manifestations of "small" talent very much but there is also a somewhat greater intangible "thrill" of discovery which I expereience when I am confronted the works of a very unique talent. This talent is a thing to be highly "celebrated" and often is by its display in books, galleries and museums.

On a side note, perhaps the web is a big gallery where all talent gets it due.

reason # 2 - I would also opine that talent is a fragile thing - the greatness of the artist's individuality that, if not recognized, fostered and encouraged to flourish, can, in the course of "hard work", wither on the vine. As H.D. Thoreau stated, "What does education often do? It makes a straight-cut ditch of a free, meandering brook.", or, as Einstein stated, "Imagination is more important than knowledge."

Confusing craft (skill sets) with talent is a big mistake. A skill set must work in the service of talent.

IMO, the American educator and painter Robert Henri made the point very clearly in his 1923 vintage book The Art Spirit - "The greatness of art depends absolutely on the greatness of the artist's individuality, and on the same source depends the power to acquire a tecnhique sufficient for expresion."

He goes on to discuss the inherent dangers of "developing a skill set" - "The man who is forever acquiring technique with the idea that sometime he may have something to express, will never have the technique of the thing he wishes to express...the technique learned without a purpose is a formula when used, knocks the life out of any idea to which it is applied.

IMO, talent is an inner resource that has more to do with an insatiable curiousity and a drive to "see" beneath the surface of things than it does with the desire to acquire skill sets. IMO, artists who foster and explore that unbidden burning curiousity and drive - the greatness of their individuality as a person - are those who most often create new ways of "seeing" life (sometimes with a new technique). New ways of "seeing" that have the greatest impact not only visually, but on the notion of what it means to be human - art that is truly meaning full.

PS - the fact that this commentary immediately precedes (in the scrolling scheme of things) Eric Fredine's photograph is not a coincidence. IMO, his comments speak to the heart of the talent matter.


FEATURED COMMENT Paul Ralphaelson wrote: "Several years ago some researchers went looking for talent among the applicants at a major British music conservatory. They were hoping to find examples of the Mozart phenomenon--musicians who soared above everyone else with precious little work.

What they found startled them: an almost exact correlation between the time spent practicing and studying and their admissions ranking. They also found an almost ten-to-one difference in practicing time between the hardest and least hardest working applicants.

In one sense, this challenges the notion of talent. In another sense, I'd suggest that capacity for relentless work IS a kind of talent. How many people walking the earth are actually capable of practicing piano for 60 hours a week, year after year, without burning out, collapsing from repetetive stress injuries, or going crazy?

I suspect it's very, very few. These great musicians exhibit genius-level obsession for working at their craft. I think you'll find similar examples in all the arts. Some photographers never leave the house without a camera. Some can't even face the world without a camera between them and reality ... their obsession leve seems almost like a kind of autism. The obsessive greats are out with their cameras while bums like me are sleeping in, going to cock fights, and running around with loose women.

publisher's comment - Paul R. brings up a point that I thought to put in my commentary but did not because I thought it was getting a little long. The point is this - In his commentary, Paul B. wrote about "hard work" as a means to doing the best you can do - to which I would add, with the talent you have. No question about that.

Paul R. writes about a "genius-level obsession" capacity for working at a craft, but this is NOT what I would call "hard work". I have no doubt that many (if not most) in the arts who are considered "large" talents are, in fact, obsessive about their art, but, while they may work to near exhaustion at times, I'd be surprised if many called it "hard work". Without implying anything about the measure of my talent, I can say that while I "work" at photography very "hard" and long, I really do enjoy every minute of it - even when I'm weaving a tapestry of computer/software-driven obscenities that hangs over the Adirondacks like a dark vaporous cloud, I have to admit, it feels much more like "play" than "work". Please don't tell my wife.

There is way more pleasure than pain. More like sleeping, going to cock fights, and running around with loose women. (Please don't tell my wife)

Eric Fredine ~ Horizons

I've been preparing work for an exhibition. It seems to be a period of consolidation and reflection accompanied by ample amounts of angst and uncertainty. I think I've learnt a few things about myself and my photography.

Thing one: my photographs - at least the ones that 'work' - are more about photographing a feeling than a subject. And because they are photographs of the way I feel they are very much a reflection of me.

Thing two: despite no overt attempt to create one a narrative seems to emerge.

Interior "landscapes"

With a fair degree of insight and accuracy, my wife is always accusing me of creating "landscapes" or "set pieces" all over our house. This is not a topic of great concern to our coupleship, but ocassionally, when the "landscape" in question includes something that should be put way, she has to slip into her tolerance-not-obliterance persona (for which I am deeply and continuously grateful).

In the case of this powder room landscape, no matter how I try to explain the artistic merits and rewards of contemplating this broom while sitting on the crapper, she just doesn't seem to grok.