Showing posts with label professional photography. Show all posts
Showing posts with label professional photography. Show all posts

Tuesday, January 26, 2010

It's all work, it's all play


My copy of Robert Frost's book of poetry, "The Road Not Taken", has a worn and tattered dust-jacket. It bears the honorable scars of many years of use, the transportation dings through several moves, and the over-eagerness of my children's young hands. And yet, as many times as I've read through it, I never feel I've read through it nearly enough.

One of many favorites is the poem "Two tramps in mud time". There are many joys to be found in this piece of nine verses of eight lines each ... typically "Frostian" with it's pithy observations on people and life. It also ends with one of my favorite quotes of all time:

"But yield who will to their separation,
My object in living is to unite
My avocation and my vocation
As my two eyes make one in sight.
Only where love and need are one,
And the work is play for mortal stakes,
Is the deed ever really done
For Heaven and the future's sakes."

I capture more words these days (in my professional work) than I capture images, and in those words I need to convey knowledge, insight, and the joy of life and learning. In many ways the writing is not so different from what I do when I work with a camera. But through all my labors, either written with the keyboard or in the images I create, I try to keep Frost's object in living first and foremost.

rNeil

Tuesday, March 3, 2009

Eureka!

Sometimes a great notion ... doesn't come, and yet as a professional artist we need to create whether "Eureka!" strikes or not. I've also found that waiting for "Eureka!" to come pretty much guarantees that it will never come. At least, not often enough to be worth waiting for. Certainly not often enough to pay the bills!

The suspense writer Tom Clancy has said he starts every day writing for work on his newest project. His tactic to avoid writers block is simply to start by editing the writing he's already done on the project, and by the time he's done some of that, his characters are tapping at his shoulder and wanting to get back to work with him.

Alan Held, a good friend and major operatic bass/baritone, says he doesn't warm up before a performance so much to "warm up" as we would get ready for say, sports, as to find where the various parts and registers of the voice are at that moment, and massage them into a seamless "whole". Parts or registers of the voice may feel like they are in a place different from the day before, but where they are now is the place he will need to be "in" to start the performance. They also may move as the performance progresses, and so, he must constantly and fluidly adjust what he does with the voice as it feels at that moment. If parts of the voice get out of place during a performance, the beauty and majesty of the voice goes away.

Both examples are, in their own ways, simply variants imposed by our respective media on what we as artists do to keep creating on demand. And that really is the difference between the professional and the amateur in anything ... the professional must create on demand, while the amateur can wait for "Eureka!" to come from somewhere out there.

As a photographic artist, I must somehow start when the session is ready to go, and then, as it progresses, adjust what I'm doing according to how I and my subjects respond to each other and the circumstances we've chosen to work within. No matter how hard we plan, I have to be open to winging it on a moment's whim, and also be ready to guide things back into the pre-arranged plan. And there aren't any guides or rules for making these kinds of decisions. It is always a choice of the moment.

A test all professional artists must constantly pass is how wisely we choose our course during the moment of creation, whether guided by "Eureka!" or not. It becomes a test of confidence, of the willingness to simply ... trust. Whether with voice or words or camera or oil, we have to trust in something that cannot be seen at the time, and can only be measured in value after we have let it fly. Life being what it is, the value of our work is ultimately set by others, quite often not even by the people who have contracted with us to perform our services.

The life of the professional artist is ultimately and always a work of faith. A willingness to live by intangibles, and to embrace uncertainty as a daily companion. I can't say as I'd recommend it to anyone, and yet, it is all I know how to ... be. The great operatic tenor Pavarotti once said that to be a professional artist, he needed to say to the world "I am a Tenor, you must listen to me!".

Well said, Luciano, well said.

We artists must find "Eureka!" somewhere in here, even if we don't know where we'll find here when we start. It's just what we do. It's how we live.

Coming soon ...

I've got a session planned for the near future that just drives my juices. They are a couple fellow artists, working in different media than I, he a musician and she a ... hmmmm ... renaissance artist. Yes, that's it ... and think of the British pronunciation, "re| 'na| sunce" spoken in a soft, sibilant voice.

They are fun, serious, quirky, supportive, observant, experienced, and near totally child-like in their wonder of the world and the people around them. I'll be spending a day with them, doing a day-in-the-life project of a day at home in their house in the hills overlooking the Willamette Valley. Their home is filled with interesting items that tell such stories in and of themselves, and the instruments ... so many beautiful and one-of-a-kind guitars, harp-guitars, and stringed devices that I (mentally!) drool over the prospects of this shoot.

The vistas from their windows, and the quality of light that comes in through them in the early spring, well ... this is what I live for in the artistic sense of my life.

Practicality has had a hand here ... their house has been undergoing some remodeling, and was supposed to be finished a bit ago. So, when the workmen leave, we're on. Soon.

I treasure the opportunity of making the images that I will make there. We will have a great time, and together will participate in the intriguing process that results in the beautiful art that I have been given the skills and interest to create.

Someday Soon!

Monday, March 2, 2009

The Wonder of it all ...


I'm 30+ years into my professional artist career, and yet, the wonder of creating my own works and viewing the works of my peers is as strong as ever. I love the new tools I and my photographic peers have to create images of wonder and grace. I had such a thrill judging the Professional Photographers of Oregon print competition at their annual convention in Portland, Oregon last month I can't begin to describe it. The other judges of the panel were a joy: widely varied in taste and experience, very informed about professional imagery, tools, techniques, and styles, gently eloquent of their views, and willing and eager to learn from each other. What a joy!

After the judging, and for the next couple days of the convention, I got to talk "shop" with the makers of the images we'd judged, and there were some WONDERFUL images there to see! I was able to spend time in the salon simply absorbing the beauty, grace, and variety of the works displayed. And I was able to mentor some younger members of the association, always a joy and a privilege. A professional life is one of constant flux, constant immersion, constant absorption.

We sometimes don't notice the efforts of fellow artists, with our own heads bowed to grind out our daily efforts. But with the voice lessons I've been taking, for the last year, I've become even more impressed with the abilities to master their medium that classical concert and opera singers display. It looks so easy ... and in some way, it is. AFTER 20 years of training, practice, and self-driven exploration of one's own abilities and false pre-conceptions.

It wouldn't be any different for a concert oboeist or cellist, or a painter in oils. Years and years of effort, love, impatience, frustrations, and mistakes produce the graceful agility displayed by a master of any medium.

I love what I do ... and I love teaching it too. I give thanks for the life I've had, as I believe I appreciate the wonder of it all more than ever!