The Interior Landscape: The Landscape on Both Sides of the Camera: Reflections on Art, Creativity, Expression, and a Life in Photography

PART I • INSPIRED BY REALITY

Slowly I discovered the secret of my art. It consists of a meditation on nature, on the expression of a dream which is always inspired by reality.

—Henri Matisse

On Creativity and Expression in Photography

1 Poetic Odds

Photography’s potential as a great image-maker and communicator is really no different from the same potential in the best poetry where familiar, everyday words, placed within a special context, can soar above the intellect and touch subtle reality in a unique way.

—Paul Caponigro

Many artists, including photographers, often refer to poetry when describing their work and philosophy. The correlation is easy to understand when we consider that poetry derives from a Greek word meaning to create or to bring something into being. This definition is close to that of the word art, derived from a Latin word referring also to items brought into being by human skill (as opposed to things occurring naturally or randomly).

The distinction between prose and poetry in writing is analogous to the distinction between representation and artistic expression in photography. In both cases, the difference comes down to how one expresses meaning: literally or metaphorically, objectively or subjectively, decisively or ambiguously, descriptively or implicitly.

One glaring difference between writing and photography, however, is this: Among writers, neither poets nor journalists try to assert their own form of writing as the only valid form of writing or to demonize other forms. In contrast, in photography, expressing meaning poetically, departing from objective representation when it serves no useful purpose (or even distracts), is often met with ire. In writing, no journalist is concerned that the existence of poetry may diminish the importance or credulity of reportage, and no poet worries that readers may feel deceived if they realize that poetic verses are often not meant as literal statements of fact. In this sense, the analogy also makes it plain how far photography still has to go as an art medium, if only just to catch up to where other media already are.

Pondering the challenge facing photographers aspiring to creative expression, W. Eugene Smith wrote, I am constantly torn between the attitude of the conscientious journalist who is a recorder and interpreter of the facts and of the creative artist who often is necessarily at poetic odds with the literal facts. It seems unfortunate to me that any photographer should feel torn between these two intents, as both are squarely within the capacities of the photographic medium. They are only in contention because of misinformed assumptions about nonexistent limitations people assume are inherent in the photographic medium. There is no practical reason, not even in terms of photographic purity (however one chooses to define it), why photographs can’t serve both purposes without diminishing either.

Among photographers who pondered photography as it relates to poetry, Minor White (who was a poet as well as a photographer) wrote:

My pity for the pure photographer

My pity for the pure poet

Is tempered by the responsibility

I have to three media

Whereas they to only one.

Ernst Haas, former president of Magnum Photos, wrote, We are on the way to speaking our very own language. With it we will have to create our own literature. You will have to decide for yourself what kind of works you want to create. Reports of facts, essays, poems—do you want to speak or to sing? Henri Cartier-Bresson wrote, I’m not responsible for my photographs. Photography is not documentary, but intuition, a poetic experience.

Despite such historical figures acknowledging the artistic, poetic potential of photography, many photographers today still wish to clip photography’s expressive wings—to renounce photography’s ability to serve as a medium for visual poetry, distinct from but equal in importance to its ability to serve as a medium for factual representation. This is not to say that a photograph can’t be both factually representational and poetic in meaning, only that there is no tenable argument for why the former should be required for the latter.

Perhaps a stronger argument in favor of acceptance of photography as a means for (metaphorical, nonrepresentational) creative expression is that, regardless of opinion, poetic photographs—many decidedly not representational—already make up a great proportion of photographs one is likely to encounter in public media. This accords with the general trend in art—away from literal representation and toward greater abstraction, subjectivity, symbolism, and ambiguity.

Much of today’s art, loosely referred to as postmodern, is no longer about adherence to recognizable styles or purity of process. It is about the expression of ideas and about exploring the role of art itself, by whatever means the artist sees fit. This rift between art’s evolutionary course and the opinions of some conservative photographic purists may force some to choose their allegiances and priorities. It’s inevitable that for many artists, art in the larger sense is more important than any conflict plaguing one medium or another. As Jerry Uelsmann expressed it, Much of the experimental photography that we revere today has been done by individuals whose commitment to photography is but one aspect of their commitment to art.

Photographer David Ward, discussing the importance of realism in artistic photography, commented, Nobody gives any objection at all to the fact that paintings aren’t real. This may seem obvious to us today, but it was not always the case. Until the late 19th century, fidelity to nature was considered in many venues (notably in France, which was the hub of Western art at the time) as the highest aspiration for art. Works that departed from realistic appearances, such as those by the early impressionists, were shunned, sometimes even ridiculed, and excluded from the most prestigious art exhibition of the day, the Paris Salon. In response, the early impressionists started a salon of their own and prompted a revolution in the arts. As painter Robert Henri put it, History proves that juries in art have been generally wrong.

The invention of photography, portending a future in which the photographic medium could surpass painting in its ability to portray natural, realistic appearances, was seen by some critics as potentially ruinous to art. Charles Baudelaire, a distinguished poet and art critic, wrote a scathing rebuke of photography in an essay about the Paris Salon of 1859—just three decades after the invention of photography. In his critique, Baudelaire wrote this:

In matters of painting and sculpture, the present-day Credo of the sophisticated, above all in France (and I do not think that anyone at all would dare to state the contrary), is this: I believe in Nature, and I believe only in Nature (there are good reasons for that). I believe that Art is, and cannot be other than, the exact reproduction of Nature … Thus an industry that could give us a result identical to Nature would be the absolute of Art. A revengeful God has given ear to the prayers of this multitude. Daguerre¹ was his Messiah. And now the faithful says to himself: Since photography gives us every guarantee of exactitude that we could desire (they really believe that, the mad fools!), then photography and Art are the same thing … this industry [photography], by invading the territories of art, has become art’s most mortal enemy.

The infamous satirical critic Louis Leroy, upon seeing Claude Monet’s painting Impression, soleil levant (Impression, sunrise), commented, I was just telling myself that, since I was impressed, there had to be some impression in it … and what freedom, what ease of workmanship! Wallpaper in its embryonic state is more finished than that seascape. Prompted by Leroy’s mocking critique, the early impressionists adopted the term impressionism for their movement, rendering Leroy a historic laughingstock.

I mention the impressionists not only as an example of art evolving by revolutionary leaps (rather than by gradual transitions)—toward subjective expression and away from objective realism. Impressionism also holds another important (if not as widely acknowledged) lesson that is relevant to photographers who care about fidelity to an artist’s genuine experience (which, in the case of poetic expression, does not necessarily imply fidelity to real appearances). The lesson is this: although impressionism became a roaring success as an art movement, in time it had lost its connection with real experience (read: subjective impressions) and came to be regarded primarily as a formal aesthetic style. This trend also is evident in photography, where many are content copying the styles (if not the exact compositions) of others, giving no mind to the fact that what such photographs ostensibly express often is incongruous with the photographer’s real experience.

Monet famously credited the success of his works to the emotions he felt when working out in nature, rather than to the distinctive style of impressionism. Many other impressionists, despite lumping their work into the same category as Monet’s, produced works of similar effect but without the experience of working in (and from) nature. As Monet himself put it, My only merit lies in having painted directly in front of nature, seeking to render my impressions of the most fleeting effects, and I still very much regret having caused the naming of a group whose majority had nothing impressionist about it. This should serve as a warning to those interested in poetic expression in photography. Stylistic departures from realistic appearances are not enough (indeed, not even required) for an image to be poetic, but fidelity to true experience is required if one aspires to live a poetic life.

Authenticity and truthfulness are not so simplistic as to be reduced to objective representation alone. Some truths may be conveyed more powerfully by use of metaphor, rather than by literal statements of fact. Some truths stand to gain greater impact and acceptance if conveyed in poetry than in reportage. If this were not the case, there would be no need for art, poetry or other. Those who seek to deny photography the same evolutionary progression that propels all other arts may do so by some seemingly noble convictions, but such was the case for any historical movement seeking to repress progress. Whatever short-term benefits such attitudes may yield for some segment of the population, we must remember that they come at the risk of photography remaining mired in obsolete traditions and not considered a serious medium for art.

¹Louis Daguerre, inventor of the popular daguerreotype process.

2 Creativity, Success, and Personality

One of those behind-the-scenes realities associated with the pursuit of art is the fact that—when it comes to successful work output—artistic failures nearly always outnumber artistic successes, by a considerable margin. Of course, this stands to reason. If every photograph produced was a clear and unambiguous winner, the pursuit, itself, would quickly lose its appeal.

—Huntington Witherill

When asked what advice I have for beginners, I generally quote the words of Edward Weston: If I have any ‘message’ worth giving to a beginner, it is that there are no short cuts in photography. I then qualify that there are, in fact, a great many shortcuts in photography if one’s primary interest is making popular or salable photographs. Weston’s advice holds true only in the sense that there are no shortcuts in creative and expressive photography—the kind of photography I strive to make and find most rewarding. These qualities—creativity and expression—are also what I admire most when viewing other people’s photographs. To be sure, photographers who are committed to creativity and expression are not common because these qualities are difficult to accomplish. Then again, that is exactly why I revere them and aspire to them in my own work. As Ralph Waldo Emerson put it, The heroic cannot be the common, nor the common the heroic.

So much writing about photography today is dedicated to things you can buy and to recipes you can follow to make successful photographs, implicitly defining success in terms of popularity, recognition, or profitability. For the sake of this discussion, I will also use this narrow characterization of success, even though I think there are other ways to define it that may be more useful in some circumstances. Specifically, I wish to distinguish success as a goal from creativity as a goal.

I think it’s important for photographers to give thought and to acknowledge clearly whether their primary motivation is success or creativity. Although success and creativity are not mutually exclusive, when one or the other is considered as the primary driver behind a photographer’s work, each comes with risks and rewards that the other does not. Considering these differences should guide photographers in choosing decisively which approach best fits their temperament and aspirations. Since the pursuit of success and the pursuit of creativity require different mind-sets and strategies, what may constitute good advice for a photographer motivated primarily by success may be poor advice for a photographer motivated primarily by creativity, and vice versa.

Consider, for example, the plethora of photographic tutorials—books, workshops, articles, and videos—attempting to reduce such things as visual composition or what makes a good photograph into templates, rules, formulas, quantifiable metrics, or even stepwise recipes. These tutorials may undoubtedly increase one’s odds of making successful photographs (to wit, many authors of such tutorials follow their own formulaic advice with proven success, despite this success ensuing from decidedly uncreative work). However, to pursue too closely such templates or modes of thinking will almost certainly hinder your odds of making truly creative work. More important, to pursue such advice will almost certainly prevent you from experiencing some rewards of creative living and artistic expression, which are not quantifiable or measurable by such things as sales, awards, or number of followers, yet may still enrich your life in pervasive and profound ways.

In contrast to so many how-to teachings, consider those resources promoting the value of things like mindfulness, exploration, trial and error, divergent thinking, original creation, experiencing and expressing powerful emotions in your work. Such resources may be a boon to a creative person but may lead to frustration and dissatisfaction among those who prioritize success above creativity. Those driven primarily by success may, for example, return from even the most sublime of places feeling disappointed if their experience did not yield popular or sellable photographs. Oftentimes, the disappointment may be further compounded by guilt for feeling disappointment—for having failed to appreciate your experience as others suggest you should have.

In terms of reward, perhaps the most important distinction between creativity and success is this: Creativity is most rewarding not as something to practice ad hoc when making a photograph but as a general attitude toward life. A creative attitude may lead to the experience of flow, to occasional grand discoveries and meaningful breakthroughs, which is not the case when you follow familiar (convergent) recipes and templates aiming to produce predictable, preconceived outcomes. Put another way, the rewards of prioritizing creativity over success are ongoing and sustained. They grow cumulatively over time and may on occasion yield immense and unexpected rewards, even the possibility of enriching your life with new meaning. Conversely, the rewards of prioritizing success over creativity, while not in doubt, tend to be anecdotal and short-lived. After each success, you will likely return to the same baseline you started from until the next hit. This self-defeating cycle is known as the hedonic treadmill.

In terms of risk, a creative attitude never guarantees that any photograph you make will be good or better by any objective measure. In fact, a creative attitude relies on experimentation and on-the-spot (divergent) decision-making, which in many cases may lead to failure and to overall reduced productivity. Creativity is also not guaranteed to ensue from applying any formulas or following any set of directions. You can’t force creativity; you can only invite it in and hope it accepts your invitation. This means by necessity that one who prioritizes the rewards of creativity above those of success must accept the possibilities of failure, of prolonged unproductive periods, and of potentially little material return relative to invested time and effort. The pursuit of creativity therefore demands greater courage, grit, and self-confidence than the pursuit of success. Indeed, some of the most creative works in history were originally met with doubt and criticism, even scathing reviews impacting some artists’ reputations and livelihoods. Some creative geniuses even went to their graves before their works ever received recognition, let alone were considered important or valuable.

To prioritize creativity above success is to seek reward first in the process of making art—in thinking about art, in experimenting and exploring, in being mindful and receptive to new possibilities—and only second in any product of art. This may seem unintuitive, but studies show that this approach, favoring creativity over success, in fact, has the power to enrich an artist’s life more than the pursuit of finished products. As Scott Barry Kaufman and Carolyn Gregoire put it in their book, Wired to Create:

Those who are more motivated to develop a final product (agreeing with statements like, I work most creatively when I have deadlines, If I don’t have something to show for myself, then I feel I’ve failed) tend to score lower in creative potential and intrinsic motivation and higher in stress and extrinsic (reward-oriented) motivation. Those who derive enjoyment from the act of creating and feel in control of their creative process tend to show greater creativity than those who are focused exclusively on the outcome of their work.

To be clear, I am not proposing that prioritizing creativity above success is necessarily the right approach for everyone. In fact, it may be the wrong approach for many. To know whether creativity or success should be your top priority, I recommend taking one of many freely available online personality tests, particularly those measuring the so-called Big Five personality traits of the Five-Factor Model of personality (FFM): extraversion, openness, conscientiousness, neuroticism, and agreeableness.

Material considerations (e.g., earning income) aside, those who stand to benefit most from prioritizing creativity above success are those who score higher than average in openness to new experiences and those who score below average in conscientiousness—the quality of being motivated by achievement and having the discipline to turn ideas into products. Those who score higher than average in conscientiousness likely will benefit more from making success their primary priority. Such people in fact may drive themselves to ongoing frustration and dissatisfaction if their efforts to make creative work are unsuccessful.

To give you a sense of where creative artists tend to fall relative to Big Five personality traits, a 2006 study by Mark Batey and Adrian Furnham concluded (according to an article by Furnham²) this:

Artists are significantly higher on Neuroticism than nonartists; lower on Extraversion than nonartists; higher on Openness than nonartists; lower on Agreeableness than nonartists; lower on Conscientiousness than non-artists, and higher on Psychoticism than nonartists.

When it comes to deciding whether your living experience will be richer by prioritizing creativity over success or the other way around, the perennial advice holds: know thyself.

²Adrian Furnham, Progress and Problems in Creativity Research. The Nature of Human Creativity, edited by Robert J. Sternberg and James C. Kaufman, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, United Kingdom, 2018.

The Clearest and Strongest Way of Seeing 3