LensWork - Photography and the Creative Process Brooks Jensen

As a follow up on yesterday's conversation about music and looking at photographs, I could apply the exact same logic to locations where I photograph. The first time I go anywhere I tend to photograph the fairly obvious compositions - - and perhaps do so without nearly as much depth as I would like to. I need to return to a location a half a dozen or a dozen times before I feel I've gotten to know it. Weather changes, seasons change, but most importantly, I change.

To really appreciate a new piece of music, I need to hear it at least 20 times so that I can own it in my mind. The same can be said for photography. I have to spend time with an image before I feel like I've seen it. I have to think about it. I have to search for metaphors in my responses. Sometimes I need to know a little bit about the photographer so I can put their photograph in the context of their career. The idea that photography is something to be glanced at just sits wrong with me on so many levels.

Photographs are visual, but that does not mean they are devoid of words, devoid of thought. Every photograph sparks a thought. A photograph might spark thoughts of the beautiful, the trite, the irrelevant, the desirable - - there is probably an example of a photograph for every word in language. Artwork is a gateway to thought. How does knowing this change what we do and produce?

Here's an exercise you might find fun. What happens when you spend time with an image before you begin processing it? Seriously, try this exercise next time you are working on images in Lightroom or Photoshop. Before doing anything to the captured file, spend 20 minutes or so just looking at it. Write down any words that come to mind, any thoughts, any ideas. Challenge yourself to write 10 things before you begin processing the image.

The common perception of a photograph is that it is a fact. Even a fanciful, imagine-based photograph is a statement of how the photographer sees the world. But what doors to creativity are opened if we change that perspective and think of a photograph (or a project) as a proposal to consider? What if your photograph says, "Here's a question" rather than "Here's a truth"?

When you decide you want to make a photograph of this particular thing, why is that thing chosen over all others? What is it in that thing that makes it more photogenic than all others? I've thought about this a great deal lately and I'm not sure I have the answer. I do, however, think I have one answer: Idealism. So much of photography as it is practiced is the pursuit of the ideal.