LensWork - Photography and the Creative Process Brooks Jensen

I suppose all of us have, from time to time, been mesmerized by a piece of artwork. It grabs us, it seduces our attention, it fills our consciousness. Why? What is it about a piece of artwork that gives it this power to influence us so deeply? Maybe not 100% of the time, but most frequently I find this happens when the artwork engages my imagination, when it allows me to drop my normal awareness of the world and to be transported to a world of its making.

A friend of mine is downsizing in preparation for moving to a retirement community. She can't find anyone who wants her extensive collection of sheet music. Another friend is finding it difficult to find a home for her collection of dinnerware and silver. No one wants them. It seems like the younger generation values collecting experiences far more than collecting things. I've come to regard this as the joy and burden of ownership. What are the implications for our fine art photographs?

On a whim, I decided to look back at the entire collection of my work that has been published in Kokoro. So far, that consists of 172 projects containing 2,432 images. I was happy and proud to publish every one of them — at the time. Needless to say, some have not stood the test of time as well as others. That's good.

Ask most people what makes a fabulous landscape photograph and they will unhesitatingly say a fabulous landscape. That is, the magic is out there. This implies that the photographer is simply a faithful recorder of the scene. Ask most photographers what they actually do when they are out photographing and they will tell you they are looking for the spectacular scene.

I distinctly remember in my youth being encouraged to consider archival properties and longevity of my images as one of the primary goals of processing my prints. It was just assumed that it was important that our work survive 50 or 100 years when it would be valued by generations yet unborn. But now that I've been in photography for 50 years, I can't help but notice that my bookshelves are filled with photographers who have disappeared in the obscurity of time. I know that's the fate for my work, too, and that prompts me to consider other strategies.

The real work of the artist all takes place outside of the spotlight. If a pianist doesn't enjoy practice, they will never be an accomplished performer. If a photographer doesn't love the darkroom or studio work, that will be obvious in their prints. Toiling away on one's own is the heart of the art life.