Success. Everybody wants it. I have read a fair amount of books on being successful. In business, personal finance, marriage, you name it. One common theme I’ve noticed is a gravitation toward the “why.” If you know why you do something, you are more apt to be committed, invested, and ultimately successful.
Maybe you don’t know why you shoot just yet. That’s ok! With a thousand equally valuable answers out there, allow me to tell you why I shoot.
Have you ever walked into a screen door? Gotten a face-full of spider web (and then done the dance, trying to get it off)? Been at fault in a car accident? Thought there was one more step left in the staircase? Be not afraid, I have done all of these – each multiple times. These may seem like odd questions to pose at the beginning of a book on photography, but they have a common thread: they are things right in front of us that we still fail to see.
The word phōt, from the Greek language, means light. Light, as you know, is the means by which we are able to see anything and everything. Photography, then, is simply a record of where light has been.
But that’s not all it is. Take a minute think of your favorite picture of yourself or your family. Really do it. The place you were, the people you were with (or weren’t with!). Does it make you feel something? Does the thought of it move any muscles in your face? My guess is that you probably wouldn’t present it to another human being in this way: Look, this is my favorite record of where light has been!
And if you would, even though that’s exactly what it is, there’s probably something wrong with you. So are photographs cold-hard “stainless steel” records of where light has been, or are they arbiters of emotion and memories that reveal to us little bits of humanity? Of course, they are both.
Photography is a unique medium. In my mind, it is the crux of technology and art. This accounts for why it is simultaneously very technical and very personal.
The technical side is very calculated. It makes us ask questions like “Is my ISO too high?” “Should I use a faster shutter speed?” or even “Is it wise to borrow against my house to buy this EPIC lens?” (It’s ok, it’s safe here, you’re among friends). There’s something quantitatively comforting about the technicals. The left-brained inner-geek lives happily in this side because it’s less of a risk to identify a “wrong” or a “right.” It’s like the painter’s brushes. He has to know how to use his brushes correctly, or traditionally, at least, before he can start making decisions about what his own style is.
The art realm is quite the opposite. It makes us ask questions like “What am I trying to say with this?” “What is the mood that is given off?” or “Is this authentic?” Welcome to the right-brained slice of the pie. This realm can be far more threatening than the technical side because anyone can learn to push the right buttons on a camera, but only you can decide where to point it – and that has a lot to do with you, personally.
The good news is that the threat is also the strength: We all bring something different to the table because of our education, gender, religion, culture, language, upbringing, socioeconomic status, our current mood and so forth. All of these and more influence our artistic tastes, outlooks, and approaches. They reveal humanity.
Art and technology do have one particularly common purpose that they both excel at in spades: communication. I propose that art (take a renaissance painting) is more concerned with what is communicated and technology (internet, cell phones) is more about how we communicate. Naturally, they are mutually important.
Imagine if Albert Einstein only spoke in gibberish. He would have great things to say, but no one to understand. His what would be exceptional, his how would render his findings useless to the rest of us. Likewise, if Morgan Freeman only ever read the phone book. His delivery would be immaculate, but no one would care. His how would be unparalleled, his what would make him dull. Combining the how (technology) and the what (art) makes the left and the right brain work in harmony. One side without the other is, well, lacking!
Since the brain has to operate on the information (in photography, the light) it receives, and light enters through the eyes, we still have to face those very first questions that pointed to how photography relates to what we (or others) do or don’t see.
Half the fun of learning photography is learning to distance your vision from the vision of others. Bringing the beauty and interest in places and objects to those who have missed it. Therein lies the value in training your eye to see what you didn’t see before, and what other’s don’t see.
There is this myth in common photography conversations that some of us “have an eye” for it.
I don’t believe in that. Generally speaking, (buckle up) anyone who can see, can see what everyone else who can see can see. Confusingly worded as that may be, what matters is: anyone who can use a camera is an equal-opportunity see-er. It is what we choose to see that differentiates us, and we can be trained to choose differently.
Seeing through new eyes is a very deep and important skill we could all improve on. I believe it truly has the potential to make us more empathetic and compassionate toward our fellow man. With the right mindset, we can walk the veritable a mile in another man’s shoes every time we push the shutter.
I must warn you, since starting my photography journey many years ago, I honestly no longer see things like I used to. Photography has changed the way I look at the world every day, whether I have a camera in my hand or not, and it will do the same for you if you take the journey seriously. The one place I’ve never looked is back.
This is the heart of it all for me, and to respond to the prompt that titles this chapter: I shoot because the medium of photography is primarily about teaching myself to see differently, to better myself by learning to see what I’ve been missing. I shoot because the adage “time flies” is an all- too-serious reality. I shoot to make memories more accessible and visceral. I shoot to shed light on the beauty of the human person and the world we live in. I shoot to celebrate life.
With a photograph, you have the power to emphasize humanity in portraiture, you can reveal man’s great ability to create in architecture, or God’s in nature, you can stop and look for the “fine”r things in life with macro, or see and share life through a different point of view.
In reading my writings, I hope you will been inspired in ways I cannot even think of, because inspiration is more about you than it is about me. One person can look at a bridge and see a bridge, another will see leading lines, patterns, and texture. As stated earlier, I don’t believe it’s a gift that some have and others don’t – maybe it comes to some more easily than others, but in my opinion, it will come to anyone through practicing, and training yourself to see things you didn’t see before. To constantly see the world through new eyes.
And then what, once you see it? Tell the story.
Our stories are our legacy, it’s what we leave behind. Life is short and what we shoot can be powerful, a force for truth, beauty and goodness that lives on in our absence.
A brief anecdote on this topic: I studied abroad in the fall of 2007 in a small town in Austria. During that semester, I traveled to 13 countries and grew in many important ways. Everyone that had gone before told me to journal during my time there. I took their advice for about three weeks and then found it inconvenient to keep up. I stopped telling the story. I found that journal about a month ago, at the time of this writing. I was disappointed I hadn’t treated my journal more like an investment in my future lack of memory. There are so many memories that have turned hazy from that trip, and the few that I wrote about came back to me vibrantly as I reviewed them. I understand now what it’s too late to change – that when I don’t tell the story, I forget it, even as important as it was to me at the time and despite my belief that I wouldn’t.
So tell your story, even when you don’t know how it will end, because it is the telling of the story that is the value, and more often than not, journaling (synonymous with taking photos in this parallel) is the way to view who you have been, and in that contrast of where and who you’ve been, who you are now will become more clear, and inform who you will be. Similarly, in taking more photos, you will see how your skills have grown from when you just began, to where you are now.
Photograph early. Photograph late. Photograph weird subjects and plain. Photograph your family. Photograph often and you won’t have to miss out on remembering where you’ve been or experiencing the joys of knowing how far you’ve come both personally and in your craft.
No moment in this precious life is a waste.
Thank you in advance for enduring my often opinionated prose. I hope I help you on your journey to be a better, more visionary photographer through it.
It may sound like a daunting task, but beginning is as easy as knowing what to look for. Read on and I’ll tell you what I look for so you can find what you’ve been looking for. You’ll be able to answer the question “Why do you shoot?” in no time.
On to the next article: Knowing where to start in an ocean of Gear
**If you’re interested in treating these posts as a self-study with assignments, you can get our Assignment Series 1 question pack to help you learn these ideas through real, targeted, hands-on practice. The Assignment Series 1 question pack is included with enrollment in our beginner’s course.**
