“Art that gets paid for today is typically art that helps a company get a return on its investment. But as many are beginning to point out, that’s not the only possible answer, or necessarily the best one.” — Anna North
North’s piece at the New York Times is a fascinating read about art and the price of art in today’s Internet age, but that quote, from the end of the article, is what I have struggled with, and continue struggling with.
Corporate largesse usually isn’t the best answer, not where art is concerned. There are work that will hardly contribute to any effect on a company’s bottom line, but are necessary anyway. Everyone is still trying to find a way to make it financially sustainable, and that is only possible when enough people find it important, or compelling enough to put down money for it. If that doesn’t happen, I can only hope the art continues to get made anyway, because that is what we do, no matter what else we are doing to pay the bills and put food on the table.
When there are so many ways to get things for “free”, it inculcates the mentality that art should be available at no cost. I have no answers to that at the moment, except to keep photographing what is relevant to me; nor is this some sort of apocalyptic warning, but rather just an observation that gets me thinking over a cup of coffee and a cigarette or two.
Will people buy my work? Or prints? Or help sustain what I do? I guess I’ll find out soon enough.
“You see a book or a body of work and you know you love it, that it is something that resonates with you, but its a real challenge to say why. This is a constant with my parents or family, people who aren’t involved in photography.” — Aaron Schuman
That quote nails down why photography is so fascinating to me, beyond all the painfully fabricated stories of artspeak that descends upon artists’ statements like a fog of war, obfuscating both the purpose and integrity of the photographs that are proffered up as work. And it annoys me, because I’d prefer to look at photographs than wanting them explained to me.
I’ve always believed that the magic, for lack of a better word, of photography, lies in its processes, its many ways of presentation, its ways of presenting a view of the world the photographer sees it, the way it can persuade, and alter or reinforce perceptions. Photography can be subversive, like all other forms of art, and it can be reassuring, or uplifting, or depressing. It can give purpose, or remove it.
All that power, in the form of a two-dimensional image, be it in a physical form (that I obviously prefer) or on a backlit screen, as it so often happen today. Why do we need to cloud all of that with unnecessary words?
I’m not saying captions do not work; they supply context, and most people who aren’t seriously involved in photography almost require that context, or a back story, to appreciate a photograph. In photojournalism, it is a necessity, and adds great value when done well. What I object to is window dressing, when a mediocre photograph is used to illustrate a story that is far more interesting. The photograph is almost an afterthought in such cases, almost peripheral in its application, and downright unnecessary in many cases.
It is difficult enough to explain why you like a photograph, or a body of work, without using too many words that appear to fluff up the work. I’m a fan of keeping things simple. Speaking plainly, writing concisely, and let the viewer immerse themselves in the photographs. That’s my preferred mode of working, and I believe many prefer it that way. Alas, we are all under pressures to produce artists’ statements, explaining our work, when not all photographs need explanations. “Keeping it simple” appears to be a forgotten rule.
I also believe that finding the right words to describe why one likes a photograph is a challenging task, and as photographers, we cannot afford to take this task lightly. It is challenging enough without needing to navigate the fog of war that seems to permeate many artists’ statements these days, and that does not help us elevate photography to be appreciated on a more down-to-earth, everyman level. How much of that contributes to the idea that photography artists are arrogant, snobbish folk with their heads in the clouds, I’m not sure; but I’m quite sure it doesn’t help, either.
Perhaps when we choose to describe our work in the most straightforward manner possible, in the simplest, plainest language we can muster, photography will be as widely appreciated as novels are. But that struggle continues. For me, I’ll just stick to the ten words that the great Bill Pierce once said:
“I saw something wonderful. Let me show it to you.”
Is it me, or do younger people seem happier? That’s the feeling I get, and I seem to be photographing more young people these days. Is that a sign of aging? I had this long conversation with an old friend, about his willingness to be 23-years-young again.
I suppose that is a sign of aging.
I think this photo will look great on a wall with a down light illuminating the print. Time to get printing again.
Also, not every photograph have to necessarily mean anything to anyone else, other than the photographer.