Mundane Wednesday June 22, 2005
Living in a dreary Northern England city, I sometimes struggle to find interesting content. Especially when the weather is leaden grey, as it often is. I look at people’s internet photo sites, and wish I lived somewhere vibrant and interesting like they do: San Francisco, the Californian beach, or even London. The latter is astonishingly rich in cultural and architectural delights and millions of people from all around the world visit for exactly that reason, so wandering around with a camera is a) very likely to reward you and b) very unlikely to provoke anti-camera hostility, if you do candid work. London is so fast, busy and full of activity that people hardly notice, and you appear like one tourist amongst thousands of others.
Part of photography is psychological, in the sense that the real work takes place in your thoughts, feelings and reactions to an environment or situation. You see and select something from a myriad of visual stimuli all round you according to aesthetic sensitivity, or unconscious feeling. You may have seen a beautiful image weeks, months or years ago and it made a good impression – you enjoyed it. Unconsciously, you are looking for a similar image to create yourself – or perhaps consciously. A Bill Brandt composition, a Cartier-Bresson moment, an Ansel Adams panorama. All those images are somewhere in your unconscious, and it is natural that they inspire and stimulate you in your own work. It can be mere imitation, but for much of the time it is a natural process of self-learning and aesthetic development. I don’t have to invent algebra because clever people did it many years ago; I don’t have to invent a new camera angle – very often – because I’ve seen someone else employ it and know it is effective.
And sometimes, we experiment and shoot pictures for which we may have little or no feeling, simply to see the results and assess them at a later stage. There’s a constant proportion of my work that is relatively boring because of the limitations of my location. You don’t necessarily see that at my web site. There’s a lot of repetitive nonsense talked about photography, and one of the clichés is you can create a photo anywhere if you are creative and thoughtful. There is some truth in that but it is actually more important, in my opinion, where you are and also what the light is doing. If I went to the Sahara desert, the English Lake District (and I do), Austria, a Pacific island or Yosemite National Park (and I’d like to), I know I would get some stunning pictures. There’s no doubt about it. Part of that is because I know I can recognise photographic potential without which you miss opportunities wherever you are. But more importantly, if you go somewhere exotic, vibrant, interesting or beautiful, you are far more likely to get pleasing results. So when I’m not in those kind of places, I have to work much harder and maybe look for different kinds of image – not the stunningly beautiful and dramatic pictures I know are out there, but more subtle, considered, unusual pictures where there is a higher degree of abstraction from what is ostensibly rather boring.
I don’t believe there is any great virtue in that; it’s like getting by with a slow computer because you can’t afford to buy a new one. If I could, I would roam around the world pursuing beautiful pictures. When photography was establishing itself as a vibrant and creative new practice in the sixties and seventies, people like David Bailey went to exotic countries to capture a kind of imagery few people had seen. Done beautifully with considerable technical skill, of course, but done in a stunning location. Cartier-Bresson did the same thing, enjoying the luxury of his wealthy background that allowed him to travel to India, for example, and document powerful historical moments without worrying about a wage packet.
I think there is some value in finding beauty in mundane and daily trivia, and part of the ‘message’ of such work is precisely that: redeeming the commonplace, finding value in the overlooked. Such opportunities are however quite limited, and I would benefit from a beautiful or interesting location.