As the day began to darken I stood in the driveway watching the sky as the dark clouds swept overhead, the grey descending like a thick blanket masking sharp edges of the world so only soft shapes and tones remained. “The light is nice right now,” emerged from my lips and intended for no one, just talking out loud to myself. The photographer inside was weighing possibilities, factoring time till dark, making a mental note of the tripod in the topcase of the scooter, struggling to decide if I should venture out to make some photographs. Part of me wanted to go inside to make a cup of tea and watch season 8 of Trailer Park Boys. Another part was trying to remind me that a photographer takes pictures, they don’t think about them or talk about them. Finally, thankfully, Kim, who was nearby in the garden said, “Go. Go take pictures. You never know what you’ll see.” That idea is at the heart of learning to see creatively.
Kim is right. She’s almost always right when it comes to the mental gymnastics I go through related to creative thought, inertia, and production. Sitting here now I know that she’s largely responsible for me being able to put more than a few words together in an intelligent manner. Without that influence I would still be a photographer, selling my expertise to the highest bidder with little ability to reflect or share what I was thinking, feeling or seeing.
There is no substitute for working if you want to improve your skill or output with a camera. If you want to make good pictures you have to be out there shooting. The more you shoot the better you’ll become. That may be oversimplifying things a bit but working, especially when you don’t want to or when you’ve convinced yourself there’s noting to see, those are the times that you need to step out.
A passing rainstorm swept away the heat and humidity leaving the evening at a cool 68F as the light escaped in the west. I didn’t see anything to shoot but I did get out on the road, on the Vespa, and let my spirit fly for a bit, let my eyes wander across the landscape should the piano picture appear (that’s the one you like enough to put in a frame and set on the piano. A technical term used by photographers over 50).
You’ll never know what you’ll see so it’s best to have a camera at hand and experience the world so you don’t miss the visual gifts that abound.
“Piano Picture”…..I like that.
I first heard that term in 1973 and it stuck with me. A photographer friend takes it a bit further as he invokes the Zone System that many associate with Ansel Adams. He talks about strong pictures like this: “I previsualized that picture through the sale to the Museum of Modern Art.”.
It’s a photographer thing…
Your experience mirrors mine as a composer; if you wait for the muse to strike, you’ll wait a long time. Rather, if you show up faithfully to do the work, MAYBE the muse will meet you there! So you have to have the discipline to keep working, and then, if you do, the art begins to create itself. Speaking of muses, the Greeks had a nice idea about them — THEY are responsible for the quality of the art, not YOU. So, if you make a great photo or a great piece of music, thank your muse; on the other hand, if you make a lousy one, you can blame your muse, too! Some people get genius muses, and some people get mediocre ones! I like the idea because it takes the pressure off! Anyway, thanks for inspiring some great ideas!
Love the idea of the muse being responsible for the quality of the work — good or bad. I had not heard that before. I can see how it would take some of the pressure away.
Showing up to work can be really difficult some days when you feel as if your muse is just pushing you to do more and more bad work. Thankfully those spells never lasted so long that I gave up and turned towards another way of life…
Kim seems like a wise woman “Go, go take pictures” sometimes our spouses know what our souls need to nourish them more than we do. I Like the piano picture reference. I love that you were letting your soul fly from riding your scooter.
Kim is one of the smartest, if not the smartest, person I’ve ever met. She knows me better than I probably do myself and can read the agitated energy the says “photography” to her.
…And it’s always good to have an otter box (or facsimile) to stow away your camera with clouds like those. I love the splash of headlight on the storm dark pavement. (Sadly, I understood exactly what you meant by piano shot!)
I have a couple of Otter Boxes from my canoeing days. Will have to dig them up.
I’ll have to see what other expressions I can dig up that are like “piano picture”!