DISCREPANCY

When I look at my Instagram feed I’m struck by the weird (at least to me) discrepancy that is shown there. On the one hand there are photos of my garden and of me communing with the backyard chipmunks.

There are also photos from After the Fact, the book I’m in the final stages of producing. A book about, maybe, the rise of fascism, and the changing political and physical climates. Large events that  we are living through and, if you are conscious, trying to make sense of.

But I think many of us are stuck on the horns of that dilemma. We wonder how to live our lives in an era of lowered expectations and rising outrage, how to reconcile beauty with cruelty and greed. And I think a lot of us deal with it by becoming obsessed with both ends of that spectrum. We are obsessed with living perfect, photogenic lives and we are obsessed with the fucked up state of our world. That is the continuum we are stuck on, the continuum we bumble through. Our lives.

Of course, if you take the long view, what’s happening these days is actually the norm. The years between, say, 1950 and 2000 were actually an anomaly. In that era we had a rising middle class and politicians and captains of industry who at least gave lip service to serving their constituents and workers.

But that was just a bubble, a weird confluence of events that gave First World citizens hope and rising expectations. Before and after that bubble, though, our civilization was a lot tougher, a lot rougher. That was the norm.

Problem is, we (most of you reading this) came up in that bubble of more or less peace and prosperity. We think that that’s the way things are and should be.

Think again . . . or dream on.

PERMANENT

Coming to a conclusion, it seems to me, is one of the most difficult things in photography. To know when you’re done shooting, and to edit and sequence the images you have, to arrive at your point can be nerve-wracking.

Of course, if you put your edit online you can change your mind in a day or two, or in two months, no biggie . . . you just make the changes. With a photobook, on the other hand, once its printed there’s no going back,  it’s all locked down, permanent.

And that certainly sharpens your mind.

Now that enough money has been raised to turn After the Fact into a book I find myself in this place . . . finalizing my conclusion. Up to now it has just been a dummy. Image order, print quality, and a million design details were always in the back of my mind. Now I must move them forward, fret, second, third and fourth guess.

The zen dudes will tell you: “First thought, best thought”. In photography that most often, but not always, applies when you are there on the ground shooting. The edit/sequence process, though, requires a second and a third and a fourth and a hundredth thought. Shifting one image will cause a cascade of further changes, will skew meaning and flow, will alter the course of what’s come before and of what will follow.

So I’m having a hard, hard look at the “final” dummy of After the Fact (which I’m quite happy with) and intend to explore some nuances.

For instance, I remember when I was sequencing I was torn between these two images:

The top one is the one that’s in the dummy. The bottom one, I thought, too closely resembled an image which appears 3 or 4 pages later. But, seeing as there are repetitions and echos throughout the book, I’m now having a rethink.

Just like I’m having a final rethink about the whole thing. I’m nervous and excited and can hardly wait.

If you missed out on the Kickstarter you can still order the book here.

THAT FUNNY TIME

A few weeks ago I ended my post by saying: But, really, I’d rather be out in the world turning over stones, seeing what kind of bugs crawl out.

That post, in general, was about completing the exciting phase of a project and dealing with its commodification. I suppose some folks like the commodification aspects of photography, especially if they measure success by sales, accolades, and so on. Me, I find it mostly dull.

I mean, sure, there are some fun and rewarding aspects of bringing a project to its conclusion . . . I get to work with my hands, make prints and dummies,  hold stuff and figure out how to hone the work into its final shape.

But I miss going out into the world and, well . . . reacting.

So, while I’m still in the commodification phase of my last project I’m also in that funny time in any creative person’s life: between projects.

What’s next? I wonder.

I’ve been mulling it over, but not in an overt, front-of-my-brain way. More like letting thoughts percolate in the back of my brain and, every so often, I think to pay some attention to what’s going on back there.

Typically I spend 2 or 3 years on a project. The only way I can be engaged for such a long period is if I choose a subject/project that I’m genuinely interested in. Every new project begins (and continues) with a struggle for discovery and some attempt at understanding my relationship to that which I’m photographing. The fact that I look for more from the process than merely ending up with a bunch of new photographs complicates matters.

So I’m biding my time, secure in the belief that, sooner or later, something will come forward, assert itself, capture my attention.

But I’m in no hurry these days. I’ll just let it happen.

In the meantime . . . I garden.


SPOTS

There are still some spots available in my Master Classes. Check out last week’s post for a précis or go here for detail:

Deeper
Portraiture as Experience