Back in July, I saw a story from someone I follow on Instagram that got me thinking. They posted a sticker where people could give an answer and above it it read, “Help me fall back in love with photography”. I’m sure there were plenty of people that answered and had some really good insights to give. I, however, didn’t answer because I’m not sure I had an answer back then. Rather, I opened a note in my phone and started writing things down, revisiting it every now and then, hoping some of those things I wrote down could be helpful for you, reader, if you ever come to the point where you fall “out of love” with your craft.
But, before we get to the things that could help us fall back in love with photography, we need to ask ourselves why we fell out of it in the first place. Maybe yet, did we fall out of love with it or is it just not treating us like we thought?
1. Expectation of reciprocation.
Transactional relationships don’t last and this includes the relationship you have with your art. The expectation can never be the foundation. If we build our art on what we hope it reciprocates for us we build it on something it was never meant to provide. The likes, opportunities, the social status, the views, or the money will never be enough. A lot of times, art will first reciprocate itself inwardly specifically to the artist then externally through relatability.
2. Feeling left behind
When we’re tempted to feel as if we’re going to be left behind in the creative world we feel the need to constantly create something. Constantly creating is not the key to making good art. Often times this is how a section of the art world becomes over saturated with shallow art, and can run in the same vein as “fast fashion”. Not to mention it’s exhausting to be constantly creating something. We need time to just live. To take in the experiences around us. And then let those experiences be communicated through what we create. The ability that your art has to relate to someone or multiple people will always outlast the latest trend.
3. Seeing is (not) believing
This one can kind of fall into the first category, but I think there’s a different aspect that we can dive into here. As artists, we want to be seen. We want our work to be seen. And there’s nothing wrong with that. We make art to put out into the world to be seen by other people. When our work is seen by others and taken well, we tend to recognize that as a success. Which it most certainly can be. But on the other hand, there’s a temptation to feel as if we failed when our work is not seen or not taken well by others. And there’s nothing more discouraging than the feeling of being looked over. The discouragement seems to linger the longer we base the success of our art on how it’s received or on how many people see it.
Rick Rubin has this great quote in his book, The Creative Act: A Way of Being, which reads, “Failure is the information you need to get to where you’re going.” Now, just because your work wasn’t received well or wasn’t seen by the masses doesn’t make it a failure. But there are times when we will fail. We will make bad art, whatever the medium. The more we fail, the more information we have to get to the place where we want to go. The more information we have, the more precise we can become in our craft.
Practicalities
I’ve felt or experienced each one of the above points in some way, shape, or form. And I’m sure you have too. The following points are things that have helped me. These are quick practical things to do that may or may not work for you. But maybe they will stir up other ways to help you fall back in love with your craft.
1. Get off social media for a bit.
Social media seemed to drain my inspiration rather than feed it. Not only that, but social media, when left unchecked, can create fomo, exhaustion from the pressure to create for the algorithm, and cause a continuous cycle of self comparison.
2. Put the camera away.
Don’t pick up the camera for a few days. Instead, let the desire to start photographing again grow organically. Notice the moments when you “miss” the camera. The moments where you really wish you had the camera on you. Be in that moment without taking a photo. This helps me realize yet again how important the camera actually is to document the world around us.
3. Go back through old work
Going back through old work shows progress, brings back memories and nostalgia, and reminds you of lessons learned. Reviewing your own work teaches you how to grow and get better as an artist while also helping you remember what that moment felt like.
4. Take photos with your first ever camera
In contrast with the second point, taking photos with your first ever camera could also stir up nostalgia from when you first started photography. When doing this, don’t have an agenda, just let the photos come naturally. Sometimes getting back to the basics of our craft will help push us forward.
5. Keep a journal
Recently I read another Substack from Susanne Helmert who writes My Morning Muse. Susanne wrote about the Daybooks of Edward Weston which contains excerpts from his journal about being a photographer. In this Weston shares his struggles of being a photographer and finding his voice. Keeping a journal could help serve you in the future when going through creative ruts in the future.
6. Have someone you trust review your work
Lastly, try putting together a portfolio of sorts for someone to review. This person needs to be someone you trust and that can be honest with you. Critique is something that’s lacking but can be priceless when it comes to giving you motivation to keep getting better at your craft. Critique also helps you see things that you’d miss otherwise. Sometimes we are blind to things we need to work on, and if we keep hearing the same comments from people in the context of social media, our photography will reach its peak at, “that’s fire bro.”
September’s Print
You may be wondering how this month’s print fits in with the theme of this post.
It doesn’t.
This is just a photo that I really liked that I took at Lake Willoughby in Vermont a few weeks back. It’s the first thing I printed when we got back from our trip. I think the contrast in perspective and between the shadows and the light serve this photo really well.
Moving forward into October in a few days, I’d love to hear feedback from the practicalities I mentioned above if you’ve tried any of them before. I’d also love to hear other ways that have helped you in the past fall back in love with you craft.
While we are on the subject of feedback, if you have any feedback for Negative Space I’d love to hear from you! This is a growing publication and I’m always open to ways on how to improve. There are a few aesthetic things that I have in the works that I hope to be implementing in October which I’m excited to share to help improve consistency and, for lack or a better word, “vibe”.
I truly hope this post was helpful and I hope to hear from some of you in the coming months ahead.
Cheers,
Andrew
Of course! Thanks so much for the encouragement. Photobooks are are definitely a great way to stir up inspiration!
Numbers 2, 4, 5, & 6 are things I do all the time (all the time being every now and then haha), but I am definitely someone who doesn't touch the camera unless I feel an urge to do so. It's funny, now that I am not working and I have all this free time I feel less compelled to photograph than when I was working and only had a small amount of photo time available after work or on weekends and that rush to try to fill that available time was often frustrating because a lot of it felt forced like I "had" to make good use of that time. Fast forward to know and I am in this strange place where part of me is calling me a loser for not being "productive" with all this free time, but another part of me is feeling more fulfilled in the last couple of months with just taking pictures in the backyard whenever a urge hits me to go outside and look around. I've come to appreciate the smallest things in the last three months with just photographing in a small space like a door that's not usually open being open, a new car parked in a odd spot, the budding if new plants, a new hope the dog dug and so on. Often I'll just be sitting around and then it just hits me, go outside, grab the camera, and somehow these intuitive moments generally relate to one of these moments where something "new" is happening in the garden space or outside of it. Great newsletter, so many great insights and good ideas! Thank you for sharing!