My thoughts on the craft, the process and the subjects
For a part-time photographer, finding time for photo projects is not always easy, as the main job, not to mention family and other obligations, demand a lot of time. I am fortunate that in my case, photography became an integral part of work, family life and martial arts studies.
Finding and cultivating this skill set is inherently difficult and can (and probably should) take the entire lifetime. I think that perhaps examining the tools that we use in everyday life can give an indication of what our personal trade is or could be (at this particular time, anyway).
The problem with this analysis is that we do many things. I my case, for example, the activities range from teaching and research to photography, calligraphy and kendo. Each area has its own tools, which often change in line with technology. Some patterns stand out, though. Most of the tolls that I have been using consistently since elementary school have something to do with either visual or written communication – books, pens and pencils, brushes and paints, photo cameras. I wonder if this general tool set is an indication of what my particular “trade skill” is or simply has to do with how the modern society functions, communication being at the foundation of most human activities.
To me personally, one of the most appealing aspects of doing photography part-time is the ability to limit the photo projects only to those that are interesting from the creative standpoint. These projects are often not the most viable commercially, but I don’t have to forgo them in favour of more profitable, but often boring shoots, that would certainly feel more like a job rather than fun.
Of course, in theory, a job does not have to be boring. In academe, for example, the combination of teaching (which can be very rewarding in its own right) and research continues to fascinate me even after doing it for a few years. Still, with a “real” job come obligations, which tend to spoil whatever leisure we might have. As Allan Watts puts it in “The Wisdom of Insecurity
With the abundance of learning materials available in various forms (books, online tutorials, course notes, etc.) the question of whether a human teacher is necessary for learning any particular subject comes up more and more often. I encounter this in the engineering courses that I teach, and in photography, kendo and calligraphy that I learn.
I think that elementary aspects of many (if not all) activities can be learned independently (from books, etc.), but at some (relatively high) level, the social aspects become important. To be more precise, I think that a teacher can make a substantial difference at the very beginning of the learning process, by teaching the fundamentals in a “correct” way, and at a relatively advanced stage, after some “homework” or internal processing has been done by the student, by providing feedback and calibrating the newly developed approaches, skills and techniques (and sometimes, the underlying values and motivations).
Photography is generally viewed as an expensive hobby, the primary expense being the cost of the equipment. For professional photographers, both full- and part-time, this is an even more important concern, because their gear has to represent the state-of-the-art for the photos to have a chance for being competitive in the very crowded market. The initial expense of entering into photography is there reason that there exists the whole industry that supports (or is supported by, depending on your point of view) by both pro and amateur photographers. The high cost of the hobby is also one of the main reasons why amateurs want to explore photography as a business.
I think that, unfortunately, this argument only applies to pure art, with no applied aspect (commercial or scientific, for example.) In order to be competitive either in business of photography or in its scientific application, using state-of-the-art technology is a must. Even from a purely artistic perspective, if, hypothetically, the cost is not an issue, why wouldn’t we consider pushing the limits of high-speed motion, low-light conditions, harsh environment, microscopic scale, etc. that the technology allows us to explore? In reality, cost is always an issue. I have to deal with financial constraints both when setting up budgets for new research projects in our lab (we do use high-speed photography in our fluid mechanics research) and when choosing what gear to use for my photo shoots.
Not all types of photography are equally expensive, but action and sports photography, which is what I do most often these days, certainly is. Incidentally, here is a nearly ideal (and very expensive) combination of Canon cameras and lenses that my friend and associate has been using for soccer matches:
body with a 500mm f/4L lens
; body with a 70-200mm f/2.8L IS
lens (I also use this combination or, more often, a 300mm f/2.8L IS
lens);
body with a 16-35mm f/2.8L
lens.
Our calligraphy submission for official grading, the first one since resuming practice after a substantial break, is completed. I am submitting a mandatory kaisho (formal script) of the specified assignment and an optional gyosho (semi-formal script) of the same text (see images above and below, respectively).
I think there might be an analogy for many other life activities here (these kinds of Zen-based Japanese “Ways” – kendo, shodo, etc. tend to have plenty of them.) Achieving a perfectly balanced state at any isolated moment of time is often exceedingly difficult and (as a result) stressful, but if we are willing to sacrifice the absolute immediate balance by recognizing that there will be plenty of opportunities to apply small corrections, the result can be a smooth and even graceful ride. The important thing, of course, is to avoid excessively large deviations from the balanced condition, which could lead to an unstable situation when recovery is no longer possible.
The last remaining authority, the one the sits inside our head, is a tough one, though. I think the reason is that we associate ourselves with what we do so closely, that somehow our jobs (not necessarily the paid ones that we do to make a living, but practically any activity) subjectively become our identities. Although this may have nothing to do with reality, there is a real resistance to trying new things that we create for ourselves. In my experience, I sometimes have to consciously convince myself that trying a new kind of shoot, instead of “perfecting” the one(s) that I am already familiar with, would be fun (and almost always is, following the theory that new and challenging activities are most fulfilling).
The benefits of exploring new activities are definitely worth overcoming the internal resistance. For example, although sports photography was distinctly new, challenging and uncomfortable for me after starting initially in the landscape genre, shooting sports opened up an incredibly fun and rewarding area and generally prompted my interest in photographing people.
Gretchen Rubin, who wrote “The Happiness Project
I think that, by extension, photographing children (following the development of the same child over time) is an excellent long-time project. It develops the photography technique, provides a way to connect with the child and creates a cumulative record of memories that the child would be able to access later in life. Incidentally, having this visual reference is tremendously important for forming a post-factum impression of one’s childhood, since visual images can shape our memories.
According to many psychologists, most satisfying activities are either new, challenging or both. The problem with doing challenging things, of course, is that the probability of failure is high. When we worry about failing, we tend to postpone the activity, reduce its frequency, over-plan and over-analyze past results.
Importance of practicing a difficult activity often, rather than shying away from it because of the fear of failure, is the reason why many top professional photographers say that one of the most important things for any photographer is to keep shooting new and challenging personal projects, even though they might not directly lead to commercial opportunities. After all, the difficulty and the novelty of such projects is what makes photography such a rewarding and satisfying activity for both pros and amateurs.
Photography projects can be broadly categorized into front- and back-loaded ones in terms of production process. The former involve elaborate setup and production prior and during the photo shoot, while the latter rely on more extensive post-processing. I believe that the back-loaded workflow has many advantages, particularly when working with amateur models.
If the photo shoot itself feel simple and not stressful, the models are more likely to act naturally in front of the camera. If possible, the majority of the taken photos could be candid portraits, perhaps with natural lighting. If such candid photo sessions are done using state-of the-art equipment (cameras and lenses), and if the photographer has solid technical skills and a sense of lighting and composition, the resulting image quality would still be quite high, particularly considering the expensive post-processing phase that would follow.
I think that a combination of a low-key photo shoot and high-end, creative processing often results in the photos that pleasantly surprise the models, particularly non-professionals. A good example of when this workflow works well is concert or performance photography. I find that the performers like seeing striking, attractive images of themselves, especially because they were not focussed on looking good at the time of the shoot, but were in their element – dancing, singing, etc. Perhaps, realizing this, conveys a message that people don’t have to try too hard to look “good” (substitute “cool”, “tough”, “sexy”, “strong” as appropriate), but that they are already seen that way from the outside.
