Deliberate study vs. intuitive experience

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Continuing reading Cal Newport’s “So Good They Can’t Ignore You”, I realized that most points that resonate with me are the ones that I have come across before, sometimes several times, but that have fallen off my radar (not forgotten exactly, but I stopped being actively aware of them). This reinforces the idea to keep notes of the main points from the books I read.

One of these good/interesting points in the Newport’s book is the notion that not only the quantity of practice matters (e.g. the 10,000-hour rule popularized by Malcolm Gladwell in “Outliers”), but also it’s quality. Of course this is a bit of a truism, and more than that, it has been specifically brought up by Hayashi-sensei (kendo 8th dan hanshi) at a seminar a few years ago. As most kendo-related teachings, it applies not only to kendo to nearly everything else in life. Newport is being a bit more specific by introducing a classification of practice into serious study (“deliberate practice” in Anders Ericsson’s terms) and intuitive practice.

Since time is a non-renewable resource, everyone who wants to develop a skill faces a dilemma – to do a serious study “for the sole purpose of improving specific aspects of an individual’s performance” or to practice intuitively by applying whatever skills one has at his/her current level of development. Newport’s example is related to chess: studying the books with a teacher vs. playing in tournaments. This is a true dilemma (i.e. there is no single right answer), but the studies across various fields apparently show that serious study is necessary (although maybe not sufficient) for becoming a “grand master”.

The problem with intuitive experience is that in real-life, applied situations such as chess or kendo tournaments, routine photo shoots, academic research, etc., the challenge is either decidedly above or decidedly below your current ability. In both situations “skill improvement is likely to be minimized”. In deliberate study, on the other hand, there is an opportunity to choose a challenge that is appropriate for the skill level (incidentally, this is typically a teacher’s job).

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Practice vs. play

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Many Japanese kendo sensei call kendo practitioners “players”. Intuitively, I always thought that something is wrong with this word in the kendo context, something was rubbing me the wrong way when kendoka were called anything other that this Japanese word. “Swordsman” seems to Westernized, and “kenshi” is somehow too pretentious.

Now, as I am reading Cal Newport’s “So Good They Can’t Ignore You“, I think I understand the reason for this fidelity loss due to translation. About 1/3 of the way into the book, he explores the difference between playing and practicing, as it applies to becoming a craftsman. The difference is that practice implies “constantly stretching your abilities”. This also implies discomfort, or rather, training to become used to discomfort. Playing, on the other hand, is pure fun.

When I read it, at first I thought that this contradicted the hypothesis that a “gamers mindset” is highly beneficial for developing a skill. Thinking about it a bit further, perhaps there is no real contradiction. The gamers mindset also involves challenging oneself, only the stakes are not high and the learning curve is not steep – both of these factors keep the process enjoyable.

In fact, even in kendo, a seventh-dan sensei at a recent seminar explained that being able to anticipate the opponent’s action allows his to remain relaxed, because the whole match becomes like a game. It goes something like this: there are only so many ways a human can move once he/she is committed to a particular type of attack. Once the opponent’s attack is recognized and categorized into a particular kind (which happens subconsciously, due to an incredible amount of practice), there is no need to rush to make a decision or flinch – the correct action (counter-attack) has already been pre-determined and all is left is to let it happen as if by itself. The process actually becomes fun in some sense.

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Craftsman mindset

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I have come across Cal Newport’s book “So Good They Can’t Ignore You” for the second time in the past year. First time, it was through his blog on study hacks, second – through an inspiring interview with Derek Sivers. So I finally decided to read the book, although I have become largely disillusioned with non-fiction literature (I think, storytelling is the key to transmitting really fundamental ideas, but this is beside the point).

This book is surprisingly interesting. It’s about career-building, and the main idea is that trying to find a dream job by following one’s passion is bad idea; instead, one should become remarkably good at whatever he/she is doing for living, and the passion will follow.

One curious point at the beginning of the book is the contrast between the craftsman mindset, where one is concerned with adding value to the product of the work, and the passion mindset, where one is focused on maximizing of the value that the work can bring to him-/herself. In the case of the craftsman, the action precedes the passion. Interestingly, this is in line with the main recommendation of Robert Boice to university professors – start writing before you are ready, certainly before all experiments are completed and the data is analyzed.

There are some definite advantages to adopting the craftsman mindset. It removes the psychological pressure to be completely satisfied with the job, which is impossible to achieve anyway, considering the wide ranges of work subjects, conditions, contexts, etc. Instead it affords a kind of stoic clarity: this is what I get, so I will work with it to polish my skills (altimately, myself). Basically, this comfort comes from conceding control (which we didn’t really have anyway) over the fact whether we like every single detail of the work and every particular moment.

It is almost redundant to explain how this principle applies to photography. Photography is a craft by definition, so it pays off going out and shooting, instead of questioning whether you have the right gear, the right conditions, or whether this is the right calling for you. Especially if you are a pro, the questions will be rendered moot because you will soon be out of the job if you are not constantly working on developing your skills.

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Spontaneous vs. generative work

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Robert Boice, in his book “Professors as Writers”, explains how spontaneous writing is helpful for getting unblocked, unstuck, and warmed up, which is crucial for establishing a daily writing habits.

However, at some stage, spontaneous writing, as helpful as it is in working around the self-consciousness and self-censorship, becomes counter-productive for precisely that reason: spontaneous work by itself does not produce coherent, finished results. What tis needed at that stage is a healthy dose of what Boice calls generative writing. It is still quite free-form, unconstrained and not particularly concerned with perfection of style and logic, but it is focussed on a particular topic. In order to maintain the flow of ideas, Boice suggests alternating between spontaneous and generative work.

I can see clear parallels between this “academic writer’s” workflow and that of a photographer. Writer’s block is a problem so common, despite the debates of its reality, that books have been written on how to overcome it. In photography, it is equally easy to become paralyzed and never start creative projects because of perfectionism (reluctance to start under imperfect conditions, without “ideal” gear, sufficient time, etc. or reluctance to share less-than-perfect images with others), self-doubt or impatience (rushing to complete the projects and not allowing ourselves to slow down in order to produce better, more significant work).

For photographers, the spontaneous work is carrying a camera (even a phone camera) and shooting everything that we come across and that catches our attention. There should be no goal to eventually share the images with anyone. The practice of observation and of taking photos is the goal in itself.

Then, in order to make tangible developments of our skills, by analogy with the writers in Boice’s book, the photographers would benefit from periodically doing more structured shoots involving more elaborate production. Those could be projects focussed on a particular theme or a technique.

For me personally, the projects involving local dancers or athletes from our university provide opportunities to do generative work. Making sure that spontaneous work is happening on the daily basis is proving to be more challenging.

As a side note, another aspect of photography, which doesn’t readily fall into spontaneous/generative classification is post-processing and development of skills and creative techniques related to it. Perhaps, it similar to some type of supporting work (e.g. referencing) that writers have to to in their craft, and since the the writing craft appears to be fairly well-researched, I am looking forward to learning about it.

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Words and images: a picture that is worth a thousand words

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My daughter likes listening to stories, but sometimes, she prefers just to look at pictures in books. This made me think about which form of content is more valuable for people: verbal or visual. Obviously, neither form can completely substitute the other one, but each has unique features.

Written stories (books) are best at stimulating imagination. Reading a book implies a collaborating between the author and the reader: it is impossible to provide all details of the story in words, so the reader has to use his/her imagination or project prior experience to fill in the gaps. So the impression of the given book is necessarily different for everyone, who reads it.

I think what makes visual images (paintings, photos, etc.) unique is that they have direct access to the viewer’s emotions. Generally, text is not enough to generate sensory perception of the scene. That is why war documentaries are important for indicting compassion towards the people involved in the wars, for example.

So, illustrated stories, which is a common format of children’s books is a perfect format for engaging the audience. This is a strong argument for taking time to write extended captions for photos that we post on social media (Flickr, Instagram, etc.) Alternatively, a good photoblog can be a series of photos accompanied by stories, rather than a simple gallery of images (social networks like 500px or Instagram can fill that nice more effectively).

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Virtual communities

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In his 2012 novel “Reamde“, Neal Stephenson describes a community of hackers that is “post-web and post-email.” They operate and communicate within a multiplayer computer game, forming complex networks that have implications in the physical world.

I am fascinated with how human communities evolve from physical to virtual ones, and which elements of the old models persist through this evolution. For photographers, for example, this has had some real implications already – our photographs are rarely viewed in any other media, but on a backlit screen. As Flickr, Instagram, Pinterest, etc. wax and wane, they are going to leave some of their elements for the future virtual communities. It would be nice to be able predict what those elements of future visual (and other types) of communication would be…

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Children’s books

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My three-year-old daughter loves books. Some of her favourites are “Lost and Found” and “Up and Down” by Oliver Jeffers. Because she likes them so much, I started paying attention to them myself and became fascinated with the illustrations and how masterfully they complement the story.

At first, I could not quite put my finger on what makes Jeffers’ images so special. Now, I think that it is how he uses negative space. Both in his text and pictures, what is not shown (or said) is at least as important as what is.

Couple of days ago, I came across Jeffers’ “Once Upon an Alphabet” at a bookstore and liked it so much that I had to buy it, even though it is still too advanced for my daughter’s age. This made me think that books and illustrations (as well as music) that are originally aimed at children and span several generations are probably some of the most important contributions to society that an artist (or writer, or musician) can make, because the audience is at its most perceptive and innocent state.

Not being so presumptuous as to aim for “a giant leap for mankind” with my photographs, as an experiment, I will try to (a) look for subjects/themes that a child could relate to and (b) work more with negative space in my composition.

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Avoiding mental attachments

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“…sometimes good things fall apart so better things can fall together.”

– Marilyn Monroe

Although planning is a crucial part of a photo production, things often do not go according to the plan during the actual photo shoot. This is not always a bad thing (some believe that anything that happens, happens for a reason), but it is important to mentally flexible if such situation occurs.

Recently, I came across some interviews and writings of Josh Waitzkin, who had a very successful career as an international-level chess player and is also an accomplished material artist (he trained in Brazilian jiu-jitsu under the instruction of the phenomenal Marcelo Garcia). Josh talks about mental attachment to past decision and how to avoid it.

To explain a mental attachment using a chess example, assume that I looked at a position on the board and decided to implement a certain combination. As the game unfolds, the opponent tries to implement his/her own plan, which changes the situation – what used to be a good plan, becomes not so good, because the objective situation has changed. (This is what makes chess and martial arts so much like real life.) If I stay mentally attached to the original plan of action, my own actions would make the situation worse, because they would be out-of-touch with the objective reality. In martial arts also, one of the fundamental concepts is to be present in the moment, “read” the opponent and not to be absorbed by one’s own thoughts and fears.

I believe that like any fundamental skill, mental flexibility in the face of unexpected changes requires practice. In photography, for example, if my arsenal of shooting and lighting techniques is fairly diverse, I would be able to adjust my shooting if the location, models or props do not work the way it was planned.

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Value of education

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Recently I heard and read many prominent entrepreneurs, such as Peter Thiel, co-founder of Pay-Pal and the author of the highly regarded book on startups “Zero to One” or Richard Branson, expressing very critical views of traditional, academic education. Thiel has completed both college and law school, while Branson never went to college, so the view seems to be relatively independent of their personal background. And of course, it is not just these two famous people, who believe that the conventional education is deeply flawed and, in a nutshell, one should take responsibility for his/her own learning. This view is so popular, that sometimes after seeing various infographics online, it seems that dropping out of school is requirement for success.

I think that this certainly applies to someone, who wants to become a photographer nowadays. The technology and the whole paradigm of content creation and production are developing so fast, that I cannot see how a school curriculum can truly keep up with it. Beside, there is a vast amount of resources available online and in print, so one only needs to be willing to learn.

Having said that, I see a huge benefit in formal education. Taking the example of photography, I think it would be of great benefit for a future professional to take formal classes in communications and business, not to mention fine art.

While Peter Thiel appears not to hold learning for the sake of learning in high regard, I believe that learning how to learn (note the difference) is very valuable. From the historical perspective, brilliant individuals like Thiel, Branson or Musk would always exist. They become personally successful and make great contributions to society. However, this kind of brilliance of a few individuals is different from the intellectual and creative potential of a sizeable slice of the population – people, who accumulated this capacity through receiving the highest possible education, often over multiple generations (i.e. children benefitting from the education received by parents). No doubt, maintaining the highest level of education for a large part of the population is very expensive for society. This is partly because this kind of educational system is more or less equally open to a wide range of individuals. Of course, one could argue that the higher education is very competitive, but the system certainly serves not just the highly capable and motivated people like Thiel or Musk. As Tolstoy’s character from “Anna Karenina” Konstantin Levin  said about multiple generations of educated aristocrats, “talent and intellect, of course is another matter.” Perhaps, education is valuable precisely because the society benefits from it, even in an indirect way, even if an individual, who receives the education, doesn’t realize that he/she needs it.

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Switching off problem-solving by reading books

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Recovery is an important part of physical training, and it is also crucial for intellectual and creative work. However, turning off mental problem-solving is quite challenging. Tim Ferris, the author of the famous “4-Hour Workweek” mentioned in his podcast that he read fiction for an hour before bedtime to change his mindset. I have been trying to do the same, although even a leisurely pursuit like this apparently requires some discipline.

The book I am currently reading is “Reamde” by Neal Stephenson. I am enjoying it quite a bit, even though I cannot help constantly comparing it with his, very different in many respects, cult classic “Cryptonomicon.”

I find that another good way to re-focus mental activity is to look at the photographs on 500px. Doing so is very refreshing not only at the end of the day, but any time there are a few minutes that cannot be used otherwise, thanks to a smartphone or a tablet that I almost always have with me. In fact, I am looking forward to enjoying both photos and e-books on the great screen of my shiny (and huge) new iPhone 6 plus. At the first glance, the reading experience is much improved, compared to the old iPhone 5. Stephen King suggested to always have a book handy, and thanks to the ever-evolving technology, I have many of them in my (largest) pocket.


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