Vulnerability vs. helpfulness

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In teaching, relating the teacher’s personal experience with the material, including initial failures or struggles in learning it, is an important tool for establishing a working connection with the students. This is relevant to teaching in a general sense, not necessarily limited to the scope of academe. For example, in the context of photography, I find that showing some vulnerability by making it clear that I am in the process of learning the craft, helps avoid appearing as a know-it-all. Of course, this applies to interactions with other photographers, and not with clients or models, with whom projecting confidence in one’s skills is of paramount importance.

On the other hand, to instil confidence in the students and to be genuinely helpful, the teacher must make it clear (either explicitly or implicitly) early in the interaction that he/she know the answer to the problem at hand or is well underway towards finding the solution in the case of an open-ended, complex issues. In any case, discussing past personal struggles would not appear helpful, if it comes out as whining, instead of deliberately chosen example of learning from one’s experience.

Some examples of good balance between vulnerability and helpfulness are writings of James Altucher, such as “The Power of No,” which is largely based on his personal stories.

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Seeing the big picture

Aerial view of the Niagara Falls. Ontario.Canada. June 7, 2012.

“You should not have a favorite weapon. To become over−familiar with one weapon is as much a fault as not knowing it sufficiently well.”

– Miyamoto Musashi, “The Book of Five Rings

In my academic research, I am often faced with a choice of exploring a new subject or focussing deeper on my core area of expertise. It is the well-known dilemma of specializing versus generalizing. Professional photographers face the same question when they decide to niche down on a specific subject or remain generalists.

Tim Ferriss, who wrote a very popular book about learning called “The 4-Hour Chef,” made compelling arguments for being a generalist. Specifically, being proficient in many areas allows one to see the big picture, recognize and explore connections and similarities between these areas. Aspiring to be the “jack of all trades and master of many”, as Ferris puts it, is also inherently more fun, and thus more conducive to happiness in daily life than forcing yourself to niche down for the sake of rapidly diminishing returns on your investment of effort in one specific activity.

I think that being a professional photographer, but not investing your entire identity into it, paradoxically, makes you a better photographer in the long term. This is somewhat similar to budo, the way of the martial arts, following which on a certain (high) level requires exploring other human activities, learning about human nature  and applying this knowledge to one’s core area of expertise. In fact, Minamoto Musashi,  who stated the principles for following the Way of Strategy in his “Book of Five Rings” (Go Rin no Sho), instructs: “Become aquatinted with every art.” and “Develop intuitive judgement and understanding for everything.”

Weaver

Developing a unique style

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Technical proficiency is a foundation of any activity, including all genres of photography, but it is deviations from the conventional standards that constitutes a unique, personal style. That is, until other people start to imitate them. Then, the style becomes popular and eventually turns into a new mainstream.

I came across a very insightful interview with Dan Carlin, who publishes a fascinating podcast called “Hardcore History.” I learned about Carlin by listening to “Wrath of the Khans” – a refreshing alternative to revisionist descriptions of the Mongol invasions (e.g. “Genghis Khan and the Making of the Modern World.”) In the interview, Carlin talkes about “copyrighting your shortcomings” (not an exact quote), making them part of the personal brand. In other words, our unique ways of doing things are the essence of our personal styles. In a similar spirit, tea bowls used in Japanese tea ceremony are sometimes deliberately cracked or chipped to give them unique appearance and character. Therefore, in the spirit of turning weaknesses into strengths, it is advisable to work on developing a personal style, rather that trying to imitate someone else.

This argument perfectly translates to photography. Often, deviation from conventional “rules” of composition, lighting, colour management and exposure results in interesting images. Initially, this habits by chance, but by critically analyzing why a particular image “works” (or not) and attempting to reproduce or enhance the same effect in later photographs, we can develop a unique, personal style.

I believe that the difference between the interesting photos that are results of blind luck (and often lack of the technical skill) and the ones that are an expression of a unique style of the artist is that the latter are created deliberately. This concept is similar to kendo, where a strike is considered “valid” (yuko datotsu) when it is executed with intention.

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Importance of teaching

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I wrote before about involving people in photoshoots by asking them to model, assist or critique my work. It is especially beneficial to collaborate with other photographers, who are at different levels in terms of their technical skills, creative ability and career. This variety of levels enables one to learn and, just as important, to teach.

In kendo, the continuing development of the technical skill and the philosophical understanding of the way of the sword can be represented by the following diagram. I first learned about it in a kendo seminar, and since then have been using it in my main work as a university professor. I believe the principles apply equally well to photography and, probably, any other serious pursuit in life that involves development of a skill.

Learning diagram

  • Learning. This is the first stage of the skill development cycle (yes, ultimately it is a never-ending cycle – think about “life-long learning”, a concept that is a bit over-used in academe these days) –  acquisition of information. It can take a form of reading a book, being taught by a teacher or a senior colleague/student, etc.
  • Processing. In order to make use of the acquired information, we must internally process it, make it “our own”. Examples of this, from different fields, are working through homework assignments or research papers, practicing kendo techniques (waza) until they can be performed correctly and without thinking, practicing different lighting techniques in photography, etc.
  • Teaching. This is a less obvious stage, but it is critically important. In order to continue our own development and avoid stagnation at a certain level, we need to share what we learned with others. Teaching requires deep analysis of the subject and communication skills. In order to transmit our knowledge to others, we have to identify the the essence of it.

The arrow that connects “Teaching” and “Learning” in the diagram is very interesting. At some point in teaching, we begin to learn from our students. In a sense, they become our teachers, and the cycle continues. In kendo, this aspect is acknowledged in a very direct way, when both the sensei and the student bow to each other. In photography, I am always grateful when I have an opportunity to answer someone’s question or when someone teaches something to me.

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