More on flow and photography

I noticed some time ago that photography, which started for me as a hobby, rapidly lost it’s appeal when I began treating it as a business. This phenomenon is not unique to me, of course. Many photographers say that becoming a pro is a sure way to kill a perfectly fine hobby. It is not surprising either, since any job, no matter how fun it is, has some dreadful elements, buy definition of a job. These are things like deadlines and, more generally, the obligation to meet external expectations.

Lately, I’ve been listening to an audiobook called “Flow: living at the peak of your abilities” by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi, which is a collection of audio recordings of his lectures or seminars. It is not to be confused with the earlier-released book called “Flow: the psychology of optimal performance“. This earlier book, by the way, is one of my all-time favourites in the non-fiction genre. In the book am listening to now, I’ve come across another plausible explanation of why photography loses its appeal when it becomes a business. According to the “flow” theory, from an amateur’s standpoint, photography is an autotelic pursuit. That is, the activity itself constitutes its own reward and meaning. An amateur photographer takes pictures simply because it’s fun to do. It is exciting to learn new techniques and play with new gear. Even the process of transitioning to becoming a pro is initially fun, because it presents new challenges to overcome and things to learn. However, professional photography immediately introduces an additional set of goals , namely, making money and increasing the efficiency of the workflow. These business-related goals conflict with the original, creative goals of the photographer. The conflict can be subtle. For example, as I post-process a particular image and decide to learn some technique that I haven’t tried before, I might have a thought on the back on my mind: “Is this the best use of my time at this time? My processing workflow is good enough. Maybe, it would be better to plow though the rest of the images in this photoshoot., rather than fiddling with this one picture.” This is precisely the flow-breaking point. Instead of being fully concentrating on the creative task, which is learning new technique and increasing the complexity of my activity, my attention becomes split between what I am doing right now and what I could have been doing instead. I also become self-conscious, in the sense of starting to consider how what I do affects my image as a photographer.

The good news is that, according to Csikszentmihalyi, it is totally in my power to maintain flow, or at least maximize the amount of time spent in the flow state. After all, the attention split between the conflicting objectives happens entirely in my head. The trick, for the lack of a better word, is to convince myself to take interest in what needs to be done and to apply mental energy in order to increase the complexity of the activity at hand. For example, if a business-related task requires attention, it would be wise to make that the focus of the activity and strive to become really good at it. Conversely, it helps to recognize that the necessary attribute of an autotelic activity is that it needs to be done without any expectation of an external reward or future utility. It is certainly easier said than done, at least for me personally, but it does help to be reminded that “wasting time” on fun things is, upon consideration, not wasteful at all. In fact, it is often the best possible thing I can do.

Mind tricks for focus

There is a saying that anything worth doing is worth doing slowly. Certainly, there is a lot to be said about being able to focus on the details of the process, instead of rushing through it under the threat of a deadline or even under the awareness of the fact the the might be better spent doing something else. I’ve come across a technique for tricking myself into a more methodical working mode in a book “The Happiness Project” by Gretchen Rubin. She describes using a mantra “I am in jail” when working on a side project like setting up a website for a blog. The idea is to invoke a state of mind where it seems alright to spend as much time on the task at hand because there is nothing better to do at the moment and you have all the he time in the world to do it. It seems like simplistic mind trick to play on myself, but I find it surprisingly effective.

Intermittent reinforcement

Jump

I’ve been working on the photos from the year-end show of my daughter’s dance school. Processing thousands of photos that were all taken within two days of each other can be really boring rather monotonous. But coming across images like this, which I forgot I took, every now and then is what makes me want to keep going. “Every now and then” is the key point.

Something similar happens in golf, when I mostly play very poorly rather unremarkably but sometimes get to the green in one stroke. It doesn’t happen often at all, and that’s what makes me want to keep playing.

In dog training, this is called intermittent reinforcement. When a puppy has learned a trick or a command, he is no longer getting a cookie every time, but only once in a while, at random intervals. This makes him want to work and makes the learned skill more reliable.

Similarly, when I manage to capture a cool image, that’s an automatic “Good boy!” signal to me as a photographer. Hopefully, this motivation translates to more practice and, eventually, to some kind of qualitative change.

Anchors aweigh

Hip Hop

Shooting video

I find blogging to be a useful exercise for organizing my thoughts and formulating ideas for photoshoots, research projects, future travel, etc. Basically, it serve a purpose of note-taking. There is a concept, neatly outlined in Charles Duhigg’s book “Smarter Faster Better” that some kind of mechanism of capturing and periodically reviewing one’s observations and thoughts is an essential tool for learning. In other words, don’t just read a book – write down what you’ve just learned. Also, don’t just look at scenery – photograph (or better yet, draw) what you are seeing.

Somehow, shooting video makes for a drastically different experience for me than, say, taking still photos or writing down text notes. For example, videography seems to distract me from the experience of the present moment much more than still photography. Whatever happens on camera seems more like a performance than a real event. Intellectually, I realize that this is a false perception, and shooting video can also be viewed simply as a means of taking notes. In fact, the amount of information that is recorded in video is significantly larger than what’s captured in photos or written notes. I think the difference is that still photography and note-taking forms you to do some processing of the information on the fly and record only the most significant parts. In video, this is deferred to the post-processing stage, which incidentally makes the reviewing of the raw footage quite daunting.

Here is a couple of practical ways that come to mind for overcoming the apparent difficulty with producing video:
a) Shoot selectively, with at least a general meaning of each particular clip in mind.
b) Treat video as a note-taking tool, not as an artistic performance. Deliberately exercise a delay between capturing raw footage and making a movie.

Things I like

One of the things I look forward to every week is waiting for my daughter while she goes to an art lesson after school. I sit at a cafe next door to the studio, and the one hour I have there feels like a bonus time to catch up on things that usually get crowded our of my day. I am glad that she is doing something that she enjoys and that, at the same time, I can work on something without the pressure to be productive.

Surprisingly, productivity takes care of itself, probably because I don’t rush to finish anything in particular and can actually think about what I am doing. I can think about the paper I’ve been reviewing and how it relates to my own research instead of rushing to finish and submit the review, as I often do in the office during “regular” work hours. Or I feel free to play with photos on my phone or computer to explore new processing techniques. Or I can read my own notes on the books that I’ve read in the past. Sometimes, I surprise myself with the ideas that I had at the time, but completely forgotten.

Body of work

Yesterday after work, I had a five-hour long photo shoot of dance classes in a local studio. I shot around 3500 images, which take approximately 150 GB of hard drive space. I like shooting dance, and I have a personal interest in the subject, because my daughter goes to that dance school. I also like the fact that this a great opportunity to practice my action-shooting skills. Having said this, I am glad that I don’t do this kind of photography every day. In fact, I believe that shorter, but more regular and varied shoots are better for developing skills and creativity.

I recently heard about the value of creating a consistent body of work. I am not sure who said it, but I like the idea that what we do every day is more valuable than what we do every once in a while. For example, my yesterday’s shoot was a big one-time effort, but shooting daily, even a little bit, even just using my phone, is probably more important. Ironically, the next day after a big shoot I am reluctant to pick up the camera at all.

I can really relate to treating all projects not as one-off opportunities, but as stepping stones for creating a consistent body of work. Of course, as many useful concepts, it is a double-edged sword. On one hand, it removes pressure of “successful” performance from each individual project (e.g. a research grant proposal or journal paper submission). On the other hand, if you are always contributing to your body of work, you cannot slack off at any time because you might think a particular project at hand is relatively unimportant. You have to be always “on”, delivering your best work.

Learning from the master

Autumn_Tree copy

This is a tree that I see from my office window. I snapped a picture of it with my phone and did the drawing afterwards on an iPad.

I have been learning to draw from my six-year-old daughter. Not the technique per se, but to enjoy the drawing process itself. Children are masters of having fun, and my daughter’s drawing is a perfect example. She enjoys it so much that she goes right to her desk when she comes home, without even changing out of her school clothes. It doesn’t bother her at all that she might not have time to finish the picture, that she might get interrupted halfway through her project by us calling her to have dinner. In fact, she probably doesn’t view drawing in terms of projects at all. It is simply something to enjoy at the moment.

I find that emulating this attitude is not as easy at it sounds. The barriers that keep me from doing it are entirely imaginary. For example, when I was on sabbatical, I found time to sketch almost on a daily basis. I enjoyed it a lot and thought that it was a great exercise for developing observation skills. Now, when I am firmly back to my daily routine, I objectively don’t have any less time for sketching. In fact, I have even more opportunities – all my art supplies are right here in my house. Yet, somehow I hesitate to start something that I might not be able to finish, even though there is no external pressure to complete “the project” whatsoever.

So I am learning this child-like attitude from my daughter – taking action for the fun of it and not worrying about the result.

Cookie-cutter projects

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Over the long weekend, my daughter and I finally finished the soapstone carving project that we started almost a year ago. We bought a kit that contained a block of stone cut out in a rough shape of an orca. It looked exactly as if it was done with a cookie-cutter. In fact, it was made by hand using a scroll saw. We talked to the sculptor, who made these kits. He said that it took he quite a bit of trial and error to find the right dimensions of the cutout. But once it was done, it was matter of rounding the edges and smoothing the surface to produce a rather neat carved figure of an orca. The success was practically guaranteed, and a 6-7 year-old kid could produce a carving in a matter of hours.

In our defence, the reason it took us so long was that we had to leave the figure unfinished while we went to Europe for most of the year. All that was left to be done was to wax and buff the surface. We used a hair dryer to heat the stone orca (it became so hot that I had to hold it with a towel!) and rubbed it with a piece of wax, which was also in the kit. When the stone cooled down, we buffed the surface with a piece of cloth.

I wonder if it is the key to a successful and enjoyable creative project for beginners in any field: having the most time-consuming part pre-completed (e.g. providing a pre-cut rough shape of a statue with correct proportions), while leaving some room for creativity in terms of small details and finishing touches.

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This principle worked in a similar way, when my wife and daughter baked chocolate muffins to celebrate our daughter’s birthday at school. Both enjoyed the baking, largely because they used a store-bought mix for the dough.

Probably, this idea of having the hard work done is behind the enduring popularity of colouring books. After all, the outline is already there, with the proportions and the composition taken care of. All that is left is to have fun colouring the details.

University students sometimes complain that the projects they are doing in the labs are “cookie-cutter experiments”, meaning that the outcomes are predetermined, and there is no element of scientific discovery in their work. Perhaps, the instructors, who design the projects, need to find a balance between guiding the students by having some of the preliminary work done beforehand, but allowing enough uncertainty in the remaining process to enable sometimes-surprising results.

Then again, at some point someone would have to learn how to do the entire project from scratch, starting from the metaphorical rough piece of stone and finishing with a polished sculpture. There is a great pleasure in creating your own paintings instead of colouring within the lines all the time.

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Is multitasking avoidable?

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One of the tactics for productive writing (academic and other kinds) is separating the tasks of generating content and editing it. We commonly suggest to students to “write to a deadline” (even and artificial, self-imposed one) and then take time editing the article. John Irving said, “Rewriting is what I do best as a writer. I spend more time revising a novel or screenplay than I take to write the first draft.”

I am wondering is a similar principle can be applied to photography. Wouldn’t it be nice not to worry about exposure, colours, noise, even composition, during a photo shoot and only focus on capturing the moment or the model’s expression? Theoretically, everything except capturing the action can be delegated to the post-processing stage.

To some degree, we already do this in sports photography, where action is arguably more important than image quality. But this is only partially true. In fact, image quality is what separates great photos (even in sports) from mediocre ones. Image quality has many components: composition, subject isolation (from the background), sharpness, exposure, colour balance, noise level, etc. Some of these aspects, like sharpness and composition, have to be taking care of at the time of shooting, at least with the currently available hardware and software. Other aspects, like choice of equipment, shooting angles, need to be addressed even earlier.

Photography is, fundamentally, capturing the light, and if it is not done (mostly) right, there won’t be another opportunity to do it. Even with staged shoots, it is never possible to “enter the same river twice,” figuratively speaking.

In research, we tell the students that an experiment is only valid if it is repeatable, but I wonder if this is ever the case if we consider the physical phenomenon in its entire complexity and not a subset of conditions that constitute the model or hypothesis being tested.

UVPCS Christmas Cracker swimming competition. December 7, 2013 (apshutter.com)

The purpose of travel blogging

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I have been thinking about the purpose of blogging. I like the idea that daily writing, or any creative process for that matter, is an integral part of forming the thoughts and opinions. In other words, you don’t actually know what you really think about a particular topic until you capture your thoughts in writing. A similar concept applies to capturing visual impressions in photos, paintings, etc.

Incidentally, sometimes we can formulate opinions and understanding by “talking them out” instead. I heard that Hemingway used to do this with his books. Here lies a bit of danger: unless you are as good as Hemingway, talking about your creative ideas might actually prevent you from writing about them (or painting them or doing the photo shoot). It can happen because talking does serve the purpose of fleshing out the ideas, but it is much easier than creating something persistent and tangible, like a pice of writing or an object of visual art. I believe this is why Seth Godin’s advice to writes is to keep their mouths shut about their book ideas until they actually have the books published and thus ready to be discussed.

Also, blogging is different from journalling, because the latter is private (and has a unique usefulness precisely because of that), while the former offers a way to practice expressing the ideas publicly.

Then, there might be an inherent usefulness of blogs to the audience, beyond mere entertainment. For example, yesterday, I was thrilled to discover that one of the first web publications I have read when I was a graduate student (which, given my age relative to the age of the Internet, makes it one of the first web publications, period), Philip Greenspun’s “Travels with Samantha” is still online and, as far as I remember, is in it’s original format. This is a travel blog/photo blog that was written before either of these terms existed. In retrospect, reading it, as well as photo.net, which was Greenspun’s personal website at the time (and the format and the content of which has changed significantly over the years), was a significant experience for me..

The mere fact that I still remember “Travels of Samantha” after all these years means that it must have had some effect on me. The rudimentary early ideas of mobile computing, my interest in hardware and gadgets, the interest in photography and my approach to it – they were shaped by Greenspun’s travel notes and photos. All these connections were completely hidden from me at the time.

Perhaps this blog might also turn out to be useful for someone in some mysterious way.

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