Creative: Japan By The Numbers

In the words of The Highlander, “There can be only one.” Love this. Not two, just one. Who needs more, really? You could argue this is a bit extreme when it comes to photography. There might be a single best image, but that may or may not be enough to tell the story. But like the Highlander and those opposed to him, you gotta cull the herd to find who deserves to live. When it comes to photography, this should be your mantra.

In keeping with Hollywood references, another of my favorite on-screen moments comes via Almost Famous, Cameron Crowe’s autobiographical picture about his upbringing in the music industry. In one scene, William Miller speaks with San Diego music writer Lester Bangs. Bangs tells Miller, “Hey, you have to make your reputation on being – honest and, you know, unmerciful.” There is no better word here. Unmerciful. Even its sound cuts like Japanese steel.

I shot 1,305 frames in Japan.

Total, and over fifteen days. And this includes all the behind-the-scenes, class pictures, gag photographs, and all the fun things that happen along the way. Just by editing from the Nikon application and transferring the images to the phone, I cut the edit to 300 pictures. I would call these pictures of intent. These were images I made with a point of reference in mind. Light, timing, composition, motion, or some other photographic “idea” that struck me at the time.

Returning home, I did what I always do. Make something quickly and without any goal or desire of “perfection.” Perfection, or the idea of it, crushes many people. I know perfection is a lie, especially regarding photography books, so I don’t pay it much attention. I spoke to the designer of one of my all-time favorite photography books, and before I could get the title out of my mouth, she said, “Terrible book.” If anyone tells you their book is perfect, they have serious ego problems. (A common scene in professional photography.)

I knew the publication I wanted to make was an eight-page MagCloud Digest. This product fits how I feel about the work I did in Japan. I knew within the first twenty-four hours, even before the class began that my target was a series of diptychs pairing one color image with one black-and-white image. (Something I would never do if working on a project.) When I’m teaching I’m not in a personal “photo mode.” I’m in a mode, don’t me wrong, but it’s “I think the students will like or not like this particular location” mode. Or “What time of day do we need to be here?” mode. “Or what series of trains do we need to take to get here” mode. This is the fun part, actually. Trying to set a photographic table. And in the case of Japan, the students have Elena to thank for most of the answers to these questions. We scouted for three days prior to the class, but the vast majority of initial ideas came from Elena and her prior visits to Japan. (She planned for over a year. I was mostly taking selfies.)

Editing for the digest cut the take to 52 pictures. Note that some of the images pulled were based on a second book idea that will be more about the materials and written passages than the photographs, so the 52 represents several different concepts. There are not 52 good images. There are perhaps twenty images worth looking at. For the digest, I pulled eight. It was, after all, an eight-page digest. However, were this to be a piece I had plans for, there would be fewer than eight pictures in the final printed piece because I would have allowed pages for copy and for at least one image to live alone on a spread, most likely across from the copy. Think promotional piece.

I like the images I pulled for the digest, but others could have substituted. I might eventually work my way through these, or not, but that will be based on factors like workload, travel schedule, desire, etc. I’m fortunate at this time in my career to not want or need anything from photography. I don’t want fame or fortune, book deals, gallery shows, print sales, or anything else typically desired by those attempting to make a name. This makes photography quite enjoyable for me. Entirely personal.

After I sent off the PDF for printing, I made inexpensive thermal prints of the spreads for attachment in my journal. This is, by far, the most important, entertaining aspect of my photography. My journal is the most important artifact in my life. Okay, wife, family, mirror, and then my journal. I look fantastic. The mirror is my daily reminder. (Winking at myself right now.) I could go on and on about my favorite subject, but let’s move along.

The more I sat with the eight pages, the more I realized I didn’t need anything else, and my “audience” didn’t either. And let’s talk a bit about that audience. I don’t have many friends. I know many people but close friends have never been much of my life experience. I’m a country kid and I spent my developing years in multiple locations, some of which were quite remote. I’m content being alone. I loved COVID lockdown, and because I’m always honest with you, I will admit to wanting another year of isolation. (Selfish.) When the United States lifted COVID protocols and the race to normalcy began my first thought was “Bummer.” “I guess I have to wear pants again.”

You are my audience. And sure, I’ve got plenty of local photography-related friends and others who are friends who aren’t related to photography. Most of these people are friends of my wife who tolerate me being around. I’m sure I could sell a few hundred copies of a Japan Zine, but that’s not something I want to do. For me, this would shortchange the people and the place. But what I can see doing is using the work to help illustrate points that might help you to get where you need to be.

One of these points is the idea that eight pages might be enough for most encounters. Eight pages certainly fit the modern attention span. But how much time are people truly willing to spend with me and this work? The answer is not much. But I don’t see this as a problem. I see this as the ultimate challenge and a way to prove my editing chops. Eight pages. That’s all you get. With this in mind, I cut the edit from 52 to 11. Game on.

There is no good way for me to work all eleven into the eight-page spread without making the pub look like a camera club homicide, so that won’t happen, but the gauntlet has been thrown down. I will study and move pieces on the board. Eventually, I can see breaking the eight-page rule and expanding to perhaps twenty pages, allowing for breathing room at the front and back, pages of copy, etc. but with the number of images remaining roughly the same. Heck, the fifty-page digest has a wonderful feel. I know because that’s the page count of my “business card.” But I don’t have that kind of work from Japan.

The point here is this. 1,305 to 11. That’s the price of admission. Working in this manner pays homage and respect to photography itself, and it pays respect to your audience. Your job as a photographer is to be unmerciful. Your job is to put ego aside and allow the images to speak. It might take you a month, or it might take you ten minutes. Cut, cull, kill. As fingers hold and turn the eight pages, the goal is to force a pause. That’s it. That’s all we are talking about. The clutter of the day and of life is pushed aside for just a moment as your photograph consumes from retina to grey matter, hoping that a residue will remain.