I now receive as many questions about journals as I do photography, but at the root of many of these questions is thinly disguised fear and suspicion. It troubles me to say this, at least to some degree, but I see this as a reflection of modern culture more than a reflection on me or my notebooks. The fear and suspicion stem from creating work for oneself as opposed to creating work for the other. We now have multiple generations of people who have never created for themselves. Their works are performance pieces designed to attract and engage legions of strangers they hope to mine for financial purposes. These works shift based on the fickle nature of the audience. Whatever the audience wants, the creator delivers, regardless of how soulless or phony that might be. There is a dark side to this methodology. Once trapped in this vicious cycle, creators lash out at those who haven’t fallen prey to this same scenario. Those who create for creation’s sake. This is happening more and more as the algorithms of old become more powerful and controlling.
Creating solely for the audience is a short-term play. (Unless you are on assignment.)
It is also a quick way to find burnout, mental health issues, or despair. Have a look around at some of the most successful online people in history. Facade, facade, facade, breakdown, admission of false premise foundation, resurrection, return as guru of some sort. Ya, don’t be like these folks. What must it feel like to realize everything you’ve built was built on falsity? On phoniness? Hitting that reset button would be the hardest keystroke of your life. Even those who saw incredible fortune from their act now seem unsettled, unhappy, and unsure as to who they are or what comes next. (As if they don’t know who they truly are.)
When I say the journal is built for me, not you, the pointed questions arrive like missiles from distant IP addresses. You must be hiding something. You probably never go back to your old journals. You have advantages we don’t have. You must be making money off these. Why would you do something you don’t intend to show or gain something from? (So odd to have to write about this.)
These are reflections of where we are as a people. Stacked into our pyramidal scheme of more is better, maximize profits, and increase shareholder revenue at all costs. Cracked out on the like button, the share button, and the thumb swipe of distracted minds. The journal is the antithesis of all this. It’s just there waiting for you to be you, in whatever savory or unsavory flavor that is. I don’t want photography jobs. I don’t want exhibitions of my work. I don’t sell prints. I don’t want book deals. I don’t want anything that most photographers want. I never have. Consequently, my views have garnered me titles like “Unhireable, arrogant, dismissive, luddite.” Question the desires of the masses, and you will be an outcast. Spend time making a book that no one else will see, and the problem only gets worse.
I see plenty of frustrated folks sitting around wondering why their careers aren’t where they want to be, or why their following isn’t as sizable as they would like. They don’t move unless prompted by “the other.” They dismiss journals, notebooks, blogs, or anything else that might place them in an “unprofessional” space. The joke is on them, sadly. The other doesn’t care about you. It cares about whatever version of you is most compatible with them. Fickle. Prepare for a life not your own. Prepare to live while trying to satisfy an unquenchable thirst.
Most of us have to work and satisfy an “other” at least part of the time. Nothing wrong with that. Heck, for many, that’s entirely enough. I know plenty of folks who are in a holding pattern but are happy, productive, and content. It’s a wonderful thing to see, but I think creative people come with an extra burden that makes this more expected life a little less shiny. We want more. We expect more. We are perhaps more imaginative, and because of this, we must produce more, take more risks, and even alienate ourselves from the masses in our quest to stoke that inner fire.
The journal is mine. It belongs to no one else. Nobody is asking for it. I’m under no deadline. It doesn’t require UX, product, marketing, distribution, an editor, or an agent. I work on it when I feel like it. I write things that make no sense. I experiment. I don’t overthink any part of this thing. I often look back on pages and have no memory of making them. Blue tape on the cover. Why? No idea. It’s not about the pen, paper, trim size, or aesthetic. It’s simply about giving your brain a location to spill out. Your brain, not the brain of “the other.”
I’m interested in interesting people.
I don’t find “chasers” interesting. I’m looking for original thought, regardless of how flawed. Many of the people I find interesting are odd or don’t fit in, including my parents, who made it very clear from a young age, “As a family, we don’t fit in.” I have a friend in Santa Fe who everyone says is odd. He is. He’s odd. He doesn’t sound like you and me, or anyone else for that matter, but each time I converse with him, I come away with thoughts and questions swirling around my limited brain. In Wyoming, as a kid, we had one cowboy who wore sneakers and smoked weed. To say this was atypical is an understatement. He was interesting. Didn’t fit the mold. Conversations with him were different from anyone else.
I’ve discovered that many of my favorite people are note takers. I would call them journal keepers, but I’m not sure what is how they would describe it. Perhaps taking notes is so normal that they would never consider this an official act requiring focus and thought. The doodle. They draw. They write notes and scribble ideas. Notepad. Napkin. Arm. Whatever. Not everything needs to please or demand ROI. Who are you when left alone? Where do these thoughts go if not placed on paper?
So, yes. I go back to my old journals all the time. I’m about to do so again for my NEWSLETTER. (I know, I know.) I make them for myself. Even those lusted after by institutions still reside with me because I never follow up on these situations. Being acquired might require my time later in life, and that’s not something I want to commit to. Making these books is one of the best parts of my existence. It’s fun, joyful even. I’m in pursuit of nothing when I make these books. If you have never done this, now is the time to try, but if you are an online type who works for the other, I’m not saying it’s going to be easy.
It might be physically and mentally painful. The focus required to handwrite one page of script is enough to break people. You can always go back to Instagram. It’s much, much easier and requires no thought at all. When you first put pen to a blank page, you will know immediately where you stand. Dry mouth, nerves, agitation, distraction, or relief that you have an open road ahead. One car, no speed limit, no final destination. The journal isn’t going to save you, at least I don’t think so. The journal is just a chance to save a small piece of who you are, so that maybe that small piece grows into something more.
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Daniel-san: PREACH BROTHER! Love your non-conformist rants – they’re my favorite. I have Moleskine journals all over the house. Some are personal journals, some are nature journals, some are photography journals. No one will ever see them but me.
Saw a great quote the other day: “Once you shed your attachment to the life that you’re expected to lead, you’re able to create the life meant for you.”
Author
I love that multiple journal idea. I have two, but have never broken the content into specific journals. And I love that quote.
Interesting post. Creativity for the sake of creativity is definitely relatively rare these days, but absolutely a higher goal. Because now we have “creatives” who make “content”. But just because YouTube sees everyone as potential “creators” (whether baking cakes, plotting the resistance, discussing the best methods for polyglottery, or explaining how to fix your broken toilet) does not mean that everyone who posts on YouTube should start viewing everything they do (baking, resisting fascism, language-learning, plumbing) as “content”. I cringe every time I hear that word now. It is the tail wagging the dog. Books have a “contents” page, but apart from that, no author refers to writing books as “writing content”. Not yet, anyway. Maybe soon. We have to dump this vacuous word “content”. Be creatively expansive, not always confirming to the parameters of space demarcated by tech companies.
I’m a big fan of Brian Eno. His 1970s–1980s “ambient” albums have helped me overcome insomnia at night, and helped me write (and similar work) during the day (and then there’s all his collaborations and production, from Bowie to Talking Heads, etc. etc.). Most people don’t seem to understand (and probably don’t care) just how he made “Music for Airports” (multiple tape loops, etc.), and how it is absolutely not “new age” (some “nice” synth sounds and loads of reverb). His Oblique Strategies are applicable to different art forms and disciplines. And he simply creates for the sake of being creative. It is certainly not the tail wagging the dog.
Anyway, I listened to this interview at the weekend (the following URL), while assembling an Ikea bookcase. It made the experience so much more inspiring – “Inside Brian Eno’s Studio | Zane Lowe Interview” – https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nR4JAonAR4g. And I couldn’t help think about it again while reading your post. Description: “Brian Eno welcomes Zane Lowe into his studio to discuss generative art and the importance of consciously recentering creative expression in our lives”.
Right, lunch break over. Time to get back to work. Is it okay to listen to “Thursday Afternoon” on a Tuesday, I wonder.
Author
I have been saying this for YEARS. When that word crept into the vernacular of the industry it was the beginning of the end. There is a HUGE and powerful difference between content and photography. I love Brian
Eno as well. Have been listening to him since my days in LA. My friend Michael introduced me to him by loaning me a Sony mini disc.
Morning. Late reply… (I hope you’re doing well. When are you back in NYC?) Yes, I’m sure I’ve heard you refer to this before re: YouTube photography, but for some reason I find it even more jarring when I hear news discussion/commentary channels use the same word. As for Eno, glad you’re familiar. I still have a Sony minidisc recorder… although, I admit, it’s not been used in a while. It was a nice improvement on cassettes for doing interviews (but mp3s were a much greater jump). Probably worth something on eBay, considering that the hipsters are all retro…. 🙂
Author
They are worth a lot now. And I love it. I’m back in NYC, most likely, in September.
I had to look up the work luddite – but that is on me 😉 great read as always.
Damnit – *word not work – words 2 John 0
Author
It’s a good word and fits me perfectly. I heard it most when I deleted social and the addicted social Zekes told me I was too much of a luddite to understand the beauty of something like IG.
Dan,
You’re the reason I started journaling and branching out with my photography(still currently working on my minibook). Its such a great creative outlet. No rules. Just you and a notebook(and a good pen). Painting words on a blank sheet of papers is so satisfying.
Author
That’s great. Makes me happy. I’ve always said, do it every day for two weeks and you will never stop.
“Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken.” ~ often attributed to Oscar Wilde although there’s some debate about that.
Problem is most people are so busy trying to be someone else they haven’t spent any time figuring out who they themselves really are. If they did that instead of just trying to follow the fickle herd they might find that there are quite a few people who aren’t fitting the herd either… like the friend you wrote of.
When it comes to journaling, I admire people who are able to do it. But for me I can’t be still long enough to put pen to paper. I’ve tried many times but finally admitted it is simply not in my nature to do it. And, for me, that’s OK.
Author
You are spot on. Copying someone successful is now totally normal. Why did you make that picture? Oh, I saw someone else do it and they got a lot of likes, so I went out and found the same spot. I’ve heard this so many times now and it’s so lame each and every time. The fact you can’t put pen to paper means you should journal more than anyone else. You might be over thinking it.
Not to make this a drawn out conversation, but I truly respect what you have to say and have reflected on it since your reply to my post on May 21. The conclusion I arrived at is not that I overthink keeping a journal.
Its that I don’t think of it.
I literally have nothing to say in the form of a journal, not to me nor to anyone else. I might say that, as presumptuous as it sounds, I’m too busy living my life to write about it. But then again, as you wrote in your article people are different, sometimes unconventional or, as you put it, odd.
I’m not implying this is an admirable quality nor that it is a defect in myself requiring addressing. And although this is the way I’ve always been I’m not even saying I will never journal. My life has taken so many unpredictable twists and turns I would never rule out the possibility I might begin journaling someday.
Yet, in a way I do journal although not through pen and paper. I have my camera with me always and often photograph whatever moves me to press the shutter button. I have thousands of images and there memories attached to every one of them. When I go through my archives I not only have those memories to relive and my interpretation of them in whatever I did in post but also what meanings they have now as compared to then.
So maybe I do journal after all… thanks for inspiring my little retrospective journey…
Author
Hey, whatever works for you is what works for you. No right and wrong here. I shoot pictures for my journal, so in a way I’m doing something similar to you, but the writing forces me to use my imagination in a very different way than the camera. But I’ve also been doing it for twenty five years. It’s so much a part of what I love I can’t imagine not doing it, but the vast majority of people I know would never even consider it. Just as I would never spend time on social.
Thank you, Daniel, for always keeping it real. This post deeply resonates.
Unfortunately, the ubiquitous nature of digital photography brought an onslaught of the “look at me, listen to me, watch me” generation. The sad truth is many are pursuing likes, followers and the end goal, making money. I have seen people who post daily, yes, daily on Instagram. It’s so apparent every photo they make, is for others to see and like. Rambling thoughts, cryptic sentences. Photos that say nothing. I often cringe at the lack of knowledge of photography or the masters that came before. No sense of how to frame or a simple understanding of lighting.
Creating art is a shared human experience. We create because we must. We create to heal. We create because we have to. We create because our soul cries for meaning. Creating for likes is an empty chamber of flattery that brings us nowhere real. As Daniel wrote : facade, facade, facade.
Author
The “good” quality bar fell and can’t get up. “Bangers” on Instagram, “content” instead of photography. And in a volume not even Homer Simpson could consume. And I agree with you point about art. Those who do it can’t NOT do it.
Newsletter? What 🙂
Author
Mine has been spotted near the North Korean border.
Once again you’ve hit the nail on the head. We’ve somehow ended up in a world where, if you’re not flogging your thoughts for likes, people reckon you’ve lost the plot.
That line about people being too scared to make anything without a guaranteed round of applause? It’s like an alternate bad reality for some. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a bloody sickness. We’ve gone from scribbling on napkins to needing a mood board, a niche, a brand voice, and a soft launch just to share a passing thought, ffs.
Anyway, time to grab a pen, make a mess, and not explain a damn thing to anyone 🙂
Author
I’ve seen talented, career art people brought to their knees by lack of flow on the IG feed. It’s astounding.
Dear Daniel,
When I found some of your videos on youtube you inspired me to finally pickup a pen and start to journal. Unfortunately I then fell into that social craze of bullet journaling where it is perfect and neat. Then I saw your visual journals that you create and I just could not take that leap to create them myself as I felt the perfectionist constrains I placed on my self.
Until I saw you take a bnw print (of the guy with the buckle from the Burrow races). Just in plain printer paper and it broke my brain… or fixed it. I have been off social for more than a month and just worn out my old HP printer and filled an entire large Moleskine…. And bought a stack more. The journal as a peice of art has eluded me until now.
Thank you!
Theunis
Author
That makes me happy. The quicker you can leave “perfectionism” behind, the better off you will be. And happier too. In my experience, there is no such thing, and the idea of it keeps so many folks from breaking through. Glad you are off social. Life outside is simply better.
My latest journal scratchings! (About staff working in supermarkets in Japan.)
Its heels clicked together like obedient little soldiers, toes flaring out at an exacting forty-five-degree angle—as if choreographed by a particularly fussy ballet master. The precision was dazzling. Arms clamped snugly to its sides, shoulders pulled back like it had a coat hanger stuffed in its jacket, neck stiff, head held aloft like royalty surveying a kingdom of discount produce.
There it stood—proud as punch—in the storeroom doorway, striking a pose for an audience of unsuspecting shoppers.
Then, without warning, it bent clean in half at the hips, folding into a perfect ninety-degree bow like a very polite robot or a terribly well-mannered deckchair.
Honestly? I was far more captivated by the mincemeat.
Author
That’s great. A perfect entry. not about you or your day, just observation.