I carry a camera all the time. Everywhere. And a backpack, much to the chagrin of friends and family. “You aren’t taking that with you, are you?” they ask as we head out to dinner. “Yes, I’m taking it.” I find most people adverse to carrying much of anything. I am not one of those people. I am far happier with a backpack, fanny pack, or sling than I am without. Without a camera, I feel naked. I could say the same about my journal, pen, headlamp, binoculars, hat, sunscreen, lip balm, glasses, backup journal, backup pens, etc.
The benefit of carrying the cameras is I get to make pictures at any moment. Given the option, I’d shoot every day. This, however, isn’t a reality for me. I spend most of my time in front of a screen. In my home office, tending to the fire drill that is my life. This morning alone, I texted, slacked, or emailed people in Spain, the Netherlands, Baghdad, Germany, Canada, someone on a ship off the Falkland Islands, and multiple folks here in the United States. I wrote four blog posts for this site, finished two for the Blurb blog, pulled images for the Blurb blog, met my FedEx driver, Johnny, received a new camera, left a voice message for a hiking guide, and communicated with family. I pulled items for my Germany workshop and spent a few minutes writing Act One Season One of my newsletter. And that was the first four hours of my Monday. FIRE DRILL.
But most of the pictures I make don’t work. This is normal. If everything you shoot “works out,” I don’t think you are trying hard enough. I also put limits on myself to see what I can pull off. I will arbitrarily say “Okay, you get three images total.” Or, “You can only use ISO 200, regardless of how dark it is.” Silly? Stupid? Maybe, but I’m still shooting. I don’t believe in the modern facade of social popularity or artificial intelligence. I prefer regular intelligence, and regular intelligence is flawed. Just like life. I mostly make misses.
Last week, I rode an open train into the freezing desert night to view the stars. There were friends, drinks, snacks, and strangers involved. I wore red pants. A stranger, also in red pants, asked me about my boots.(Thursday) I made pictures, most of which didn’t work. I gave myself a limit of 3200ISO knowing this wasn’t nearly enough. I wondered what would happen. Would I get lucky or would I miss? I mostly missed. I did make a portrait of friends, a solid portrait that worked, but most of the pictures, like the ones you see here, missed. Or did they?
Remember, I’m a journal keeper. The journal has no rules. I tinker and I layer and I paint and write. It all mixes into a secret amalgam. As straight, overall images, they don’t work, but in the minefield of my mind, these are pure gold. The key is to try. Just shoot. There isn’t a right and wrong. Again, we live in a world of carefully curated content. It’s supposed to look perfect because someone is always selling you. Forget all that. Go break something.
Comments 13
Out of focus, blurry, and missed shots are sometimes kinda cool. Olga Karlovac has built an entire oeuvre around her blurry photos. Sometimes our lives are blurry, out of focus, and missed shots. Art reflects life, and vice versa.
Author
I keep hearing about her. Need to spend some time with her pics. I love blurry shit. Always have. Doesn’t go over well in the PJ world, however.
“Without a camera, I feel naked” – I haven’t seen a more relatable line.
Baghdad? Wooh! now that’s interesting!
Loved the idea of self-imposed limitations to explore the creative itch. Reading your post, I am reminded of the line from Sam Abell, “Greatness isn’t the target, goodness is.” and from Cartier Bresson, “Sharpness is a bourgeois concept.”
I liked the photographs. They give a feeling of mystery and a journey to unknown.
Eager to see your first news letter Mr. Daniel Shakespeare.
Also excited for Blurb photo critique session. Have submitted my work for the third time in a row!
Dan, do you know John Gossage’s book, A Dozen Failures? And, least we forget that Robert Frank’s The Americans, had 80ish images and I believe the story goes that there were about 25,000 negatives. I am luck to find that 1% of my “captures” are even considered for later attention.
Author
So, frank either shot 27,000 or 72,000 images for the book and the edit was 51. That’s editing.
I know I’ve posted this here before. But maybe there’s one or two people who haven’t seen it…
During the weekly assignment critique my 2nd semester photography instructor once said this to the entire class:
“I don’t want to see one more photograph of bridges or house doors in [New Hope, PA]. If I see you walking around with your lens cap on I will knock you down a letter grade. And if I see you without a camera I will flunk you for the semester.”
Nobody ever challenged him on that. Carrying my camera was already a habit before that afternoon and continues to this day.
My challenge is to not to bring everything I might need but to do the best work I can with whatever I decide to bring. I always carry one camera, a rain sleeve, lens cloth and an extra battery. There used to be complaints from the family every now and then but that doesn’t happen anymore.
they know I’ll catch up when I’m done.
I have no delusions nor do I have any aspirations for my work to be worth anything to anyone but me… so the pressure is off. I’m just doing my best to photograph what I see and on the very few occasions when it all comes together I’m happy.
Your last paragraph is exactly how I feel nowadays.
Author
we are surrounded by phony, the facade. Crafted for following. Weird is bad. Pseudo perfect. Nonsense. Life is dirty.
Author
Man, do I LOVE that. No more bridges or doors. No lens cap and you better have it with you. I like that guy already.
I keep having to remind myself that I am taking photos and writing for ME. I am not doing these things for my ego or even for atta-boys. I have my own website and have (very) slowly attempted to find my “style”, but not being hard on myself if I feel I’m not making any headway.
I feel the best when I combine my photos with words…mini essays. My biggest problem is to stop having the thought of “Why would I write about , because it will probably be boring to most people.
Less than ten people know I have a personal website. Heck, I don’t even tell people that know about the website when I post to my blog. So, why is it still so hard for me to just DO IT?
Dan, your website and your overall outlook has been an inspiration to me. Thank you!
Author
My guess…you are putting the audience far too close to the source. Forget us. Just do you. Do you in a cool way, we will all be there with you, down the line.
I like to call them “happy mistakes” because it’s still artistic. Even the blurry ones. The imperfect ones can be just as meaningful.
Author
Perfect sucks.