Creative: The Juice

The juice is being in the field. That’s where it ends—the pinnacle of photography perfection. Just give me a chance to walk the streets, or fields, or beaches, or distant ranges. What comes before is interesting, too. The research, the questions both answered and unanswered. What comes after, outside of a single copy of a publication of some sort, is inconsequential to me. I could almost say it’s always been this way, but that’s not quite true. There was a time when I sought external validation—newspapers, magazines, contests, galleries, book publishers, museums, etc.

But if I’m honest, it was half-hearted, at best.

I’ve always been happiest on my own. Just doing my thing in whatever misguided way unfolds. Being out with the weight of a camera around my neck or on my shoulder is enough. The hunt. Regardless of outcome. Does it feel good to know you got what you were after? Yes. But it’s not mandatory. For some, it is, and I get that. I feel the same pressure, but I can deal with it better.

In other words, I can deal with failure. I know it’s the most likely outcome the majority of the time. I understand it, and have felt the sting of failure so many times I lost count decades ago. Even when others said, “Nice job,” I just knew it might not have been. I believe the field is about feeling and freedom. The feeling of getting to do what you want, and the freedom of having just ONE thing to do. Look.

These field moments are enough to sustain me. They carry me through the days and weeks, doing screen time, routine life measures, and all the perturbing shit we all have to do. When I’m feeling frustrated, I think back to these moments. The smells, the dust, and life through the little rectangle. Photography is a bizarre pursuit. Boiled down to the basics, it’s just capturing what’s already there — recording, documenting for some internal or external force.

I always thought I would have more time as I got older, but that seems to be entirely wrong. It feels like these field excursions must be planned months in advance, and the range of shit that comes up to derail is endless—new roof, renter issue, kidney stone, or family needs. You know what I mean because I’m sure you are all in the same boat. Most of you, anyway.

Yesterday, a friend in Argentina reached out after he learned I would be in Chile in January. Hopefully, we will cross paths. Me in a vehicle of some sort. He on his bicycle. He’s done 50,000 kilometers through rural South America with a printer strapped to the rear of his frame. Shooting portraits of people who have never had their portrait made. He talked of a two-month ride. I can’t even imagine. That’s the goal with my fieldwork. Time. To be able to go without knowing the return. Traveler vs tourist.