Creating Honest Work

“Honest Work?” What does that mean?

And if there’s “honest work,” does that mean there’s “dishonest work?“

Let me tell you a story about honest and dishonest work.

I was visiting my son in Ukraine when we decided to spend a few days in Poland. We stayed in Krakow, and the family was discussing what we should see while there. I knew that Auschwitz-Birkenau was nearby, but I did not want to visit because I am an empath. I absorb the sad feelings from books, movies, and places… and I definitely did not want to visit a “death camp.”

But the family outvoted me, so off we went. 

We took a tour bus to the camps, and during the one-hour drive, I reflected on where I was headed. I thought that if there were sacred places on earth, this might be one of them, and I decided not to photograph there, believing it could be disrespectful or even sacrilegious to treat the camp as a tourist spot. When I got off the bus, I asked the driver if I could leave my camera equipment on board, but he said, “No,” and said he wouldn’t be responsible for it.

And so, fortunately, I started the tour with my camera and tripod in hand.

I’m not claustrophobic, but within minutes of starting the tour, I felt overwhelmed and couldn’t breathe. I excused myself and stepped outside to try to catch my breath. I walked slowly, looking down at my feet, and wondered who else had walked this same path on their way to the gas chamber. I wondered if their spirits still linger here at Auschwitz-Birkenau.

Then something whispered to me that I needed to photograph their ghosts. So I started photographing ghosts.

Using the other visitors at the camp, I transformed them into ghosts with a long exposure. But I had limited time – the bus was leaving soon – and I rushed to capture the images I could see in my mind’s eye. I had to get them now because I knew I would never be back, that I could never return to another Death Camp.

During my two-hour stay, I created 15 images for this project.

The Ghosts of Auschwitz-Birkenau was honest work, and this is how I define that:

The work was created from my Vision.

The idea was mine, not borrowed or stolen.

I created it for myself, not others.

If I love it, then it doesn’t matter how others feel about it.

Creating honest work is my goal with every image and project I create. However, in the past, I have made some “dishonest work,” and in hindsight, I’m grateful I did because it taught me a very valuable lesson.

The Ghosts of Auschwitz-Birkenau was successful in two ways: it was internally successful because I loved and was proud of it, and it was externally successful and was published, purchased, and exhibited. 

Then something interesting started to happen: my artist friends began encouraging me to pursue another “Ghost” project to boost my exposure and marketing opportunities. 

They suggested projects such as:

“The Ghosts of 911” 

“The Ghosts of The Killing Fields” 

“The Ghosts of The Little Bighorn”

My response was an emphatic “No!” I did not feel inspired to create another series, and there was no Vision for another project. It seemed wrong to create something that I wasn’t inspired to do, or to create simply for marketing purposes. 

But their entreaties persisted, and I gave in and decided to do another series.

Around this time, my wife and I had been watching “The Tudors” miniseries, and I was very drawn to the English castles. I decided to create a new ghost series in the castles called “The Ghosts of Great Britain.”

So I headed to England with my 13-year-old daughter in tow and a white sheet in hand. She was to be my ghost so I didn’t have to depend on strangers. We traveled all over England, creating images of her as she walked and spun during my long exposures. This drew some interest from locals and tourists at the castles.

When I got home and processed the images, I felt an emptiness and unease…and then I realized why: I hated this project! 

Why?

It was contrived. 

I was not following my Vision. 

I was imitating a previous project without inspiration.

I did not create the work for myself.

And I did not love the work.

It was dishonest work, so I scrapped the project! My wife said, “Perhaps others will like it,” and I responded that it wouldn’t matter because I didn’t love it.

I spent over $10,000 on this project and kept only this one image. 

But the lesson I learned was more valuable than the money spent: I am only happy when I create honest work.