I’ve been doing a lot of Zoom presentations to Camera Clubs and recently I’ve been getting feedback that I’ve never heard before…and it really surprised me:
Thank you for giving me permission to create what I love
Thank you for giving me permission to ignore the rules
Thank you for giving me permission to listen to myself
My first reaction was horror! Who am I to give anyone permission? I worried that I had presumed too much and crossed a line in my presentation.
My second reaction was bewilderment. Why do people think they need permission to do what they want?
My third reaction was sadness. It seems that the message so many people come away with after taking a photo class or joining a camera clubs is: here are the rules that you must follow to create good images.
And then they hear my message:
Don’t follow the rules
Create what you love
Don’t listen to other’s advice
And their reaction is often relief and excitement. Relief that they don’t have to follow the rules and excitement that they can follow their own instincts and create for the pure joy of creating.
But of course following this path comes with a price: others may not like your work, they may even be critical of it and you probably will not please judges or reviewers who believe in following rules.
But what would you rather do? Follow their advice and create images that they love but you don’t…or follow your own heart and create images that you love.
If it helps, you have my permission to ignore the rules, follow your Vision and create images that you love.
When you read these “Ten Things That I Would Never Do” you may disagree with one of them, you may disagree with several of them and you might even be offended…
Please don‘t be!
These are not ten things that YOU should never do, but ten things that I will never do…again.
1. Offer advice about someone else’s image.
Why? Because that advice would come from my perspective and Vision, not theirs.
People often ask me: what would you do with this image? And I say: if I were to tell you what I would do, and you followed my advice and you kept following my advice, soon your images would look like mine.
And please believe me, you don‘t want that. Ansel has already done Ansel and Cole has already done Cole. You want to do “you.”
Monolith No. 50
Created with a Manfrotto 3021 Pro Tripod and Lowepro Bag Model 200 AW.
2. Give technical specifications.
I hope you smiled when you read the technical specifications above image and said to yourself: the tripod and bag don’t have anything to do with this image!
I don‘t believe any specifications, including camera, lens, aperture, shutter speed and etc. have anything to do with an image either. It distracts from the image and worse, listing specifications furthers the false belief that they are the key to the image, when the real key is the creativity and Vision of the artist.
A few years back I submitted an image to a publication which responded that I “must” include the technical specifications…but they didn’t say which ones.
And so I gave them the specifications of my tripod, including how far the legs were spaced apart for the shot.
They did not respond…but published the image.
3. Use watermarks.
I think it sacrilegious to put a watermark on an image, it’s so distracting that it ruins my viewing experience.
I know the arguments for using them, but I love my images far too much to desecrate them in this way.
4. Copy someone else’s idea.
“Lesser artists borrow; great artists steal.”
Pablo Picasso.
I have no idea what Pablo was thinking, but I have to disagree…big-time.
Everyone sets their own standards, but in my quest to create “honest work,“ I refuse to borrow or steal.
But sometimes I do create work that is similar to others…
Several years ago, I submitted my “Grain Silos” portfolio to LensWork. Brooks Jensen responded that he liked the work, but that he had just published something very similar in the current issue by a photographer named Larry Blackwood.
The irony was that Larry and I were friends, and unbeknownst to each other we were working on similar projects and had produced similar results. This resulted in Brooks writing an article about Fellow Travelers who sometimes create similar work.
Coincidences…cool.
Borrowing someone else’s idea…not cool.
5. Imitate someone’s work and send it to them.
“Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.“
Charles Caleb Cotton
Here’s another generally accepted maxim that I disagree with.
I would never photograph “Half Dome“ like Ansel did, email it to him and proudly say: “Look what I did!“
When someone imitates one of my Harbinger images and sends it to me, I’m not flattered (however I‘m never offended either because I know their intentions are kind).
So what is the sincerest form of flattery? For someone to say: “I love this image!“ or loving it so much that they hang it in their home.
6. Ask someone what I should do with one of my images.
If I were to ask someone what should I do with this image, it would reveal something very important about me: that I don’t have a Vision for this image.
Instead of asking for someone else’s Vision, I should find my own.
Vision is what makes my image “mine.“
It’s what puts my mark on it.
It‘s what gives it spirit.
It’s what makes it more than “just a photograph.“
7. Shoot in color.
My eye has always been drawn to Black and White and I’ve never had an interest in color. Outside of family photos, I have only created two color images, one of them is above.
Ironically, I shoot all of my images in color and then convert them to black-and-white. When I’m converting them and can see the color and b&w image side-by-side, the color image rarely appeals to me.
But for some reason this one caught my eye, perhaps because it is so monochromatic?
8. Seek out the iconic shots and photograph them.
When I go to a location, I never research the iconic shots or seek out the “must see” sites.
Why?
Because millions of others have photographed those locations a billion times before and I don’t want to create another “me too“ image.
9. Offer limited editions.
I cannot imagine printing The Angel Gabriel image 25 times and then not being able to print it again because it was in an edition of 25.
I could never do that…I would never do that.
In my opinion there’s only one reason to offer a limited edition: to artificially create scarcity to inflate the price. Fortunately for me, I do not pursue photography for money.
When I was trying to decide if I should offer limited editions, I asked the editor of LensWork, Brooks Jensen, what he thought. He asked me this question:
“Would you like to say that your work sold for thousands of dollars, or that your work was in thousands of homes?”
I knew what I wanted! I now number my prints, but in an open edition. If I’m lucky I’ll print a million copies of The Angel Gabriel!
I’ve had people refuse to purchase an image when the discovered it was not in a limited edition. That told me they were more interested in an investment, than the image.
I want people to purchase my image because they love it, not because it’s a “good investment.”
10. Attend a portfolio review.
When you get a portfolio review, you are getting the opinion of that person.
Opinion!
Embedded in that opinion is their Vision, their likes and dislikes, their prejudices, phobias and everything else. And the thing is, there are hundreds, no thousands, no millions of opinions out there!
Which one should you listen to?
Your own.
I don’t believe in portfolio reviews because I value my opinion of my work more than a reviewers.
A story:
A young artist was exhibiting his work for the first time and a well-known critic was in attendance.
The critic says to the young man: “would you like to hear my opinion of your work?”
“Yes” says the young man.
“It’s worthless” the critic says.
“I know” the artist replies, “but let’s hear it anyway.”
Experts may be expert in many things, but there’s one thing they can never be expert in: your Vision.
I’ve received one portfolio review in my life and the only good thing that came of it was a commitment to find my own Vision.
And finding my Vision changed my photography…and my life.
Criticism can be devastating,
but praise can be even more dangerous
In May of 2008 I created The Ghosts of Auschwitz-Birkenau which was widely published and exhibited. In addition to the public success, I consider the work a personal success because I love and am proud of the images.
And with the success came congratulations, praise and then the advice….
The overwhelming consensus was that I needed to strike while the iron was hot and take advantage of the publicity the project was receiving. I was encouraged to create additional ” The Ghosts of… ” projects and ride the wave of success.
It was suggested:
- The Ghosts of 911
- The Ghosts of Little Big Horn
- The Ghosts of Manzanar
- The Ghosts of The Killing Fields
My initial reaction? No way! I was inspired to create the Auschwitz series and unless I was inspired to do another location, I’m not interested.
But the praise and encouragement just kept coming in: fantastic!…brilliant!…do another Ghost series… ride the wave…take advantage…you have a winning formula…this could be your ticket to the big time!
Slowly I was seduced and finally I agreed. I chose as my next Ghost project: The Ghosts of Great Britain . It was to be shot at the castles of England.
So off I went with my family in tow. My young daughter was to be my ghost and she brought her ghost costume: a white sheet with eye holes cut out. We went from castle to castle with her wearing the sheet as she spun or walked slowly for 30 second exposures.
It was a fun trip and we had some laughs as other tourists looked on, wondering what we were doing.
Old Wardour Castle
When I got home and processed the images…I absolutely hated the results and scrapped the project. I kept only one image, “Old Wardour Castle” above.
Why did I hate the project? Because it was not inspired, it was not borne from Vision and I had no Passion for the project. Instead it was a contrived marketing strategy.
In Cole-Speak: it wasn’t an honest project.
It was an expensive failure, but it provided two invaluable lessons:
First, trust your instincts. Other’s advice may be sincere and right for them, but it may not be right for you. In this instance my definition of success was quite different than how the advice-givers defined success.
Second, I was reminded of the powerful influence praise has. I was too easily seduced and set aside my standards.
Not cool.
This experience reinforced my belief that criticism can be devastating, but praise can be even more dangerous.
Georgia O’Keeffe addressed this:
“I decided to accept as true my own thinking.
I had already settled it for myself, so flattery and
criticism go down the same drain, and I am quite free.”
My goal is to be be free from the opinions of others, for good or for ill. But the truth is that praise is a seductive siren that beckons, influences and sometimes changes my actions and opinions.
Even today as I show these images, I worry that if I were to start receiving positive comments about them I would be persuaded to change my opinion of them.
If others love them…maybe they’re not so bad?
Maybe I was wrong, maybe these are good images?
Maybe that “Ghosts of…” idea wasn’t so bad?
And while I’d like to think I wouldn’t let that happen, this is exactly what did happen a few years ago with another one of my images: I traded my values for popularity.
But that’s a story for a future newsletter.
Tongariki, Easter Island
Perhaps you’ve noticed that for the past several years, most of my best images were created in exotic and far away places such as Easter Island, Ukraine, Newfoundland, Hawaii, Alaska, Poland, Iceland and the Faroe Islands.
You see the same coming from other photographers: exotic images coming from exotic lands. The conclusion is obvious:
To create great images you must go to great locations!
But that’s a lie.
The real truth is this: great images are created anywhere you can see them. Even at home, your back yard or hometown.
To illustrate this proposition I gathered together some of the images that I had created within 15 minutes of my home:
An abstract created on the Poudre River, minutes from my home.
Seen along I25 in Ft Collins, CO
Almost home when I saw this storm cloud
I’m driving with my daughter and son in the back seat, when I noticed her enjoying the warm summer day with the window open and her eyes closed.
In my backyard.
From my “Ceiling Lamp” series, this lamp is at the Mourning Dove Ranch, which is my home.
Looking for Grain Silos when I found these chairs.
Found while working on the Grain Silos series.
This is an old set of silos located right in town.
The Poudre River, near my home.
Two small cherry trees in my backyard.
A autumn day at at tree farm.
I found this sunflower on the ground alongside a field of sunflowers.
This is Ingrid. These are cows.
Ingrid wanted a “unique” photo for her yearbook.
I photographed this storm system just a mile from home.
I was driving in a snowstorm when I saw this Cottonwood. I love cottonwoods and fortunately I always have my camera with me.
I found this in an old and somewhat dangerous trailer park along the river.
It was raining and so I grabbed some leaves and nuts from outside, and photographed this on the kitchen table with a bare bulb.
A local cow.
Wandering about when I saw these tracks.
With one dahlia, I created a small series of images.
This is the dahlia, I found it discarded and on the ground at a local nursery.
At this greenhouse, was a tool room, but I couldn’t find any lights. So a penlight and a long exposure were used to create this image.
A pressed dandelion from years earlier, photographed in my office.
This old 34 Chrysler was found down the road in my neighbor’s yard.
This old bicycle was also found in my friend Frank’s yard.
A “Frozen Pond” near my home.
My cat Wiggles was sitting on my office chair, in this image she is yawning, but I didn’t think that the title “Wiggles Yawning” sounded very good. Instead this was named “Wiggles Roaring.”
This “Skeleton” was found as is along the Poudre River.
I was pumping gas at the Forks when I saw this “Packard” behind the gas station.
A long exposure water abstract created at a spillway on the Poudre River.
I found this detail in old abandoned home.
A melted shower enclosure in an old burned out home.
A few years back almost all of my work was created locally, but then I started to travel. Photographing in exotic locations was exciting and easy, but it made me a lazy photographer.
When you go to a place like Easter Island, you cannot NOT come away with a great image, they almost fall into your lap! The same is true in the Faroe Islands, everywhere you point the camera is a great shot.
Travel photography is easy because I’ve chosen a location that I find particularly interesting. It’s easy because I can leave all my cares at home and focus 24/7 on just one thing: creating. It’s also easier because I come to each new location with “fresh eyes.”
Shooting at home is much more challenging. At home I’ve got a million things on my mind and a million things to do, that’s two million distractions! And this makes it hard to photograph because almost anything, no matter how small, seems to take priority.
I also find it difficult to get into a creative groove when I’m creating in bits and spurts. One minute I’m a house-husband, the next a photographer, then a grandpa and then a photographer, then a rancher and again a photographer…I find it hard to switch in and out of creative mode.
But the virus is here, most of us are restricted in our travels and photographing at home is the new reality. And instead of seeing this as a negative restriction, I see it as the silver lining of an otherwise dark cloud.
I believe the real test of creating isn’t cherry-picking great images from great locations, but rather to see the extraordinary in the ordinary. To be able to find something remarkable in my everyday surroundings.
Edward Weston, who is my photo-spiritual guide, was confined to a chair in later life with with Parkinson’s when he said:
So I look at the coronavirus home confinement not as a curse, but a blessing. Travel photography is fun and it’s helped me create some great images, but it’s made me lazy. I’m now being challenged to really see again.
So here’s how I plan to approach this challenge:
First, I’ll set aside time to go out and shoot every day. For me, the more I shoot, the more I see. My biggest challenge will be to not let the little things distract me from getting out.
Second, I must learn to see past the mundane. When you’ve lived at one location for years, it becomes ordinary to the eye. And so here’s a little game I play when I’m in a location where I cannot see: I pretend that I’ve created a time machine and have brought back all of the great masters of photography: Adams, Weston, Strand, Caponigro, Bourke-White, Lang, Bullock and others. I ask myself if they were turned loose on this location, could they find a great image?
And of course I know the answer before I ask it: Yes.
And once I’ve decided that a great shot must be there, I look for it.
Third, when I’m juggling a lot of balls at home, I go into hyper mode, which is great for getting things done but exactly the opposite of what’s needed to be creative.
So what I have to do is slow down…I need to slow my heart rate and my thinking. I need to empty my mind and just see and feel.
I do this by stopping, sitting and looking. This helps take some of the “hyper” out of me and allows me to connect with my surroundings.
I don’t know how long this virus is going to restrict travel, but I’m hoping to use the time to develop some new creative habits and to train my eye to once again see wherever I’m at.
Dark clouds always have silver linings, if you look for them.
The Fox – Anaheim 1971
I was talking with some friends recently and they asked why I write these articles. I thought about my motivations and wanted to share them.
First, I don’t do it for the money…because there is none! I don’t sell advertising or subscriptions.
I don’t do it to win followers. I tend to alienate as many as I endear – just bring up Photographic Celibacy at your next gathering of photographers and see what happens.
Maybe I do it for the likes? No, I’m not very likeable.
Or perhaps I want to be an “internet influencer?” (I don’t really know what that means)
Here’s the truth of it: I write because I know there are many photographers out there who are in the exact same place that I found myself some 15 years ago::
- I didn’t believe I was creative
- I had no idea if I had a Vision
- I wanted more than winning ribbons and earning likes
I write about my experiences and what I’ve learned to help others who are find themselves in a similar place.
Self-Portrait – 1969
My Photographic Story
My story begins at the age of 14 when I was living in Rochester, NY. A friend and I were out hiking when we came across an old house that my friend said had once been owned by George Eastman. That piqued my interest and so I downloaded Eastman’s biography from iTunes…I mean I checked out Eastman’s biography from the school library (coincidently I’m re-reading that biography right now).
I was immediately fascinated by photography and before I had finished that book, before I had ever taken a picture or seen a print develop in the darkroom, I was convinced that I was destined to be a photographer. This sounds silly I know, coming from a 14 year old boy, but that is how I felt then and how I still feel today.
And so for the next several years, photography was my entire life. My every waking moment was spent reading, photographing and experimenting. I skipped so many classes because I was out photographing, that I barely graduated high-school.
I grew up with no art or music in the home, and because I was not taught to be creative, I came to believe that I wasn’t. I surmised that you were either born with the creative gene or you were not…and I definitely did not have it (this is something I frequently hear from other photographers).
This belief reinforced my conclusion that photography was the perfect art form for me. While it was creative, it was also technical. I decided that I could compensate for my lack of creative ability by excelling in the technical.
Looking back at that now, it seems like a silly thing to believe, but that’s what I thought…or perhaps what I hoped.
Men Watching Construction – 1970
I had been self-taught but now I was planning to attend College for a formal photographic education. But unexpectedly I had this jarring epiphany: if I chose photography as a career, it might become “just a job” and I could lose my passion for it. I didn’t want that and so I chose a career in business and planned on pursuing photography as a passion in my spare time.
What I didn’t know is that while raising a family and building a career, there would be little spare time left for photography. And so for the next 30 years, my personal photography largely languished.
Fast forward to 2004: my children are older, I have a little more free time and digital photography is making its way onto the scene. I decide that I’m now ready to return to photography and learn digital.
And so I picked up right where I left off: pursuing photography as a technical art and turning out average images that looked just like everyone else’s. They were technically good and followed the rules of composition but they were mundane and soulless. They could have filled a calendar of cliché images quite nicely, but they didn’t fill my soul.
I also began entering contests and started to win, which was exciting…at first. But I noticed that winning didn’t change my life and it didn’t make me any happier…and in fact the opposite seemed to be true.
Winning was leaving me with this empty feeling and I wasn’t sure why.
Vered Galor
About this time I made friends with an artist, Vered Galor, who became my mentor. She and I could not have been more different: she was an artist who created using photography and I was a technically oriented photographer who documented. These differences were the basis for many a “spirited discussion” about photography and art. Vered would encourage me to be creative and I’d resist, telling her that I thought it was a photographic sin to “manipulate” an image.
Looking back, the truth was that I didn’t know how to create and I didn’t believe that I had it in me. I told myself that I wasn’t creative for so long, that it had become a fact.
Fortunately, Vered was stronger willed than I was and she kept pushing me to move beyond documenting. Slowly I started down the path by first desiring to be creative and then by believing it was possible.
One thing that I did to help me remember my goal of becoming an artist, was to change the words that I used. For example, instead of saying that I was a photographer I would tell people that I was an artist who used photography. You cannot imagine how phony I felt doing this! I could barely call myself an artist without feeling guilty and blushing.
But it reminded me of what I wanted to become.
The Angel Gabriel
My focus on being creative was starting to work and I soon began “creating images” more often than “taking pictures.” The Angel Gabriel was the first image that I consciously “created” and it remains to this day one of my best images.
Thanks to Vered’s influence, I had started to transform from photographer to artist. I wish you could have known me back then so that you could appreciate the magnitude of the transformation that has taken place.
Vivian Maier
Edward Weston
Gordon Parks
Imogen Cunningham
What about this idea that some people are just more creative than others? Look at artists such as Weston, Cunningham, Parks and Maier…they seem more creative than the average photographer.
Perhaps these artists are more creative because they have focused on their creative side more. I spent 50 years focusing on the technical and my creativity atrophied. Can I really expect to be their creative equal after only a few years practice?
If you want to be creative, focus on the creative.
Review Santa Fe
Finding My Vision
Several years ago I was attending Review Santa Fe where over the course of a day my work was evaluated by a number of gallery owners, curators, publishers and “experts” in the field.
During the last review of a very long day, the reviewer quickly looked at my work, brusquely pushed it back to me and said “It looks like you’re trying to copy Ansel Adams.” I replied that I was, because I loved his work! He then said something that would change my life:
“Ansel’s already done Ansel and you’re not going to do him any better. What can you create that shows your unique vision?”
Those words really stung, but over the next two years the message did sink in: Was it my life’s ambition to be known as the world’s best Ansel Adams imitator? Had I no higher aspirations than that?
I desperately wanted to know if I had a Vision, but there was a huge problem: what exactly was Vision and how did I develop it?
I researched Vision but I couldn’t relate to the definitions and explanations that I found. Was it a look, a style or a technique? Was it something you were born with or something you developed?
And then there was the nagging doubt: what if I didn’t have a Vision? I feared that it was something you either “had” or you “didn’t have” and perhaps I did not?
And how was I to go about finding my Vision?
With so many unanswered questions and with no idea on how to proceed, I simply forged ahead with what made sense to me. I came up with 10 ideas that would help me determine if I had a Vision.
I really was proceeding blindly, but I believed that if I listened to my own desires, pursued what I loved and eliminated all other voices, I would learn something about my Vision.
I did this for two years and there were many times that I became discouraged and didn’t feel like I was making any progress. I didn’t really know what I expected to happen, perhaps I thought I’d have a revelatory experience where my Vision would suddenly appear in a moment of inspiration!
But that didn’t happen.
And then one day it just occurred to me: I understood…I understood what my Vision was.
It came in an anti-climatic and quiet moment of understanding, and after all of that worrying and angst…it now seemed so incredibly simple. Vision was not something I needed to acquire or develop, it had been there all along and all that I needed to do was to “discover” it.
Vision is simply how you see the world!
Vision was simply the sum total of my life experiences that caused me to see the world in a unique way. When I looked at a scene and imagined it a certain way…that was my vision.
My Vision had always been there, but over the years it had been obscured by what I call “Vision Blockers.” Some of my Vision Blockers were:
- Valuing other people’s opinions over my own
- Imitating other photographer’s work, look or style
- Creating for recognition
- Following the rules
- Conforming
- Caring what others think of my work
Once I learned to “let go” of all of these bad habits and insecurities, my Vision was set free. It was no longer constrained by rules, expectations or dishonest motives. It was such a great feeling to know that I could do anything that I wanted, nothing or no one could hold me back.
After finding my Vision and living with it for a while, I came to conclude that Vision has little to do with photography or art, but has more to do with being a well-adjusted, confident and independent human being. Once I had the confidence to pursue my art on my terms, I was free to pursue my Vision without fear of rejection or need for acceptance.
Something else I learned about Vision: it is not a look or a style. It does not force you to focus on one subject or genre and following your Vision will not make all your work look the same.
Vision gives you the freedom to pursue any subject, create in any style and do anything that you want.
Lone Man No. 35
Wanting More Than Winning Ribbons and Earning Likes
I talked about how winning was increasingly leaving me with this empty and hollow feeling. The problem I concluded, were my motives. I wasn’t creating for myself, but rather I was creating for validation, accolades and wins.
When I created for accolades, my motives were not “honest” because I was creating for the wrong reasons. And when I created for other’s approval, the images were not really mine.
I wanted to love my work even if other people did not. I wanted my opinion of my images to be the only one that mattered.
Learning to do this was hard and uncomfortable work, it required me to honestly evaluate my motives. At one point I asked myself this question:
If I had to choose between creating images that I loved,
or images that sold and won accolades, which would I choose?
It was really, really hard to be completely honest with myself, and it still is. I love the win, the attention, the likes…but if that is the reason why I create, then my work will not fulfill me and it will fail to convey conviction to the viewer.
The Road to Nowhere No. 1
Sometimes I still create dishonest images, and each time I see them I feel a pang of guilt. The Road to Nowhere No. 1 (above) is one such image (but that’s a story for a future article).
Conclusion
What I’ve learned and believe is:
- We all have the ability to be creative, even the biggest, nerdiest, technical photo nut among us. Even those who insist they are not creative. Even those who have just read this article and still insist they are not creative.
- We all have a Vision, in fact you cannot not have a Vision. Vision is simply how you see the world when you strip away all of your Vision Blockers.
- Creating images for yourself and images that you love will bring meaning and satisfaction to your photography that far outlasts accolades, wins and likes.
If you find yourself where I was 15 years ago, and you want more…then I’m here to tell you that it’s possible.
How do you get started? Try reading my article on ”
How I found My Vision ” for some ideas on how to proceed.
Cole
P.S. And after reading the article, please don’t write to tell me how much you disagree with Photographic Celibacy! I know, I know, I know
Five Simple Steps to Create Award Winning Images
You clicked on this link? Seriously, how gullible are you?
There are no simple steps or secret tips to creating a great image. If anything the title of this article should read:
5 Hard Things You Must Do To Create Images That YOU Love.
That’s the reality.
My goal is to create images that I love (not award winning images) and there are no set of rules, no camera, no magic settings, no new gadget, no plugin or secret technique that’s going to transform my work.
It takes hard work. It takes introspection. It takes persistence.
Since I tricked you into clicking on this link, I feel obligated to give you five tips. So here they are:
1. There are no simples steps!
It takes hard work to find and follow your Vision, to know what you love and then to single-mindedly pursue it.
2. A “great image” has little to do with your equipment.
Never has owning a prime lens, shooting at the optimal aperture or having a better camera made a poor image good or a good image great.
A friend and I were recently looking at one of Dorothea Lang’s images when we noticed that it was not very sharp. And yet that did not detract from the image. The image was powerful because of her Vision, not because of her equipment.
3. Don’t follow rules but rather see for yourself.
Rules are for people who have not yet found their Vision. Instead of following rules that will take you down the path millions of others are following, find your own Vision and create your own path!
Ansel Adams said “There are no rules for good photographs, there are only good photographs.“
4. Create for yourself!
Create an image that you love and don’t be concerned if others will like it. Don’t worry if your photo club expert “Herb” will like it and don’t be concerned if it will win a contest or get a lot of likes.
Care only what you think of the image and don’t worry how anyone else will receive it. You are not creating for them (at least you shouldn’t be).
5. Create an image and then be brutally honest with yourself about it.
Ask yourself:
Do I love this image?
What do I like or dislike about it?
What would I do differently next time?
Is this image good enough?
That last question, “is this image good enough” requires so much honesty! If the image isn’t quite up to snuff…then admit it, trash it and move on.
And PLEASE don’t ask other people these questions about your work, you must answer them for yourself and then work to improve. This is hard introspective work and you must do it over and over again.
________________________________
The next time you’re tempted to click on a link that offers a secret something, a simple something or a new something that will transform your work into award winning images…save your time and money and instead Find your Vision and work to create images that you really, really love.
Cole
How important is your equipment?
Not nearly as important as you think!
I was recently attending a photography convention and got to see the new Fuji 102mp medium-format camera. One word comes to mind:
Wow!
The Fuji rep let me take it outside for a spin and the images and resolution were incredibly impressive. Sharp beyond sharp!
I started drooling, and calculating, and rationalizing why I needed this camera.
But then I heard my own words echoing in my head: great images are rarely about sharpness or technical perfection. It’s about Vision, creativity, feeling and soul.
If I had to choose between the worlds best equipment and no Vision, or a Kodak Brownie and my Vision…I’ll take the Brownie. Why? Because with Vision even a Brownie is enough.
Of course equipment is important, but it’s not the key to a great image.
Ansel Adams said:
“There is nothing worse than a sharp image of a fuzzy concept.”
That “concept” or Vision is much more important than sharpness or technical perfection.
Look at my Old Car Interior above, it was created with an 8 mp sensor. Would it have been a better image if it had been created with a 102 mp camera?
It certainly would have been sharper, but I doubt it would have been better.
Harbinger No. 38
And then there is the low-quality, small-sensor cell phone. Increasingly I’ve incorporated iPhone images into my portfolios. Why? Because it was the camera I had at the moment of inspiration.
The Harbinger image above was created with my iPhone, as were these following images:
Peterhof Trees
Deep Snow
Everybody’s Got Something to Hide…
Community of Christ Temple
Snow on Steps
How good is good enough? Most of the cameras we use today, including the iPhone, is better than the equipment the great masters had in their day.
Creating a great image is not about having better equipment, it takes something more. I love this quote by Edward Weston:
“The fact is that relatively few photographers ever master their medium. Instead they allow the medium to master them and go on an endless squirrel cage chase from new lens to new paper to new developer to new gadget, never staying with one piece of equipment long enough to learn its full capacities, becoming lost in a maze of technical information that is of little or no use since they don’t know what to do with it.”
Because they don’t know what to do with it…
It’s not that I’m against better equipment, but I am against chasing better equipment with the false hope that it will improve my work. Only improving my Vision and creativity can do that.
How important is your equipment?
Not nearly as important as you think!
Dark Sheep
Even though I’ve been photographing in Black and White since 1968, I consider the years from 2004 to present to be my important ones. It was during these years that I found my Vision and pursued my Passion.
Poudre River Spillway
During the last 15 years my work has changed in many ways and I’d like to illustrate one of them: my work has become more simple.
Railroad Tracks
I’ve always loved simple images but it wasn’t until the last few years that I consistently started to create them.
Swimming Towards the Light
It wasn’t really a conscious decision to simplify my images, it just “sorta” happened as a by-product of another decision.
Chuzenji-ko
Several years ago I decided to simplify my equipment and processes.
String of Pearls
I was spending too much time tinkering, adjusting and fixing things and I wanted to instead focus on what was important. I think that this philosophy of simplicity spilled over into my images.
Lone Man No. 35
So what do I mean by a simple image?
Gull and Moon
For me, it’s an image with fewer visual elements and less detail.
Lone Man No. 7
Like in the “Lone Man” image above, there are only three elements and very little detail.
Four Silos
The fewer the elements and the less detail, the simpler the image is.
Dew on Feather
Even though this image has a lot of detail, I have darkened the sand detail so that it doesn’t compete with the feather, but rather makes it the focal point.
Beneath the Clouds
Simple images are, well, simple.
Monolith No. 27
And I generally don’t find them this way, I create them this way.
Minneapolis Power Lines
Sometimes “simple” comes from the composition: what you include in the frame, but more often what you don’t include.
Five Sticks
Sometimes what you don’t include is just as important as what you do include.
Iceland No. 12
I always ask myself two questions: what do I want the eye to focus on? What’s my focal point?
Fluid Water No. 45
And: what’s not needed?
Deep Snow
Another element of “simple” is to eliminate detail.
Separation No. 2
Yesterday I was looking at an HDR black and white image and it suddenly occurred to me why I don’t care for them. The wide dynamic range includes too much detail, I find it distracting because it obscures the focal point.
Hana
That certainly would have been the case with this image if I would have preserved all the shadow detail in the rock, it would have overwhelmed the image.
Melting Giants No. 22
One of my oft used tools to remove detail is the long exposure. I use it to smooth out detail in water and sky.
Isolated No. 15
This image, without the long exposure would not be nearly as clean or effective.
Faroe Islands No. 6
Another technique I love to use is burning down detail. While many photographers work to preserve shadow detail, I purposely eliminate most or all of it. When I do leave some shadow detail, it’s very subdued.
Monolith No. 62
Many of my images are very dark because I burn out all of the detail. This helps to simplify them.
They Walk Among Us
And sometimes I’ll do the opposite and dodge up the image to eliminate or reduce detail except where I’d like your attention to go, the focal point.
Lone Man, Zabriskie Point
This image has a lot of detail, but it’s been pulled way back into the background by lightening it, leaving the lone man as the focus.
Dunes of Nude No. 73
And sometimes I both dodge and burn, bringing up the subject and burning down the surrounding area.
Isolated No. 20
That’s what I did with this image, I darkened much of it to reduce the amount of detail and brightened the areas I wanted to focus the eye on.
Run Aground
However I do it, simplifying the image always seems to make it better. It pushes the eye to the Focal Point.
Dunes of Nude No. 86
It is true that sometimes, less can be more.
St Louis Arch
I love Black and White and I like it simple. Simple is often better.
Cole
Palms, Rapa Nui
A photographer friend, George Digalakis, asked me to write this article for his blog: Inspirational Places. You can read the original article here: https://www.digalakisphotography.com/inspirations/ct-ei
My Favorite Location:
How does one choose their favorite location? It would be like choosing your favorite image or favorite child!
Sometimes it seems like the last location is always my favorite location. And philosophically, I don’t believe an exotic location should be necessary for creating a great image. My philosophical hero, Edward Weston, said the following when he was confined to a chair with Parkinson’s:
I should be able to look down at my feet and see something to photograph
But I have been fortunate to travel to many incredible locations. And of all the places I’ve been, Easter Island has been the most significant to me. Why? Because it has been on my mind ever since I read Thor Heyerdahl’s book “Aku Aku” when I was 17 years old.
Now fast forward 47 years to when my wife and I were compiling our bucket list and I mentioned that I’d love to add Easter Island to the list, but that it really wasn’t feasible. My wife asked: why not? I didn’t really have an answer and so off we went in 2015.
Easter Island is known as the world’s most isolated inhabited place. I tell people that it’s really not that hard to get to, but it isn’t for the faint of wallet. It’s an expensive journey.
Easter Island is small, about 7 by 15 miles and has about 5500 inhabitants, some of which are the native Rapa Nui and also many Chileans. Only the Rapa Nui can own land on Easter Island.
Easter Island is best known for its Moai, those monolithic statues carved by the ancients. There are about 1000 Moai on the island and about 30 standing on several different ahu’s or alters.
I spent two weeks there, circumnavigate the island 3-5 times each day. I focused almost exclusively on the Moai and created three portfolios:
The Moai of Rano Raraku
Standing Moai
Moai, Sitting for Portrait
The portfolio I am most proud of is the “Moai, Sitting for Portrait” and how it came about. Here is my artist statement:
In January of 2015 I spent two weeks photographing the Moai of Easter Island. This fulfilled a lifelong dream, one that started when I was 17 and read the book “Aku Aku” by Thor Heyerdahl. I became fascinated with the Moai and they have been on my mind and influenced my art for these many years.
As I traveled to Easter Island and tried to imagine what I would encounter, something interesting happened: I fell asleep and dreamt that I had invited the Moai to come and sit for a formal portrait.
When I awoke I thought “why not?”
I knew there would be challenges: the Moai are reserved, aloof and almost unapproachable. They had suffered greatly at the hands of outsiders and the question was: would they come to trust me?
Distance was the first hurdle to be overcome: the island is small by automobile standards, but when we are talking about the Moai who walk everywhere, traversing the island to get to my makeshift studio could be difficult. Then there was the Moai’s physical condition: many were incapacitated by war and the ravages of time and could not make the journey. And how would I accommodate the size of the Moai, with some towering 33 feet tall?
Facing these challenges and armed with nothing more than a dream and hope, I issued the invitations…but would they come?
Initially only a few came; the younger and less suspicious ones. But slowly, as word spread of their experience, others started to arrive.
Photographing the Moai created some interesting situations: one older Moai refused to allow me to photograph his face and turned his back on the camera. Another arrived with a hawk and insisted on having his portrait taken with the bird atop his head. Several Moai with bullet wounds, inflicted by outsiders, insisted that I document those scars.
And there were tense moments, as two rival Moai came together face-to-face in the studio, but which ended well when they agreed to be photographed together. And there were touching moments as old friends were reunited after years of separation.
The Moai are quiet, stoic and could even been described as “stone-faced.” And it’s true, not once was I able to photograph a Moai smiling, but instead they have a dignified poise that transcends time.
It was a lifelong dream that brought me to Easter Island and a sleeping dream that caused me to create this portfolio.
See all of the Moai portraits here
Dunes of Nude No. 227
In my last blog post I strongly suggested that people should not to listen to other people’s advice, and someone called me on that advice! He reminded me that one of the best lessons I’ve ever learned came from following someone else‘s advice (Ansel’s already done Ansel)
He’s right, sometimes you should listen to the lessons taught by others! I’d like to share five lessons I’ve learned from important people in my life.
Mr. Casey
Mr. Casey owned Casey’s Camera in Rochester, NY. Upon discovering photography at age 14, I visited the camera shop frequently…probably much too frequently. I was there all the time; talking, asking questions and buying old cameras which I would then trade in a month later. No matter how long I was there, how many questions I asked, how many times I traded in cameras…he was always patient and kind.
It wasn’t until some 40 years later that I came to appreciate how very kind and patient he had been with me.
And so I decided to track down Mr. Casey and thank him for his kindness, but I wasn’t even sure if he was still alive. I searched Rochester for Casey’s camera and came up empty but did find a Casey’s Camera in Las Vegas. I thought that was an odd coincidence and so I called the camera store and asked if they knew a Mr. Casey. The employee who answered said he had never heard of a Mr. Casey and didn’t know how their store had come by that name. Just as we were ending the call, I heard someone in the background yell: Mr. Casey, Dick Casey?
It turns out that this man had purchased the store from Dick Casey after he had moved it to Las Vegas and then retired. He didn’t know if Mr. Casey was still alive, but he knew that he had retired to Pennsylvania.
After a little research I found Mr. Casey and he was still alive. I spoke to him on the phone and told him my story and thanked him for his patience and kindness. He apologized because he had the beginnings of Alzheimer’s and could not remember me or those experiences. And it didn’t matter that he couldn’t remember, I was grateful to be able to thank him and register an important life lesson: be kind to the little people…figuratively and literally.
Joe Boyle
Joe ran Leonard’s Camera Department in Garden Grove where I worked. Joe had been a combat photographer in World War II and after the war, he worked for the Hollywood studios taking stills for promotional purposes. Joe became more than a boss to me, he was also a friend and a mentor.
Joe’s approach to photography was different than what I had seen and experienced: he learned photography in the depression era and practiced it in wartime conditions, where you had to make do with what you had on hand. This gave Joe the ability to solve any photographic problem with without heading to the camera store to purchase a solution. Joe’s solutions may not have been pretty or fancy, but they did the job.
Once Joe taught me how to remove telephone lines from an image, not in the darkroom, but in the camera. He put his camera on a tripod and composed the scene. He then mounted an 8X10 piece of glass a few inches from the lens and while looking through the camera, used a Q-Tip to paint Vaseline over the telephone lines on the glass. The Vaseline would blur the telephone lines, rendering them invisible. It was beautiful in its simplicity and effectiveness.
I learned two lessons from Joe: the first is that you don’t need the best equipment to create great images. And second, that if you have a problem, figure it out!
John Holland
John was my photo teacher at Loara High School and my friend for life. I skipped most classes in my junior and senior year (barely graduating) and held my own “independent study” in the photo department.
John was a “creative” and so much more than just a photographer. Besides photographing he painted, sculpted, designed and was an all-round creative person. The thing that I learned from John (although the lesson didn’t sink in until much later in life) was that photography was not really about photographing, but about creating.
John had a huge influence on my photography and my life. I created the image “John Holland Memorial” in his honor as we gathered in the High Sierra to spread his ashes.
John Holland Memorial
I miss John, he died too young.
Mr. X
I call this next person Mr. X because I don’t know his name. For those of you who have read some of my blogs or attended one of my presentations, you will be familiar with this story:
A few years ago I was attending Review Santa Fe where over the course of a day my work was evaluated by a number of gallery owners, curators, publishers and “experts” in the field.
During the last review of a very long day, the reviewer quickly looked at my work, brusquely pushed it back to me and said “It looks like you’re trying to copy Ansel Adams.” I replied that I was, because I loved his work! He then said something that would change my life:
“Ansel’s already done Ansel and you’re not going to do him any better. What can you create that shows your unique vision?”
Those words really stung, but the message did sink in: Was it my life’s ambition to be known as the world’s best Ansel Adams imitator? Had I no higher aspirations than that?
That sent me on a journey to find out if I had a Vision. I did and it changed not only my photography, but my life.
Vered Galor
Vered befriended me and became my mentor shortly after my return to photography in 2004.
She and I were exact opposites in one respect, she was an artist who used a camera and I was a photographer who used a camera. She created while I documented and we had many spirited discussions about that. I had grown up with a photographer’s mentality and for me there was no worse sin than to “manipulate” an image. Vered was an artist and tried to convince me to create, which I resisted.
I am grateful that Vered was even more stubborn than I was, and did not give up on me. This is the first image that I felt that I had “created” from my Vision, and not just documented:
The Angel Gabriel
There are many great lessons to be learned from others, some come from advice given and others come from examples lived.
Cole
