photography
In this video, I expand a little bit more on the post from a couple of days ago, Who are you creating for?.
By the way, this video is from my second channel, @aows.jpg, where I talk all things photography. One I created to keep my main channel cleaner, but you can read more about that here.
Scotland has been quite a challenging place to photograph, to say the least. For most of my time here, the rain and wind made my job incredibly difficult.
My gear took some damage (exhibit 1, 2 and 3), but I also had to endure the elements myself.
And yet, these challenges made me a better photographer. Scotland pushed me, but it did so in a very positive way. I had to work hard, really hard, but without being overwhelmed by impossible conditions, even though I did face some of those moments.
I feel like I've grown as a photographer more in the last 2 months than in the entire past year, since I went on a similar adventure across Norway. It was tough, even painful at times, but I cherished every minute of it.
Testing our limits, wherever they may lie, is key to growth and progression. Photography is no exception.
From my experience, a photographer's audience is comprised of mainly two groups: people who enjoy their images; and other photographers.
The latter is a much larger group than the former, and that's why many photographers seem to be creating for others like them.
Take a look at the screenshot above showing the most watched videos on my YouTube channel: many more people want to hear about an 8-year-old camera that is not being made anymore, than to see what can be done with it.
Photography is such an accessible medium (everyone with a smartphone is a photographer!), that most people will come at it from the perspective of a photographer rather than a passive viewer.
Everyone wants to become a better photographer, the faster the better. That's why talking about camera gear sells, or why arguments over ISO values are a thing.
Some photographers have had so much success with this approach that they all but stopped taking pictures. They've become extremely knowledgeable about cameras and lenses, but they might have forgotten how to use them.
However, I'm not here to shame anyone --that expertise is extremely valuable, and we should consider ourselves lucky enough to have it available out there, mostly for free.
But I doubt this was what most of us had envisioned when we first picked up a camera. This is simply a reminder to everyone out there -including myself- to never forget why we started taking pictures in the first place, and who we are creating for.
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Sometimes, I'll rewatch some of my older videos. I love the work I did in the Great Salt Lake, or in the beautiful Lofoten Islands, among many others. But I have never, ever, rewatched any of my top 10 most viewed videos -- the ones focused on camera gear or the technical aspects of photography. And I think that speaks volumes.
Still, the reality of photography is what it is, and that's one of the reasons why I decided to create a second channel a few months ago. I haven't uploaded any video for a while there, but I'm about to start very soon. That is "content" aimed to photographers and nothing else. The main channel will become a sort of sacred place where I shall talk less and less about photography, and more about the why we create.
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Update: I expand on this a bit more in this video.
Cormac McCarthy died yesterday at the age of 89. According to Wikipedia, McCarthy is "widely regarded as one of the greatest modern American writers".
What I didn't know about him is that after 26 years of writing, none of McCarthy's novels "had sold more than 5,000 hardcover copies". He was labelled the "best unknown novelist in America".
He spent half of his long writing career as a mostly unknown writer. Success did eventually come to McCarthy, though, and only then his early work was appreciated the way it deserved.
The arts, and that includes photography, are not a meritocracy: good work, even outstanding work, is not a guarantee of success.
Another lesson we can take from his example and many similar others is that success is a lagging indicator. The same goes for failure, by the way.
We do not become what we are today overnight; it's only after weeks, months, years, decades, of hard work (or the lack of) that we achieve results (or not). It took McCarthy 26 years of dedication, of not giving up, to get significant recognition.
At the same time, in order to survive for that long, we should not make that kind of success our end goal. Would you be able to yearn for public recognition for a quarter of a century and still find the strength to keep going? I know I would not, I would've given up.
It's only when we find joy in what we do, and when we set our own definition of success, what that looks like for us, that we have a chance to succeed. And even if that never comes, at least we have poured our souls into our work and shared it with whoever was there to listen to us.
I watched with interest the recent presentation of Apple's AR/VR headset, Vision Pro. I was hoping for a use case that wasn't playing games, watching TV, or pretending to be a legless avatar.
While Vision Pro seems to be a device geared towards consumption for the most part, I can see huge potential on the productive side of things as well.
I was very happy to see that the headset can work as a portable, private, and pretty big monitor to a Macbook. As someone who doesn't have a permanent home, much less an office, this can be a big deal for me. Especially when I'm on the road.
During photography road trips, I spend most nights in my car, where space is... well, very limited. I still haven't found a way to work on my computer for long periods of time that is comfortable and doesn't break my back.
An AR/VR headset could solve this problem. I can't wait for the day I can have a 27" virtual monitor (or two, or three) to work on Lightroom and Final Cut Pro in the back of my small SUV.
I'm still a bit skeptical (is the resolution of the headset going to be enough for this use case?), even more considering the price point of this thing, but I'm excited for a future where I could work from anywhere as comfortably as I would in a proper office.
Photographers may or may not make a living by photography, but they are alive by it ~ Robert Adams
The spring is a very challenging time for me. Foggy, rainy and cold days are mostly gone, as hot and sunny weather takes over. But even worse than that are my allergies.
Going out to take some photos becomes an exercise in overcoming the discomfort, pushing through the misery at times.
Thankfully, I started taking an allergy pill that seems to be working. It's not perfect, but it makes being out bearable. So I've been taking more pictures lately and the change in my mood has been nothing short of amazing.
I went from feeling a bit sluggish, tired, to feeling more alive and optimistic. And I didn't have to go anywhere to feel that way! Just walking the very same roads, streets and paths I walk everyday. That's the power of the camera.
Just another reminder (in case I needed one!) that this is what photography... daily photography, does to us.
An idea from Lynda Barry's What it is that resonated with me. The image as a place you create; similar to the real one you photographed, but different. A place that used to live in your imagination, and is brought into existance through your camera.
Creating a meaningful body of work takes time -- a lot of time. We need to be patient, believe in yourselves, and keep looking for images everywhere, everyday.
Remember that photography is a long term game, something we need to do as often as possible. Because even the tiniest contributions add up.
I've been working on some old photos. I just got to the ones I made in the magical forest of Fanal, in Madeira. It's been more than a year and a half since then, and I still get goosebumps when I see those images show up on my laptop.
Even though going through so many photographs takes quite some time, I really appreciate the fact that I took that many. Take the ones above as an example: the same composition, captured several times with just slight variations.
While always important, this is even more relevant when there is an interplay between the subject and other elements, or when there are two or more subjects (like in these images, you could argue).
All of the photos above could've worked just fine, as they all captured what I saw there. Two stunning trees entangled in a beautiful dance. The small variations I captured here don't make that much of a difference and yet, I always find one or two that I like more the rest, for whatever reason.
That's why I find it so important to take multiple shots of the same composition, with tiny variations. It can be very hard to decide which one is the best one in the field, especially when the conditions are changing by the second (like they do in Fanal).
As I usually say, if it feels right, shoot it. Make the call later.
“You can’t connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future” - Steve Jobs
Unlike many other photographers, I don't have a specific mission to accomplish with my work. No bosses, no clients, no guidance of any kind. I have no idea what I will be photographing next week, let alone in 5 years.
With this incredible flexibility comes a huge amount of doubt: where to go, what to photograph, where to share it, which camera I should use. It's all to me, and it can be a heavy burden at times, as I second-guess myself very often. Did I make the right call?
It's hard to see the path when it's being carved right after you. Only when I look back (contact sheets are great for that) I see it clearly. It's not a straight path but a very windy one, with plenty of detours and diversions. But it's a path.
I don't know here it will lead me, if anywhere at all. All I can do is to have some faith, to embrace the unknown of what lies ahead, and keep pushing.
In the end, it will all make sense. Or so we hope.
Put the camera away and enjoy the moment. Or so they say.
Certainly, there are moments when we should drop everything and just take it all in, especially when there's interaction with other people.
And there's no better way to worsen the experience than sharing the pictures right away, while you are still in that moment. That's why I don't like phones for photography.
A standalone camera, though, will never take you away from the moment. It will only enrich it.
It makes the experience better because it is through the camera that we try to find what makes a moment especial, a face beautiful, a place memorable. We examine what we have in front of us through the camera, and see things we wouldn't have otherwise. It makes us pay closer attention.
This is the gift photography gives us: a tool to see what we weren't able to see before.
Being in good physical shape is a usually overlooked skill in a photographer, especially those who do most of their work outdoors.
The 3-month-long road trip across Norway I embarked on last year definitely took a toll on me, as I went from walking / running more than 10 miles a day to sitting in a car most of the time.
Even though I do a lot of road side photography, being in good shape means more stamina and mental clarity. Something I've clearly been lacking during the last few weeks.
This is hard to measure objectively, but I have noticed that I tend to make better images while on some training program, or immediately after. When I let myself go for a bit, the quality of my work eventually follows by going down.
While this winter hasn't brought as much snow as I was hoping for here in Indiana, I've been working hard on other aspects of my photography (like my contact sheets and my upcoming book "Memorias na néboa"). And that includes getting my body ready.
It's been just a few weeks of training; outside and, when the weather is too nasty, on the treadmill facing an empty wall. As weird as it might sound, I'm convinced those hours spent staring at nothing in the garage will translate into good images in the months to come.
Remember: photography is something you have to do every day, and that doesn't always means taking pictures.
If you've ever felt an urge to grab your camera and start taking photos after seeing a great image from another photographer, this one is for you.
I keep a folder -aptly named "Inspiration"- in the Notes app on my phone with a collection of images that, for whatever reason, inspire me. Most are from photographers I admire, some are random online finds.
Sometimes, when I'm not feeling it, I open that folder and start scrolling through those images. More often than not, this simple act puts me in the right mood and I start seeing.
Perhaps, this is something you want to try yourself.
Inspiration can spread like wildfire.
Camera companies don't sell cameras, or lenses; they are trying to sell us an idea, a hope: buy this piece of equipment and you will become someone else, an adventurer, an explorer; finally being able to make the images you've always wanted to make.
We take the bait, and it feels good for a few hours, or a few days. Photography feels exciting again! But of course, nothing lasts forever, the hedonic treadmill works its magic and we are back to base one, feeling uninspired, until another sale tries to convince us once again that we can get there by purchasing yet something else.
Camera companies, like every retailer during this time of the year, are playing with our feelings of dissatisfaction. Perhaps with our own work, or something else. A feeling we can easily get rid of with just a quick and easy purchase.
As a photographer, I've been and I am there. I too feel dissatisfied, and spend way too much time thinking of camera gear and other easy ways to battle those feelings.
Even during this road trip across Norway I'm on, whenever I felt uninspired and couldn't find any images, I started to fantasize with what other places I should visit next. Almost wishing I was somewhere else. Imagine that, being in Norway and thinking that way!
I speak only from my personal experience, but I believe that these feelings are normal and natural to us. Perhaps, even the source of our creativity. The desire to create something new, the urge to keep getting out, the itch to explore and discover the world.
I think this is our curse, something we will experience as long as we are still growing. I believe that the moment we stop having these feelings, we will have stopped improving. And that'll probably be a sad moment.
So, be aware of this. We feel dissatisfied because we are still growing as photographers, as artists. Recognize that feeling for what it is. Look at it from a distance. Try to accept it. Don't let it define you. Be kind to yourself.
And then, grab your camera and go out make some pictures. That's still the best remedy I've found to put these feelings down.
It feels like it was a few days ago when I hit the road, but it’s been almost 4 months since I left to embark on this road trip across Norway. What an incredible experience this was! I will never forget waking up to these stunning landscapes, having breakfast out in nature, and the nights falling asleep to the sound of nearby streams.
As time passed, though, my sensitivity to these landscapes and to the experience itself decreased. I don't want to say I took it all for granted, but I got used to it somewhat. It always happens to me, no matter where I am.
Even though we human beings don't like change, we can become accustomed to almost any situation given enough time. Perhaps, this is why I keep moving every few weeks, every few months. No permanent home, always on the move, carrying all my possessions with me across two continents.
Despite all the downsides of this lifestyle -and it has plenty of them-, the main reason I like living this way is because it exposes the true nature of time. I don't let myself get used to anything for too long. There's always a feeling of urgency, of trying to take it all in while it lasts, because there's an expiration date.
The deadline for my time in Norway is approaching quickly, and I know I will miss these drives along the Norwegian lakes and fjords very much. Very soon, all of this will be just a memory of something that happened in the past. A memory I'll have to fight to keep alive.
But as they say, every beginning is another beginning's end. In a few weeks, Norway will be over, and I'll be back in Spain. Shortly after, I'll leave for the US. And not too long after that, I'll be taking another plane back to Europe.
We are running out of time, even if we don't notice its passing. Let's take it all in while we can.
It feels like a wildfire inside you, one that won't stop until you start creating something.
The sheer amount of amazing images being made nowadays can be overwhelming. “Comparison is the thieve of joy”; and today, there’s no shortage of photographs to compare ours to. This can make us feel miserable.
This is why I don’t consume a lot of photography. I follow a handful of photographers whose work I admire, enough to get some inspiration every once in a while, and focus all my energy on developing my own vision and approach to the medium.
Simply copying someone else’s work won’t lead us anywhere, but constantly trying to stand out among the crowd can be even worse. Our work shouldn’t be based on what others have or haven’t done. We need to stop trying to be unique, because we already are.
“The prize never goes to the fastest guy. It goes to the guy who slows down the least.” ~ Finding Ultra
Photography is not a marathon. It’s a million marathons, one after the other.
You can find some success with a lucky image, but a body of work is done and built over decades of dedication to the craft. Day after day.
This means taking new photos as often as possible, but also working on the ones we’ve already taken. Reflecting on them. Putting them in books, publishing them online, sharing our experiences. Day after day.
Photography is relatively easy, there’s no secret to it: no magic setting we are yet to discover, no better camera we should buy, no missing preset we should get, no discontinued film stock we should miss.
Everyone wants a shortcut because the truth is boring: it’s about putting the work, the hours, about never giving up. And the prize is that we get to do it again tomorrow.
A stable and repetitive life is probably bad for photography, and art in general. If we believe our photography is a reflection of our lives -as I do-, then doing interesting stuff should lead to compelling images.
On the other hand, being on the move the whole time won't leave us any time to actually process what we've done. We need to take a moment to look at the map to check where we are, and to appreciate what we've done.
There's a time to be moving, and there's a time to reflect.
As you know, I'm a big fan of local photography, but I also love to shake things up with the occasional road trip. It's in the combination of the routine, the boring, the repetitive... and the new, the exciting, the chaos... that I thrive the most.
I credit our nomadic lifestyle and the balance between chaos and routine it creates, as one the reasons why I am so committed to my photography.
Every time we move (and that might happen a few times a year), our physical location is just one of the things that change in our lives: diet, habits, language we speak at the grocery store, people we interact with on a daily basis... but eventually, one adapts to the new reality. Routine always finds a way.
Have you tried turning it off and on again?
As annoying as this question might be, there's a reason why it's the first one customer support asks -- it usually fixes the problem.
Perhaps, we need to perform a little reset on ourselves every once in a while, too.
Cameras are too good, they capture too much detail. We need to make photography imperfect again.
