Fear of Rejection

As I wrote in the post Getting Across to the Other Side earlier this year, any creative endeavour—whether writing a book, making a painting, doing a photo project, building a blog—can be compared with climbing or walking across a canyon. You begin the project with a clear plan and great enthusiasm, but as you engage in the work your energy for the project begins to fade. However, if you stick with the project through the deepest part of the canyon and keep pushing up again on the other side, you will be greatly rewarded.

As I wrote in the post; the key is to remain focused on your vision and embrace the journey.

Unfortunately, many people experience the struggles at the bottom of the canyon and misinterpret them that they are in the wrong place. They believe that if they were on the right path, everything would fall into place easily.

The thing is; you will rarely be certain you are moving in the right direction, especially when you are headed into unchartered, creative territory. The creative pursuit is about not only recognizing the potential of risk but embracing it as an essential part of growth. If you don’t challenge yourself you will not develop creatively.

Moves that appear the least risky in the short term are often the most risky moves in the long term, because they keep you among the huddled masses of those who are doing expected, mediocre work. The unspoken truth is that very few people ever become comfortable with risk, but brilliant contributors recognize that without measured risk in your life you will not grow.

Over time, this daily uncertainty and the lack of guaranteed results can cause our passion to wane, squelch our ambition, or, worse, cause us to settle into a pattern of producing work that we know does not the reflect the true power of our authentic voice. The better we understand the hurdles that stand in our way, the better equipped we will be to tap into the practices that will aid us in countermanding them.

One of those hurdles is the fear of pursuing our authentic voice. Because that means to break out of the conformity of our culture or the society with which we identify. It’s tough to be seen as different or as an outlier, and that’s exactly what an authentic voice makes us become.

At its heart, the fear of not fitting in is a fear of rejection, often stemming from the concern that poor performance will mean alienation from the group, a degradation of self-worth or self-perception and possible loss of livelihood. Most of us have experienced this fear, whether asked to offer our opinion in a meeting, to deliver a proposal for a new direction for a project, or when simply considering whether or not to share some work we’ve been toiling away in private.

If you want to do unique, contributive work, and develop your voice, you must have the courage to offend. You must recognize that there will be people who just don’t get it, and muster the courage to keep moving forward anyway. You need to be willing to act on your intuitive hunches.

There are plenty of examples of artists and creatives who went against the tide of their time or authorities of their field—and ended up changing our perspective. F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby, widely hailed as one of the greatest books of the twentieth century, was once rejected by a publishing executive who said, “You’d have a decent book if you’d get rid of that Gatsby character.” In 1962, Decca recording executive Dick Rowe reportedly told Brian Epstein, manager of The Beatles, “We don’t like their sound. Groups of guitars are on the way out”.

I have certainly had my share of rejections. It’s not enjoyable, not at all. Sometimes, I have been completely devastated by those rejections, wanting to give up. But as I have grown older, I have learned to accept that many, and even most, people might not be interested or like what I do with my photography. Now I don’t take it personally. What drives me to keep on photographing, is the joy of creating, photographing, being able to convey those emotions that made me want to take a photograph in the first place. I want to connect with an audience, but I don’t want to hold back in fear of their rejections. If only a handful appreciate a photo of mine, that will suffice.

I keep walking my path, in whichever direction it takes me.

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Where Are You Going?

Have you ever heard yourself speaking or singing on a recording? I still remember the first time this happened to me. When I played back the recording I couldn’t believe how much different I sounded than I had expected. It was as if I was listening to a completely different person. Was this my voice?

Of course, this is how it feels the first time for everybody. The discrepancy is caused by the resonance created in our skull combined with the direct passage of sound waves between the oral cavity and the inner ears. The difference between what we are used to hear and what our voice actually sounds like is for many an insurmountable barrier; so much that many end up hating hearing their own, recorded voice.

I think the same dynamic plays out with many creative people’s metaphorical, artistic voice. As much as we urge for our own, distinct voice, many are unaware of how they artistically communicate with others. Worse, this lack of awareness means whatever they create is inconsistent with whom they really are—and perhaps even deeply disconnected from their passions and ambitions. They project who they think they should be, and ignore the deeper signals about who they really are.

I have often written about artistic voice in this blog. More and more I see a clear connection between developing a clear, distinct voice and your creative development. One is expressed through the other and vice versa. I also believe that being honest in your creative development will infuse a more authentic voice.

Your artistic voice isn’t something you sit down and deliberately create, like a blueprint of your new house. It comes through creating and practising your artistic skills—and simply living, the more authentic the better.

Nevertheless, according to the author Todd Henry, to spur the development of your authentic voice, you must cultivate three tings: A strong sense of identity which means doing artistic work that is rooted in something substantive and personally meaningful; a consonant vision for your work, meaning a sense of the ultimate impact you want to have; and mastery of your skills.

Identity is primarily defined by the question “Who are you?” However you respond, it would be a story about how you perceive yourself and your place in the world. In fact, your sense of identity is a collection of many stories, related to your childhood experiences, your job, your hobbies, your political views and a number of other defining characteristics. Thus, self-knowledge is a critical ingredient of identity, because when it is lacking you are more likely to compromise your true thoughts and beliefs. You must have a rooted understanding of why your work matters to you, what makes it unique, and why you believe it should matter to others.

The second part of what instigate an authentic voice, the vision, is primarily defined by the question “Where are you going?” This implies that you need to be able to articulate the kind of effect you want to have and how you want the world to be different through your efforts. You should at least have a sense of how you plan to impact them. The majority of great creators have some sense of where their work is leading and the ultimate impact they want to have. They have “a north pole” towards which to navigate, even if only in a general sense.

The final and third piece to what positively influences your artistic voice is defined by the question “How will you get there?” As you sharpen you skills you have more tools in your toolbox and give yourself more options for expression. I am often one who attach less importance to skills, but no doubt artists who sharpen their skills are better positioned to create more diverse and stronger work.

The answers to the three questions give you a map for encouraging the development of your authentic, artistic voice. Your sense of identity leads you to a compelling vision, which then illuminates the skills you need to master in order to evolve as an artist.

We have just commenced with a new year. Maybe this is a good time to sit down and ask yourself these three questions. The answers may open up new ways for your creative development and in so doing also stimulate your development of an authentic voice.

Talking about a new year, I want to wish you all the best, creatively and otherwise, for 2023.

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When Stealing Is OK

In a couple of post last year, I have brought up some thoughts about what it takes to develop as a photographer. In Starting with the Box I made a point of needing both creative thinking and learning the craft. And in the post Become a Better Photographer, one of the advices I suggested was looking to other photographers.

Let me take this a step further. Because what better way to develop your photography, both inspirationally and technically, than to learn from other photographers? To push it even further: Steal from any photographer whose work you like. Yes, steal (and this goes not only to photographers but to all creatives). I know, you have been told that steeling is bad and dishonest. But stay with me a little longer.

My point is that we all learn from each other. And how do we learn? By stealing. All artists steal from each other. As the singer and songwriter David Bowie put it: “The only art I’ll ever study is stuff that I can steal from.” Anyone working creatively—any artist—asks; where do you get your ideas? The honest answer is; I steal it. In the delightful and very inspiring book Steal Like an Artist, the artist and writer Austin Kleon puts it bluntly: “When you look at the world this way [that all ideas comes from stealing], you stop worrying about what’s ‘good’ and what’s ‘bad’—there’s only stuff worth stealing, and stuff that’s not worth stealing. Anything is up for grabs.”

The thing is; nothing is really original. Everything has already been done—as I wrote in my post Originality long time ago. The point is: what makes something different and yours, is your take on it. Yes, steal, but add yourself in the process. Or steal to learn before you are able to impose your own vision on it, and then start make you own expression of an old idea.

The writer Jonathan Lethem has said that when people call something “original”, nine out of ten times they just don’t know the reference or the original sources involved. What a good artist understands is that nothing comes from nowhere. All creative work builds on what came before.

The filmmaker Jim Jarmusch puts it this way: “Steal from anywhere that resonates with inspiration or fuels your imagination. Devour old films, new films, music, books, paintings, photographs, poems, dreams, random conversations, architecture, bridges, street signs, trees, clouds, bodies of water, light and shadows. Select only things to steal from that, which speak directly to your soul. If you do this, your work (and theft) will be authentic.”

Austin Kleon suggests that you collect all, which inspires you in a scrapbook. Thoughts, phone calls, favourite passages out of books, and cut and past things you see around you that speak to your soul. See something worth stealing? Put in the scrapbook. Then use this book when you need inspiration.

At the end of the day, what this leads up to is getting around the simple fact that nobody is born with a style or a voice. We don’t come out of the womb knowing who we are. In the beginning, we learn by pretending to be our heroes. We learn by copying—by stealing. I am talking about practice here, not plagiarism—plagiarism is trying to pas someone else’s work off as your own. Copying is about reverse-engineering. It’s like a mechanic taking apart a car to see how it works.

At some point, you’ll have to move from imitating your heroes to emulating them. Imitation is about copying. Emulating is when imitation goes one step further, breaking through into your own thing. Then you start to ask the question, what can you add—that only you can add—that makes it different?

All artists think and has worked like this. “We want you to take from us. We want you, at first, to steal from us, because you can’t steal. You will take what we give you and you will put in your own voice and that’s how you will find your voice. And that’s how you begin. And then one day someone will steal from you.” That’s the words of the great filmmaker Francis Ford Coppola.

So: Steal. But add yourself into the process! Eventually.

By the way, if you feel like you are running out of ideas and are in a creative rut, I strongly recommend the before mentioned book Steal Like an Artist. It’s a quick read and full of positive energy.

No Easy Way Around

I often get questions about photographic voice and how to create a signature style—not the least since I regularly teach a workshop called “Your Photographic Voice”. However, there is no easy answer to the question, simply because there isn’t a quick and simple solution to finding this unique way of expressing oneself, not as a photographer nor in any other art form.

The not so helpful answer is; it takes time to develop your own signature. Moreover, it’s not something you can sit down and figure out or construct. As a photographer, you need to find the signature style, rather than create it. Or let it find you. Nevertheless, there are things you can do to allow yourself the freedom to grow into your practice and find your way. Once you fully accept this freedom, originality follows almost inevitably.

So keep in mind, the way in which all artists discover their individuality takes time. In fact, you develop your voice through your whole career or life span as a photographer. It’s in constant development, and the longer you have been nurturing your art, the more distinctive your voice grows to be. If you are concerned with developing originality, first of all don’t think about been original. This is something I have addressed before. If you try to be original, the result will rather be contrived. Instead, don’t think about being original, but allow yourself the freedom to experiment, exploring as many different mediums, subject matters, and approaches as possible.

It is only through the process and practice that a photographer develop true originality, as he or she slides subconsciously into repetitive patterns that build upon one another and over time form natural habits. Originality is the accumulation of a series of these subconscious processes, that when seen as a whole are a representation of the originality inherent in each individual. Not two people are the same, and thus no two people’s work is the same. When one photographer—or artist—makes work that appears similar to another’s, it either isn’t as similar as it may appear, or someone isn’t being true to their own individuality.

To be true to your own individuality, you need to pursue your passions. It’s through passionate work you develop your voice. Passion is simply the foundation of any successful, personal expression. As such, I think that is the strongest advice to take to heart—literarily. Photograph what you are passionate about. Find themes and subject matters you really care about, not only photographically but personally.

Then make photographing these subjects personal, that is to say photograph what you know. Photograph close to home, physically or figuratively. For instance, photograph your family or photograph your friends. Many a renowned photograph has made a name for him- or herself by photographing their personal relationships, among others Sally Mann, Nan Goldin or Larry Clark, to mention a few.

What makes your photography stand out—over time—is showing the rest of us how your world looks like photographed. Tell us your story—in your photos. When you share your personal life, you share your life experience and your heartfelt revelations. Just remember, when I write personal, I don’t mean private. Nobody wants to pry into your private life, but sharing your personal experiences will make us curious and capture us. Through a personal approach, your photography will be able to touch others and make them learn more about life, in general.

The late photographer, Diane Arbus, once wrote: “The more personal you make it, the more universal it becomes”.

A final thought about how to pursue a personal, photographic voice or encourage this budding individuality is to take in as much art as possible, from as many different approaches as possible. And I don’t talk only about photography now, although if you are particularly interested in nature photography, for instance, open up yourself to other photographic approaches as well. If your only reference material is nature photography, it is easy to see how the work you make might quickly become a reworking of other nature photographs. When absorbing a vast array of different approaches to making, alas not only photographic approaches, some will filter their way into your work, distilled through the prism of your personality. So give yourself as much inspiration as possible, from as many varying sources as possible. Even seek out work that you dislike. It will refine your own signature.

Vision is Beginning

Intent is what brings depth and significance to a photograph. In many ways you can say it’s the lifeline of the photograph—or any work of fine art for that matter. A photograph without intention behind it won’t convey any importance to the viewers either. It might be as beautiful as anything in the world, but we still won’t stay with it for more than a glimpse of time and we won’t remember it if it doesn’t reveal the photographer behind it. A writer without anything to say in his novel, a filmmaker without a story in her movie or a musician without passionate songs, aren’t going to spellbind their audience and will all soon be forgotten. In the end nobody is going to care about their work. So it is with photography and photographers. A photographer who has no intention with his or her photography will most likely bore the viewers—no matter how technical brilliant the work is or how beautiful the composition is. Intention is what brings uniqueness and substance to a photograph.

«Without intent we’re left with accidental photography, and while accidental photography may once in a while generate interesting photographs, it will not generally count as an act of expression any more than hoping that saying random words will result in a sentence that says something meaningful.» Those are the words of David duChemin taken from his eBook The Vision Driven Photographer.

For David duChemin intent is a way to focus on the why instead of the what in the photographic process. It’s all about being clear about why you shoot what you shoot. By having a clear intent you will better be able to express your vision. For David duChemin the photographic vision is just another word for the intent behind the photograph. Vision is everything—without it the final result is dead. duChemin is one of the contemporary photographers who has been most unambiguous about the need for intent in the photographic process—for the photographer to have a vision. He is probably also the one who has best been able to put words to the somewhat abstract idea of vision and the role it plays in photography. It’s not without reason he calls himself a vision driven photographer.

The photographer’s vision is where the photographic process begins—or where it should begin. Unfortunately most photographers—and I willingly admit that I am prone to the same thoughtlessness, too—don’t have a clear thought about their vision, they just never get beyond the technical part of photography or beyond seeing light or composition. «Before our photographs can say what we want them to, and in so-doing to look like we want them to, we need to understand what we want to say, and how we want to say it. That’s vision.» That’s another quote by duChemin.

In order to better understand the vague and abstract idea of vision, David duChemin splits it in two types. He talks about personal vision and photographic vision. The former is something everybody has although we are not always consciously aware of it. It’s our understanding of the world around us and ourselves. It’s what makes you vote for a certain party, it’s what makes to choose to do what you do, it’s what makes you pay attention to what you see, it’s what makes you photograph something and not something else. The personal vision is based on experience and learning, and it changes with time as it grows more depth with ageing. Photographic vision on the other hand is the link between our personal vision and the final photograph. It’s what makes you frame an image in a certain way, it’s what makes you choose a certain lens over another, it’s what makes you photograph from one angle or another. While personal vision is the how you see life, photographic vision is how you see life when the camera is put to the eye.

Your personal vision is where it all starts. It’s what makes you choose to photograph something over something else. It’s the intent, which could be anything from wanting to show injustice in the world to declaring your love for something or someone. As a photographer you then move out into the world with your intent, and as you know, suddenly you see something that catches your attention. That’s the moment of perception. On the street you suddenly see a couple or an action that arouses your photographic interest. Even in the studio the same thing happens, but instead of moving around in the world until something catches your interest, you move the world around you and rearrange it until it feels right. While in that moment of perception, take a bit of time to reflect over the reason why you were stopped by whatever made you stop. Even if it was only light that seemed to arouse you interest, something made you choose this subject matter of that. This is paying conscious attention to your personal vision. Then continue to discern how you best can express this intention by photographic means available to you. This is the part where your photographic vision comes into play. Only then is it time to pull the trigger and continue the photographic process all the way to the final print, the manifestation of your vision.

This all seems like an elaborate process but as a matter of fact the more you get into the habit of paying attention to your vision, the faster the whole process will progress. From something catches you attention, till the camera has captured the subject, in reality it might only take a fraction of a second. The important part is being aware of your intent—or having a conscious vision. Unfortunately most photographers don’t. They see something without being aware of why the subject caught their attention and then start shooting right away. Of course their personal vision still made them react, but they just don’t know why or are not aware of it.

Do you have a clear intent when you are shooting? Are you a vision driven photographer? Or do you only arbitrarily take snap shots of whatever catches you interest?

Don’t Give a Damn!

A week ago, I photographed and did an interesting and inspiring interview with an artist, actor and acrobat. She said something that made me think. In many ways, simple and yet so relevant for anyone engaged in creative work.

Some years ago while she was rehearsing for a movie shooting, the director of the movie told her: “You are too much of a good girl, doing what you are told. Loosen up and don’t give a damn!” She followed his advice and suddenly her creative career took a giant boost.

I think in my younger days I was too much of a good boy, too. I did what I was told. Creatively I certainly didn’t draw outside the lines. I follow the “rules” and did what I was supposed to do. Although nobody gave me the same advice as this artist I interviewed got, slowly by slowly as my creative self matured, I started to care less and less about doing the “right” thing. Instead, I have become more like a rooky, creatively speaking (not necessarily in my interaction with other people).

I think we all need to be less nice or good and rather let loose and don’t think so much about what is the right thing to do. When we start to don’t give a damn, we enter into a different mindset, our creative thinking changes, we see differently and begin to discover new ways of expressing ourselves. Our creative voice will take a boost when we loosen up, if nothing else, because we start to create and do things differently from everybody else. Giving ourselves permission to don’t give a damn will be the first step towards a distinctive way of seeing and expressing ourselves.

Thus being bad isn’t always bad. On the contrary, we need to be a little more bad—and please understand me right when I say so. There is a Swedish saying that goes like this: “Nice girls come to heaven, bad girls can come as far as they like”. Unnecessary to say, it goes for both girls and boys.

On a different note, some of you may have noticed I have been absent from the blog sphere the last week or so. It’s just been extremely busy times and I haven’t had a chance to engage in social medias. However, I hope to be back now that summer on this part of the hemisphere is approaching and life may start to become a little less busy.

Subdued Simplicity

Over the eight weeks that Phil Vaughn attended the online photo workshop «Finding Your Photographic Voice», I noticed a significant development in his photography. By the end of the workshop, Phil was both clearer in his approach and were able to express his vision with more strength.

I think this is quite evident in the personal photo project he worked on during the last four weeks of the workshop. The theme for the project was something so everyday-like as a park, but the photos has a personal touch and transcend the peacefulness and quiet that many parks represents for its urban users.

Phil photographed the airy Engler Park, Farmington, Missouri with a subdued sensibility. The photos radiate this tranquil approach in both composition and the photos’ colour palette. The colours are a strange combination of being muted as well as subtle. There is a simplicity over his work that strengthens the expression and underlines the serene feeling of the park.

During the four weeks, Phil worked on the project he returned to the park during all times of the day. He photographed the visitors of the park, their activity as well as the more deserted areas of the park. The photo project comes together as a visual essay that tells the story of life and environment in a pleasant park.

Later in the spring I will start up another round of the online workshop, more specifically May 22nd. If you are interested, you will find more information about «Finding Your Photographic Voice» on the web site of Blue Hour Photo Workshops.

A Classical Documentary

It’s time to present another of the participant’s work from last year’s online workshop. Pat Callahan made a classical, visual documentary story for his personal photo project when participating in the online workshop «Finding Your Photographic Voice» last year. And he did it with conviction and through a entrancing narration. In his portrayal of the Irish village Courtmacsherry, Pat captures the daily life of its villagers, whether kids and youngsters having fun in the harbour, a quiet moment of in the local pub, a burial or the bliss of a wedding.

The strength of Pat’s visual portrayal of Courtmacsherry is his well-developed talent both to perceive good composition and finding those smaller or bigger moments that bring the story together. He is a master of the decisive moment as articulated by Henri Cartier-Bresson. His eye is sharp and his technical skills foster the stories each of the photos tells so well, as it does the overall narrative of the photo essay.

What really impresses me with the essay is Pat’s ability to get close to the people he photographs. I mean both literally and on an emotional level. The people he photographs aren’t even noticing Pat, they go about doing there things as if he is not present with a camera. People clearly trust him. They let him into their sphere and into their lives, as if he is one of them. From that standpoint, he quietly and gently goes about photographing whatever they are doing, seemingly unnoticed and without interrupting the proceedings.

The black and white format fits perfectly the story of a village where time seems to have stood still and life goes about as it has done for decades. The photos become a glimpse into time long forgotten in most other places, where the community and care for each other is still the important factor in life.

If you like to see more of his work, look up the website and blog of Pat Callahan.

Later in the spring I will start up another round of the online workshop, more specifically May 22nd. If you are interested, you will find more information about «Finding Your Photographic Voice» on the web site of Blue Hour Photo Workshops. Furthermore, if you sign up before the end of April you will get the workshop for a discounted price. Only this week left for the reduced price!

Joy- and Colourful

Vigdis Askjem participated in my last year’s online workshop «Finding Your Photographic Voice». For her personal project at the second half of the workshop, she chose two approaches, one was photographing details and light, and one was shooting people in various activities, such as during a festival or kayaking along the coast of Norway.

I have had the pleasure of having Vigdis attending one of my regular workshops (in Villajoyosa in Spain) and then last year the online workshop. Over time she has developed her vision and her photographic voice, and has a distinctive way of capturing whatever she is aiming her camera towards. Colour and light seems to be very important in her approach. And then Vigdis has a refined ability to capture the decisive moment when photographing people or movements.

Despite the two very different approaches for her personal project during «Finding Your Photographic Voice» her photos still have a very characteristic expression. Her way of shooting is the way she sees the world, whether it’s joy, people or close-ups we find in her photos. There is a certain vividness no matter what. There is exhilaration even when she captures something as mundane as a tower. It’s not only what we see, but layers of added details that brings forth a deeper story or a deeper understanding.

I really like the surprise factor in her images. They are—in one way or another—unique in that she shows me a worldview I don’t usually see. They convey her curiosity and her thrill in exploring the landscape around her. If you like to see more of her work, look up the website and blog of Vigdis Askjem (unfortunately only in Norwergian).

Later in the spring I will start up another round of the online workshop, more specifically May 22nd. If you are interested, you will find more information about «Finding Your Photographic Voice» on the web site of Blue Hour Photo Workshops. Furthermore, if you sign up before the end of April you will get the workshop for a discounted price.

The Magic Pond

© Lee Cleland

© Lee Cleland

© Lee Cleland

© Lee Cleland

© Lee Cleland

Over the next couple of weeks, I will present the work of participants of last year’s online photo workshop «Finding Your Photographic Voice». First out is Lee Cleland. During the last four weeks of the workshop each participants work on their own personal project, and Lee chose to photograph a small and elusive pond, surrounded by an open cluster of trees. The pond is situated in a large and lush landscape, and provided Lee with amble opportunities to convey its magic trough a gentle and distinct vision.

Lee approached the project from a variety of angles, capturing the open landscape, details in and around the pond, the small animals living of the pond, its plants and the different ambiences that occurred over time. Her photos have a quiet aesthetics, using a subtle and secluded colour palette. They clearly show she has a refined eye which radiates through her sensitive and unique voice.

What I really like about Lee’s work is that she constantly tried out new approaches over the four weeks she was working on her personal project. In the beginning, she came back with some beautiful landscape pictures, one that can be seen in this little selection above, and she also quickly started to shoot the small inhabitants of the pond. Soon she started to experiment with various techniques, such as using flash, using long handheld exposure time, and using different aperture.

The final product is a beautiful series of quiet landscape and nature photos. They convey the magic of the intriguing pond—they are magic in and of themselves. For more of her photography, please look up Lee’s blog Beyond Purgatory ~ A Photographer’s Paradise.

Later in the spring I will start up another round of the online workshop, more specifically May 22nd. If you are interested, you will find more information about «Finding Your Photographic Voice» on the web site of Blue Hour Photo Workshops. Furthermore, if you sign up before the end of April you will get the workshop for a discounted price.