Finding A Way Out Of A Photographic Malaise

Same subject, different image.  I've photographed this little scene many times, but each in a different manner
under different conditions.  It has become a bit of a challenge on how I can photographic differently, which
helps with regaining some inspiration.  You can see other versions of this scene here.
This is the first time I had photographed it with the very warm setting autumn sun at my back. (click to enlarge)
Olympus E-M1 Mark II, 12-100mm f/4 lens @ 75mm; 1/400th sec. @ f/8; ISO 200

Being that winter (in the Northern Hemisphere) is almost upon us, which is a prime time to lose inspiration, I thought a continuation of the subject of my last post would be appropriate.  Being in a photographic funk, malaise or just being uninspired by the photographs you make can be frustrating.  You aren't alone.

Photographic malaise, staleness, lack of enthusiasm, loss of interest, loss of inspiration, etc., seems to be a topic that resurfaces regularly among photographers.  I wrote about it here and here in the recent past (as well as in my last post, here) as I recently went through a similar period, as I believe we all do.

Recently, an acquaintance from UK and I were exchanging emails and this very topic arose once more.  It seems that this phenomenon can arise anywhere in the world.  Why wouldn't it?  I asked his permission to excerpt some of our email exchange here so many can benefit from our experience.  I have changed the names to keep everyone anonymous.

I find it interesting to follow his mental path in understanding this and working his way through it.

From my friend:

"I was reading, with sympathy, your blog posts about feeling a lack of photographic inspiration of late and it struck a chord with me as I'm feeling a little the same. In fact, when we went on holiday in September, I took my camera, and carried it on all our hikes, but didn't use it more than a couple of dozen times, which is very strange indeed for me! It's worried me a little and when I looked back on the photos, I was a bit upset that I didn't feel like any of them had as much purpose, or passion behind them as I feel they ought to. Maybe I was just tired, I badly needed the break this year having worked so hard on the development of the series, and life has thrown other stresses at Elizabeth and myself, so it could just be that. On the other hand, it's odd that I read you were feeling uninspired too, and when I chatted to Robert (my landscape photographer friend) recently, he too admitted that he had no inspiration of late, and hadn't even been out more than once in the whole summer with his camera. Is this just coincidence, or is there a disturbance in the photography ether we're all succumbing to?! I'm kidding of course, but maybe there is an underlying reason...

Myself, I've wondered if it's a process I've been missing. I've even toyed with potentially picking up a film camera again. I know film, for a given format size, is largely superseded technically by digital sensors now, and the editing is certainly easier digitally, yet I wonder myself if I'm missing a little of the process, or ritual if you like, of taking a photograph in a particular way? I do feel a different kind of flow when I'm working with a film camera, along with a certain anticipation. Do you think a process can become too easy and lose its meaning somewhat? Another example; sometimes, I write with a pen and paper, instead of typing straight into the computer. For much of my work I don't have time to do this; professional deadlines are super-tight for writers, but this doesn't speak to the creative process; I work differently when I'm writing by hand, my mind has different thoughts, possibly just because it has more time to let ideas surface, or possibly it's the process itself which shapes the way my creative mind works.

The other aspect of film photography I'm aware of which is different with digital is a sense of permanence. I think there was something about that moment frozen forever, physically, in cellulose and photographic dyes which I could hold up to the light and see and touch (with lint free gloves!) which signified I'd captured something real, which in some way digital doesn't replicate to the same degree. It's a phenomenon not limited to modern photography; my only other hobby which is gear-based in nature is audio (my others don't really require equipment, or things - I like walking and sports of various kinds, films, and cooking) and here too there is a current debate about technical perfection and convenience vs human satisfaction. Currently, hi-res audio, streamed across a network, or even from the internet, is the pinnacle of technical perfection, yet so many audio enthusiasts are returning to vinyl and even valve amplification, feeling that in the quest for technical perfection and convenience, something human, a part of the emotion which connects us with music, was somehow lost.

So am I about to go out and ditch my X-Pro 2, or E-M1 and go and get a 4x5 field camera? No, probably not, but equally, I'm searching for a way to make the process fun again, and more permanent again. Perhaps I just haven't printed, or displayed my photos for a little too long, having been busy, or maybe I'm just on the wrong tack with this train of thought.

I've also wondered if the issue could simply be over-familiarity with my subjects. Naturally, I've photographed around where I live extensively for years, and we went on holiday to a place we've been a few times before now, so maybe I'm just lacking a little variation in location and therefore subject matter. Certainly, when I went to Rome a few years ago, somewhere I'd never visited before, I took so many good pictures I don't know what to do with them all! Also, on our holiday last year, we ended up changing routes and I took quite a fair number of pictures I'm very happy with. Naturally, it's an excellent excuse to have a holiday somewhere to test this particular theory!

Anyway, I don't know if any of the above helps you at all. Certainly myself I haven't come to a conclusion just yet."

And part of my response to him:

"I find it interesting that you and Robert find yourselves in sort of a photographic rut simultaneously.  I've been there a few times in the past 47 years of my photographic life, but I always managed to pull myself out of it.  I found there were two kinds of malaise.  The minor kind, which I cured just by forcing myself to pick up a camera and go out somewhere, anywhere, and just start looking to find something of interest to photograph.  When I did that my juices started flowing pretty quickly and photography itself always pulled me out of it.  The excitement of finding something and then trying to make a good image out of it always excites me.  Grabbing a camera and going out always put me in a good mood.  Still does.  The more serious type is the one you and Robert are currently experiencing and which I recently experienced.  I've gotten over mine and here is how I did it.

I did a lot of soul searching and thinking.  I thought about what may be causing my feeling of being photographically stale.  Was it digital versus film?  Was it the gear itself as I find digital photography so much easier than film photography?  Film photography made me have to work and think constantly to get it right as there were no checks and balances of looking at an image on an LCD to see if you recorded what you intended.  Was it time to move on?  Did I need new subjects?  Did I need to change from color to black and white?  I thought about a lot of internal and external factors that we deal with in our lives to try to determine what it was that was causing the melancholy I was experiencing.

What I decided was that I had been making the same picture (metaphorically) for 47 years and I needed to find new pictures to make.  I needed to adopt new subjects that required me to "see" in an entirely new fashion.  What I had been photographing all those years came too easy for me.  I was never stretched.  I wasn't getting any better. You are obviously different from me in many ways, but what I decided to try to do is to determine which photographers I found intriguing, whose work I admired but the kind of work I've never done and try my hand at one or more new ways of seeing the world.

I am totally intrigued by William Eggleston.  I find Eggleston's work fascinating as he can take the banal, the ordinary, the mundane, the ugly, the stuff that any of us would not even notice, and for the most part, make some kind of sense out of it.  He can make order out of chaos.  I would never, ever photograph like he does as I've never seen the world like he has.  But now, I've started an "Eggleston Project" to try to see the world as he does.  This is forcing me to see in a totally new way.  In fact, if I go out to photograph for my Eggleston Project, I cannot photograph the subjects that I have in the past.  There is no way, at the same time, can I convince my brain to see in polar opposite manners.  I have to go out to photograph one way or another.  In fact, the two types of photography even make me got to different places as one subject rarely intersects with the other.  It is difficult, but I'm slowly building a small library of Eggleston-like images, or I should say, my feeble attempt to emulate him and his subject matter.  Again, totally different from anything I've ever done.  This has caused me to re-learn to see and photograph.  This has energized me as I'm back in the learning and hunting mode once more. It is hard.  It is a stretch.

I am also totally intrigued by Gary Winogrand and Joel Meyerowitz.  For many of the same reasons as I have stated about Eggleston, I really would like to emulate the street photography of Winogrand and Meyerowitz.  I haven't yet started this phase of the journey out of my photographic doldrums, but when I travel to places that cause me to walk, like larger cities, etc., I will try to learn this way of seeing as well.  Trying to capture life as it exists in a split second is an amazing talent.

One other thing I think I must mention that has played a role in my "recovery."  I find that I have really come to enjoy writing my blog.  Writing provides a bit of therapy for me.  I find that my thoughts coalesce better and I think more clearly and more completely when writing.  In the past, I always was a good "technical writer," writing reports, research papers and the like in law enforcement, but I've never written creatively or on a subject of which I held great passion, such as photography.....

You might want to consider doing some of what I have done.  Look at some of the work of photographers you admire but different from anything you have ever done and decide that you want to learn a new way of photographically seeing.  It is a challenge, believe me."

That excerpt from a recent email exchange are examples to which many of you can relate.  I hope this was of interest to you and you potentially have a better idea as to what others are experiencing. 

Your lack of inspiration will pass.  I find it bothersome when it occurs in me and I work hard to get myself out of it.  Your choice is to look for ways to end your malaise, or just sit back and hope, with time, it ends.

Thanks for looking. Enjoy! 

Dennis A. Mook 

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