This one is one that I feel applies to all of us, professional or amateur, photography enthusiast or just a Steemian with a smartphone. It’s about *why* our images matter.
Most of the time I’ve made a lot of progress towards my dreams of success, in sports that was milestones like becoming County Champion, making national finals. In Photography that was winning awards, chasing more awards, seeing our photographs and bio’s featured in magazines and on websites. In all of these endeavours I don’t really remember any moment where I gave myself a pat on the back for the hard work that was paying off, just an inner hole that needed filling with external approval.
Maybe it’s just that my drive to be the best is more developed than my natural abilities at my endeavours; maybe I’m just not *that* good! It’s hard to say, but personally I can’t help but feel that even if I had become an Olympian, and won every race out there, I wouldn’t have felt particularly fulfilled or finished. I’m not sure it would have made me any happier, and I don’t suppose I’m alone there for one moment!
Steemit is particularly motivating in that our efforts are almost ‘graded’ at each attempt. Of course, just like Instagram and Myspace before it our ‘efforts’ amount to more than just the pictures or posts we create. Our interaction with the community, willingness to engage with followers and consistency all play a big part.
Sometimes it’s easy to forget that with a platform like Steemit or Instagram they aren’t designed to be ‘fair’ by everyone’s standards. It’s unlikely that the ‘best’ photos are the ones that get the most likes or earn the most Steem. It’s certainly not how most pure photographers would have it, but then I’m not really sure it would be particularly fair anyway. The problem is, what we do will always be subjective, one persons dream wall art would be another’s trash and, ultimately, should platforms reward consistency and commitment? (By that I mean, can’t we always expect to get out what we put in?)
Just like the subjectivity that comes with the ‘judging’ of images, there’s a whole lot of subjectivity when it comes to what matters. Personally, I’ve decided that the competitive side of me doesn’t really serve any purpose and photography is what taught me that. That being said I have friends and peers who absolutely adore competitions and awards and DO get that genuine sense of satisfaction from them. I’m just saying it doesn’t float MY boat.
What does? Well Photography its-self does of course. The actual taking of photographs, as well as the technology behind them. The money is also a driving force, one that I’ve come to embrace, as it’s one thing that – most of us at least – NEED from something we spend an excessive amount of time on. It motivates me to continue to push myself because I know people are paying me to take good photographs!
But that’s still not what really matters
This is why it matters:
This one is always a really special one to us, the bride and groom are actually really good friends of ours now, we stayed in touch after the wedding and they quickly became two of our best friends. I don’t know exactly when, but one evening after we had delivered the photos we were over at their house and Bex told us why photo meant so much to her.
She hadn’t mentioned it before the wedding because she wanted us to just capture the day how we would normally, but her mum had actually been diagnosed as terminal just a year before the wedding. They had gone from having a somewhat distant relationship to Bex going to part time at work to spend more time with her mum. This photo wasn’t just about a mum and daughter dancing, it was about how incredible their relationship had become. 3 years later and her mum is doing amazingly, she’s defied all of the odds and this photo is one that will always mean the world to them both because of the story behind it.
And *THIS* is why is matters:
This isn’t really a shot we’d ever expect to display, we’ve all got heart warming stories from weddings and those are great to share. But for us it’s the heart BREAKING stories that are always the ones we don’t want to share, it’s almost like they aren’t ours to tell. Sometimes we’ve thought about mentioning them in blog posts to contextualise things a bit better, but we always hate the idea of using other peoples heartache to promote our work.
That said, this is a story that has a place in the context of this article, and since I’m not promoting our work off the back of it, it feels acceptable! More to the point it feels NECESSARY!
This is one of our brides from last year, and the man in the photo is her dad. A few weeks out from her engagement shoot which would take place on the family farm, she emailed with a special request. Her dad had been diagnosed as terminal having spent some time in hospital, they said he wouldn’t make it to the wedding just 4 months away. She asked if we could take some photos of her dad while we were there as it would be the last chance they had to do it.
First of all we were just scared as hell. I mean, it’s ok to talk about the idea that people will look back at our images in years to come and remember lost family and friends, but this was another level. This was confronting the reality of what we’re responsible for in the most nerve wracking way possible.
On the day we had loads of things planned out, way to make the shoot work. Then as soon as we met the family our plans went to pieces. They were lovely, welcoming, down to earth, and bloody hated photos. The brides dad just didn’t want to be in the room with our cameras out. We headed out for some couple shots with the bride and groom to be and talked about our options.
Lucy, the bride, told us that her dad had always been like that when it came to photographs and it really wasn’t our fault at all. We suggested one, last ditch attempt would be to holster our cameras when we headed back in, and for Lucy to give her dad a hug out of the blue which we would attempt to capture before he had a chance to stop us.
As it turned out he did allow us – albeit briefly – to get the shot. When we planned out this all important image it’s safe to say it looked nothing like this. We were going to make it artistic, a classic portrait that would be adored by the family for years to come. But that wouldn’t have been her dad.
He passed away two weeks after this photo was taken, and on her wedding day the bride told us we would always be the best photographers in the world to her family because we got the last ever photo of her dad. They didn’t care that it wasn’t the best photo, that it was shot in low light – and tungsten at that! In many ways the photos imperfections said more about the man than a perfect one ever could have.
It’s a staged photograph, it’s not artistic in any way shape or form and it’s not going to win us any awards, recognition or Facebook referrals. But it’s stuff like this that is what’s really important. Doing right by our clients and putting their memories ahead of our own aspirations and ego’s.
I think in this digital age it’s easy to forget, we just take photos that get added to an endless pile. We take more photos than ever yet appreciate them less than ever until, all of a sudden, that photo becomes irreplaceable, unrepeatable and ultimately it becomes a piece of our history.
It’s easy to get weighed down with the pressure of trying to make photographs that are praised by our peers and industry leaders. To crave thousands of followers and the fickle adoration that comes with being Instafamous. But all the likes in the world can’t come close to a photograph of a lost loved one. Of the endless photos that are produced each day, and the millions of likes that accompany them, nothing will ever be remembered like the photos that truly define history. Sometimes that will be in the form of award winning photojournalism, with photographers risking life and limb to share a story that the world needs to see and remember.
Most of the time though the photos that define history are the ones that define OUR OWN history.
*”We spend our 20’s and 30’s worrying about what other people think. Then we spend our 40’s and 50’s not worrying about what anyone else thinks. Only to realise in our 60’s and 70’s that nobody was thinking about us in the first place.”*
If we’re lucky we might create photos that get noticed online, we might gain followers and earn some Steem. But if we’re really lucky we’ll create photographs that tell stories of our history, that our relatives will look at in years to come.
That’s WHY our images matter.
