More Than a Rock, 2nd Edition. Guy Tal
of such prejudices.
That photography as creative art should be allowed the same degree of creative freedom as other artistic media is among the creeds not only of photographic artists from the Pictorialist era, but also of such movements as the Brotherhood of the Linked Ring and the Photo-Secession movement; and a great degree of such freedom was also claimed by proponents of what is known as “straight” photography, including Group f/64, New Topographics, and numerous independent photographic artists. Yet, today, when seemingly everyone is a photographer and every inkjet print is stamped “fine art,” and much of the lore of photography’s past has been drowned out by social media “influencers,” bloggers, vloggers, and a plethora of equipment reviews, many of the lessons of the past have apparently been forgotten. Audiences, drowning in an ocean of photographic images with few beacons to help chart the waters, and few maps to warn of dragons or point out safe harbors, seem oblivious to the distinction between the creative and the representational.
Many photographic publications, contests, and institutions further inhibit creativity by imposing guidelines so strict as to disqualify the works of even the most venerable photographic artists of old, causing present-day photographers to fear embracing their own creativity lest their work be tarnished with such ignorant labels as “manipulated” or “Photoshopped.”
There is more at stake than benign prejudice. The very future of photography as a legitimate medium for art hangs in the balance. All art involves manipulation of materials, and lumping all products of a camera into a single category, to be judged by one set of criteria, is as silly as bundling together impressionistic masterpieces with engineering drafts or comic strips. Not all photographs are meant to serve the same purpose.
Art should be about creative expression of subjective ideas and sensibilities, in whatever media and by whatever methods. Whether the tool is a paintbrush, a chisel, a camera, or a computer program should have no bearing on the validity of artistic work. Neither should the processes involved in the production of art dictate its worthiness. A photograph rendered on film is no more or less worthy than one captured digitally, just as a novel written on paper is no more or less worthy, by this one distinction, than one typed into a word processor.
To deny artists freedom of expression because of prejudice about their tools is an affront to art, and any art in which creators are systematically denied the privilege of personal choice and subjective expression is a lesser art (or no art at all). One cannot hold the view that photography can serve as an artistic medium while at the same time demand that photography remain beholden to representation of objective reality, or dependent on traditional methods.
To practice photography as art is not about successfully exposing film or a digital sensor to make an accurate record of reflected light; it is about what one does with that record. Much as painters must work within the constraints of the palette, brushes, and substrates available to them, and sculptors within the qualities of a given piece of rock, so do photographers have to work with the materials available to them and within their own self-imposed boundaries; but no artist should be required to create within draconian limitations founded in prejudice and ignorance, in order for their work to be considered valid. Submission to such considerations diminishes both the art and the artist.
11Art and Rebellion
So . . . try for that other world, the real world, where orphans burn orphans and nothing is more difficult to discover than a simple fact. And with that pride of the artist, you must blow against the wall of every power that exists, the small trumpet of your defiance.
—Norman Mailer
It appears I have committed a grave sin. A chiding note from a concerned photographer informed me that my moral standards are too high, my approach to art incompatible with the contemporary definition of the term, and my writing politically incorrect. At the risk of further offending the sender, I confess that the note prompted not only some anger, but also a bit of pride.
To eliminate from one’s work and rhetoric anything that might offend is also to eliminate from it anything that might matter—anything that might make a difference. Call it arrogance, but I have little interest in producing things that don’t matter.
You may wonder what I said to have prompted such a response. In summary, it was my audacious claim that the majority of what is presented today as (fine) art photography is meaningless, repetitious, lacking in imagination and creativity, and safely ignorable; I also said that reliance on found aesthetics to the detriment of expressing personal significance in photographic work is often a crutch for the creatively lazy.
Many artists before me have contemplated their role and agency in society. Indeed, I believe that anyone worthy of the title “artist” ponders such thoughts frequently. Regrettably, few dare to express such thoughts and fewer still find the courage to live by their convictions.
In the most simple-minded perception, the goal of art is the production of pleasing and/or well-crafted works. Beauty is the soul and the bane of art; it lures those seeking distraction from the mundane, but if it fails to lead to ulterior meaning, the work is little more than temporary entertainment, and ultimately of no lasting significance.
The production of artistic objects may amount to the tangible legacy of an artist, but producing tangible objects is not what being an artist is about. In fact, artists will do well to avoid speculating about posthumous fame altogether. Being an artist is about living passionately and deliberately, placing curiosity, awe, honesty, and significance above social conventions, celebrity, and material spoils. Living artfully is not about finding interesting anecdotes, but about discovering them within, creating them anew, elevating and sharing and celebrating them in defiance of all that is corrupt, cynical, greedy, cruel, bigoted, and shortsighted—it is to make your very life your greatest artistic creation. Works of art, beautiful or otherwise, are means to an end, which is elevating one’s living experience.
Photography of natural things can be a rewarding hobby to many, but it may also be fraught with cognitive dissonance. Some may claim to seek a connection with the natural world, yet limit their impressions to short-lived encounters at well-planned “magic” hours; some may claim that photography is their creative outlet, but venture no further than repeating compositional templates. When photographers contribute nothing of themselves to the outward appearance of found scenes beyond just technical skill, beautiful images may ensue, but meaningful expressive work will not. When photographs are not founded in such things as personal convictions and sensibilities, original concepts, and subjective significance, they may be beautiful, but they are not (by definition or by concept) creative art.
We are the fortunate ones. We live in a time and in a world where adventure is still possible, where mystery still exists, where undiscovered beauty is still there to inspire, where great rewards can still be attained for relatively small risk, where the incessant cacophony of motors, gadgets, and televisions has not yet banished all silence, where a livelihood can still be made by personal enterprise and not in servitude, and where fellow humans still find value in the elevating force of art; and their generosity may still make an artist’s life possible. This world of opportunity and freedom is not to be taken for granted. With each generation, more people seemingly become more jaded and disillusioned, inclined more and more to believe that a meaningful life can be had within the confined and dumbed-down bubble of artificial places and virtual worlds, and in disconnect from the very things that make life possible, and the elevating effects of such things on the human psyche.
My work is not meant to offer benign glimpses into things that happen to be beautiful in their own right. If understood as intended, my work should serve as both inspiration and as a stern warning about the wager we placed on our ability to reinvent reality—not just in the material sense but also in the sense of jeopardizing the knowledge, inspiration, peace,