cole thompson photography
newsletter
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Issue 125 - July 7th, 2023 |
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This newsletter is perhaps my “quotiest” newsletter ever! Interestingly, the quotes come from only three people; Edward Weston, Howard Roark and myself.
I really love quotes, because they succinctly pack a lot of wisdom into a small space. When I find a quote that I love, I’m left wondering: do I love the quote because of its wisdom, or because of who said it?
Maybe a little of both.
I hope you enjoy both the quotes and images.
Cole
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In this issue:
- Learning to See for Yourself
- The Story Behind the Image
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(sure it’s a bit egotistical to quote myself, but hey, it’s my newsletter!)
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"Some people believe the purpose of art is to please an audience. I think the primary purpose of art should be for the artist to express themselves, and then if they're lucky, they also please an audience.
But if your first objective is to please the audience, then the artist risks pleasing no one, especially themselves."
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"If you have not yet found your Vision, your images are not as good as they could be...or should be."
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"Color records the image, but black and white records the feelings that lie beneath the surface."
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“I create my best work at the intersection of Vision and Passion.“
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"Don’t be imitative, even of yourself."
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"Do you want to find your Vision? Here's my advice: want it more than anything else. More than fame, fortune or the adulation of others…only then can you start the long and solitary journey to find it."
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"The best complement I can receive about my work, comes from myself. To be able to say “I love this image“ is the highest accolade possible."
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"What anyone else thinks about my art, is none of my business."
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"Cole’s Rule of Thirds:
A great image is comprised of 1/3 vision, 1/3 the shot and 1/3 processing.
But everything begins with Vision, which drives the shot and the processing."
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"I see nothing sacred in the process which is used to create a photograph, only the image itself is sacred."
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"Vision is creative whereas rules are derivative. Rules are deduced by observing creative people and their creations. Rules are an attempt to turn Vision into a formula, that if followed, can only imitate creativity but never achieve it."
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Paraphrasing John Lennon:
"Part of me suspects that I’m a worthless photographer, and the other part thinks that I’m a photo-god.”
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"How you feel about your images is more important than what anyone else thinks. If you create images that you love, then it doesn't matter how others react to them."
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"If you only see with your eyes, then you will never produce more than that.
But with Vision, you can see beyond what the eye sees."
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"Vision has little to do with your eyes and everything to do with your imagination."
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“Vision is what's left when you remove all of your fears and insecurities, when you stop complying and conforming, when you ignore what others are doing and you pursue what you love.”
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Learning to See for Yourself |
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Learning to see for yourself? Who else would I see for?
Well for many years I did not see for myself. I saw through the lens of Ansel Adams, through the lens of my mentors, through the lens of rules. I saw things how I was told that I should see them, by many well meaning people who wanted to help me create better photographs.
And sometimes, when I did see for myself, I was gently reminded that I shouldn’t do certain things like “center the subject“ or “block up my shadows.”
And so to win approval, likes and praise… I learned to conform and to see like other people. All of my early experiences taught me that the more approval an image received, the better the image was.
And even though I went along willingly, there was always a part of me that was unsettled. Something about this just didn’t feel right.
Often the images I loved the most, performed poorly in the eyes of popularity. And the images that were mundane to me, performed the best. But I was learning to get more "likes" and that's what was important, I told myself.
But going down this path did not make me happy. In fact, the more I did it, the less happy I became. I was “winning“ but I felt dishonest. I was creating what it took to win, but I wasn’t creating what I loved. I was selling out.
And so I paused to take stock of what I was doing...and WHY I was doing it.
I was seeking success, but had never stopped to ask myself: what did success mean to me? I had just assumed it meant being recognized as a great photographer, getting in a big name gallery, selling my work for big dollars, and having a book published.
But as I started to achieve some of that, I found that it wasn't bringing satisfaction.
And so I decided to define what success meant for me. Here's what I came up with:
To be able to create what I want, when I want, and to create work that I love.
My new definition had nothing to do with likes, sales, being published or receiving accolades.
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The result was that I was much happier and created better work (in my opinion, which is the only one that matters).
And sometimes when I created work that I loved, I was fortunate and others appreciated it also.
That external appreciation is what I call the cherry on top. The cherry is not the prize, but rather that little extra treat on top of the real prize: creating work that I love.
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Now it's easy to say: I'm going to stop caring what other's think of my work and see for myself.
But how do you do that?
For me, it came about after realizing that accolades are like drugs, they only bring a temporary high, which needs to be followed by another fix and another and another. And as I focused on on accolades, I came to realize that this approach didn't put me in control of my happiness, because it was dependent upon the approval of others.
Being dependent upon others for my happiness, just didn't seem like real happiness.
- I wanted to be in control.
- I wanted to see for myself.
- I wanted to create images that I loved.
- I wanted to judge my work by my standards.
- I wanted to be independent, not dependent.
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There were two men who helped me make these mental shifts, one real and one fictitious: Edward Weston and Howard Roark.
I love Edward Weston's work, but what I admire most about him was his thinking. Here's what Ansel Adams wrote upon meeting him for the first time at a mutual friend's home:
"After dinner, Albert asked Edward to show his prints. They were the first work of such serious quality I had ever seen, but surprisingly I did not immediately understand or even like them; I thought them hard and mannered.
Edward never gave the impression that he expected anyone to like his work. His prints were what they were. He gave no explanations; in creating them his obligation to the viewer was completed.”
This is classic Weston: he followed his Vision, was comfortable with his work and did not seek, nor need the approval of others.
Here are some of my favorite Weston quotes:
"Photography is a poor man's art and anyone who wants an
original print should be able to own one."
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“The fact is that relatively few photographers ever master their medium. Instead they allow the medium to master them and go on an endless squirrel cage chase from new lens to new paper to new developer to new gadget, never staying with one piece of equipment long enough to learn its full capacities, becoming lost in a maze of technical information that is of little or no use since they don’t know what to do with it.”
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"I should be able to look down at my feet and see something to photograph."
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“Now to consult the rules of composition before making a picture is a little like consulting the law of gravitation before going for a walk. Such rules and laws are deduced from the accomplished fact; they are the products of reflection.”
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“When subject matter is forced to fit into preconceived patterns, there can be no freshness of vision. Following rules of composition can only lead to a tedious repetition of pictorial clichés.”
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“Why limit yourself to what your eyes see when you have such an opportunity to extend your Vision?”
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“Anything more than 500 yards from the car just isn’t photogenic.”
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Each year I peek into the mind of Edward Weston by reading his "Day Books," which is his two-volume diary from his time in Mexico. It inspires me to think for myself, to see for myself, and to create for myself.
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Howard Roark is a fictitious character from Ayn Rand's novel: The Fountainhead. Roark is an architect who has a strong Vision of what he wants to create, but it flies in the face of what is popular, what is taught, and what the critics like. (the character is thought to be loosely based upon Frank Lloyd Wright, another hero of mine)
But Howard is true to his Vision, at great personal cost. He believes in unwavering integrity in his personal life and in his creations. Here are some of my favorite quotes from Howard Roark:
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"He didn't want to be great, but to be thought great by others."
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“Men have been taught that it is a virtue to agree with others. But the creator is the man who disagrees. Men have been taught that it is a virtue to swim with the current. But the creator is the man who goes against the current. Men have been taught that it is a virtue to stand together. But the creator is the man who stands alone.”
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“I don’t make comparisons. I never think of myself in relation to anyone else. I just refuse to measure myself as part of anything. I’m an utter egotist.”
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"Self respect is something that can't be killed. The worst thing is to kill a man's pretense at it'"
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This is Roark's response when told by the College Dean that no one would let him design buildings that followed his unique Vision:
"That’s not the point. The point is, who will stop me?"
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A newspaper's architectural critic, who had been savagely critical of Roark's designs, runs into Roark and asks:
"Mr. Roark, we're alone here. Why don't you tell me what you think of me? In any words you wish. No one will hear us."
Roark: "But I don't think of you.”
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Yes, Roark is a fictitious character, and he can be being anything the author wants him to be; independent, brave and defiant. But the philosophies espoused by the author, have inspired me to see more independently.
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Thinking and seeing independently is incredibly hard, because it's in our DNA to conform, to go along with the crowd, and to fit in. And sometimes in life that's a good thing, but in art...it's deadly.
Art is a selfish pursuit, it's about expressing what's in you, even if it's ugly, doesn't conform or is unpopular. And when you conform and seek to please others, then your ability to see for yourself is squashed, and it will eventually shrivel and die.
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How do you become independent, to think and see for yourself? Here's some of the things that I do:
Ask: why am I creating?
This is an important first step. The "why" you are creating will determine everything else that you do. If your desire is to "win and gain likes," then you will go one way. If your desire is to express something that's inside of you, then you'll go another.
This step requires that you be completely honest with yourself, something that's not easy to do.
Define success for yourself:
For some, the classic definition of success will be their goal: fame, fortune, gallery representation and a book.
But for me, success is freedom: the freedom to create what I love, without the desire to follow the crowds/experts/rules, and without worrying if others will like my work.
What is your definition of success? Write it down and read it often.
Stop Competing:
Art is not a competition, I shouldn’t be trying to be better than someone else, but working to express something that’s inside of me. Competition in art, brings out qualities that are incompatible with personal expression.
Competing also reinforces the mistaken belief that a winning image is a great image, and that one that doesn't win, isn't good.
Stop Comparing:
“Comparison is the thief of joy“ said Theodore Roosevelt.
I used to spend hours looking at other's images, comparing their work to my own...and feeling bad. Why hadn’t I created that image, or thought of that idea?
Comparing serves no useful purpose, and is harmful because it puts the focus on what "they" are doing instead of what “you“ are doing.
And as my mother used to say to me: you stop worrying what others are doing, and just worry about Cole. Good advice mom.
Consider Photographic Celibacy:
Consider taking a break from looking at other people's images, and focus on your Vision. I've been doing it for over 15 years now, and still find the practice incredibly useful. I recognize that most people are skeptical about the idea, but how about a 3 or 6 month trial?
You might be surprised at what you learn.
Skip the critiques:
Stop asking others for input on your work, because "their opinion" is based on their likes, dislikes and Vision. Following other‘s advice is the exact opposite of seeing for yourself.
Instead learn to critique your own work by asking yourself these questions:
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- What do I think of my image?
- Did it turn out the way I envisioned?
- If not, how so?
- What do I love about this image?
- How can I enhance those things that I love?
- What don't I like about this image?
- How can I deemphasize or eliminate those things?
- Do I love what I've created?
Learning to self-critique is a much better way to see, than by following another's advice or following rules. Asking other’s opinion is the easier path, but not the better one.
Believe in Your Creative Abilities:
This was a tough one for me, because I didn't believe that I had any creative ability. And as I have talked with other photographers, I‘ve discovered that I was not unique in my self-doubts. I think many of us were drawn to photography because we thought it was the perfect medium for we non-creative types.
But I've learned this important truth: we all have the ability to be creative, everyone single one of us. For some, that creativity lies close to the surface, and for the rest of us, we need to work a little harder to find it. But it's there, I promise!
Find your Vision:
This is the most important step, because your Vision is simply how you see once you've pushed all of the other voices out of your head. Vision is the key to being successful, if your goal is to create images that you love.
And once you've found your Vision, you will gain a confidence that allows you to ignore what others are doing, not care what other's think of your work, shake off criticism and love the work that you create.
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None of this is easy, and it's not a one time exercise. I am constantly fighting the desire to conform, to see how others have seen and to create for likes. It's an addiction that never goes away, and one that I must constantly work to resist.
But it's worth it! Because at the end of the day, you will have created honest work that you love, and you will be in control of your happiness.
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I just came home from Maui and while there, found some time to create a few new images.
The above image is one of the few images that I didn't envision as I stood before the scene, but instead it came about because of a post-processing error.
You can read more about this image in "The Story Behind the Image" below.
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I'm always drawn to these isolated and solitary objects.
Perhaps that says something about me? (that's a shrink question)
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A new addition for my "Jetties" portfolio. |
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And an addition to my "Beauty in Death" portfolio. |
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In a way, I've been working on the "Powerlines" project for years. I created my first powerline image (above) in 2008, on the outskirts of San Francisco.
I loved the image, but at the time, I didn't think that photographing powerlines was an "appropriate" fine art project.
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And then in 2010 I created this image in Minneapolis, and again loved the image but did not think that such mechanical objects were "art worthy."
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But my eye kept going back to them, here's an image from 2015.
I wanted to photograph them because they appealed to me, and I had a passion for them, but I still had that nagging thought: these are not appropriate fine art subjects.
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And then in 2019 I just gave in an pursued my powerlines as a project.
Here was my thinking: I've found a subject that I have both a Passion for, and a Vision of. Who is to say what is "art" or "fine art?" And more importantly, why to I care what other people say it is? And even more important than that, why do I need to label it?
It's a project that I have a Passion for and a Vision. That's enough.
It led me to the epiphany: I create my best work at the intersection of Vision and Passion.
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And so off I went, actively pursuing this project. |
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And then COVID hit.
Fortunately, this project was perfect for COVID. I could wander about in the wilderness, looking for great powerline images while avoiding people and cities.
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Sometimes an image fits into two different portfolios!
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The Powerlines portfolio is almost complete, not because I've run out of ideas, but because it just feels like it's time.
I want to create a few more images, and then I'll be off on a new project (that I hope will reveal itself to me soon).
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"The Story Behind the Image" |
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Dancing Windmills
I'm a big believer in "Vision driven" images: when I stand at a scene, I can visualize the final image. I do not just shoot a bunch of images and then later hope to stumble upon a great image in post-processing.
That's just how I work.
In recent weeks, perhaps because of a YouTube post that John Barclay and I did, there's been a lot of discussion as to "when" Vision takes place. My answer was: as I stand before the scene, not before and not after.
But other's said their Vision took place later, in post-processing.
That's something that I just couldn't relate to. I argued that vision should come first, and it then drives the shot and the post-processing. I argued that this was the more purposeful approach.
Well a few weeks ago I learned an important lesson: I had created the above image, well not exactly the image above, but this one:
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This is the image that I had envisioned as I stood before the scene. But the image wasn't exactly right and I was working to bring it into compliance with my Vision.
Here was the problem: I love photographing windmills but always have the same challenge with them. I want to use a long exposure for the water or sky, but that makes the blades disappear, which I don't like. And so to capture the blades, I use a "longish" exposure, one that gives the blades implied motion, but doesn't obliterate them.
That exposure works perfectly for the blades, but it creates another problem: I don't get the smooth water and sky that comes from a longer exposure. In this image, I was okay with the sky, but wanted smooth water.
This was the problem I was trying to fix in post-processing: smoothing out the water.
I had used the smudge tool in the past (thanks Jack Brinn) to create the look of a long exposure from a still iceberg image.
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It works really well when you have a fairly isolated subject that you don't want to smudge along with the water and sky. And so I thought I'd try it on my windmill image.
But the windmills were not isolated from the background like the iceberg was, and so I had to work carefully to smudge only the water, but not the windmill supports or blades.
It was detailed and tedious work.
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And then "whoops!" I accidently hit a windmill with the smudge tool...and I liked what I saw! It made the windmill look like one of those little dancing men, the kind you see at car washes. Very whimsical! |
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I thought: how cool is this! And so I made all of the windmills dance.
And then I thought: my Vision for this image just took place during post-processing...that’s not how I normally work.
What lessons did I take away from fortuitous mistake? That there are no absolutes, there are always exceptions and my way is not the only way. We all see differently, and we all work differently.
The only thing that matters is the final image, not how you got there.
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Two Kimonos
The winner of the last print drawing is Miles Boorman who will be receiving a print of "Balance."
Congratulations Miles, please contact me and arrange for your print to be delivered.
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For this month's print drawing, I'll be giving away "Two Kimonos" (above). This image was created in Tokyo.
Thanks for entering!
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