I don't have the foggiest idea why I shoot what I do. What about you?

[steve_mareno1]

<p>I rather like the two shots that you linked to. Contrary to what a lot of left brain dominant people think (such as internet forum participants :), knowing what you have and why you have it is not necessarily a good thing. We are better off letting the intuitive side of our minds have a freer reign than we normally would when it comes to creativity.</p>

<p>You can't figure it out anyway. Why do I like short women w/ brown hair? Who knows? I just do.</p>

[Norma Desmond]

<p>Supriyo, I think there can be a lot of good reasons for trying to figure out one's motivations for making photos. That, IMO, is not the same as putting pictures into words or describing in words what is visual or aesthetic. It's different from trying to describe a picture or even why you like a picture. <em>"Why do I do this"</em> or <em>"Why did I (or will I) take this picture"</em> are questions that could, if one desires and one is able, increase self awareness. Usually nothing wrong with self awareness and it's often a very positive thing unless it gets extreme and becomes an unhealthy sort of self consciousness or certainly if one doesn't feel the need or desire to go there.</p>

<p>I should add that addressing one's motivations for shooting different things or for shooting in the first place are different from trying to figure out why one likes something and not something else.</p>

[Norma Desmond]

<p>Steve, like you, I think intuition is vital in creativity. But I also think the history of the most creative people shows that their intuition was very often combined with big and great ideas. A lot of thinking and talking and discussing has gone on throughout the history of photography and art.</p>

<p>In short, I don't think "we" are better off one way or the other and I don't think it has to be a choice between intuition and thoughtfulness, because I think they can and often do work together. I think people will naturally approach it differently. I don't think there's a default better off here. </p>

[Supriyo]

<p>Fred,<br /> I agree it is inspiring to think about what motivates us to take pictures, and looking back at these forums, a lot has been discussed on this subject. Many times, we can rationalize or express such motivations in words to some extent, but in cases where you can't (as Lannie stated in the OP), I would just stop trying to and accept it. Otherwise it can become an unhealthy obsession as you pointed out.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>I should add that addressing one's motivations for shooting different things or for shooting in the first place are different from trying to figure out why one likes something and not something else.</p>

</blockquote>

<p><br /> Thinking about it, this does make sense. War photographers like Capa shot compelling images, but did they really like the scenes that they shot? Same goes with many documentary photographers. But then again, liking may not be the term one can always associate with art.<br /> <br /> I realize now, I shouldn't have used the word 'like' in the first place. What I meant was, 'Why one thinks of a certain art work as substantial'. Yes, I agree that is different than asking 'What motivates one to shoot?' I myself can appreciate a wide variety of photographic works, but when it comes to shooting, I tend towards a narrower range of subjects. So I find your comment helpful, thanks.</p>

[jaydann_walker]

<p>I have a sometimes maddening urge to record what I see in my life's wanderings. I am also a retired architect, and I think in grids. Everything I see is linear. When I look at a beautiful 1800s colonial building, I find I'm sketching it in my mind. So photographing it is only an extension of what I am thinking. </p>

<p>As an occasional photographer for publication, I shoot what my publisher clients want me to, for the books they are producing. With architecture, this is easier than it sounds, because most of the old buildings I photographs are approached and shot according to set formulas. Compose the scene, set up, put the camera on a tripod, check all the settings, verify there is film in the bloody thing (or power in the batteries if I'm shooting with my D700), then shot shoot shoot - long shots, medium shots, close ups, detail shots. Lastly, a panoramic super long shot to show the palm trees or the ricefields or the kangaroos in the paddock. </p>

<p>Other scenes evoke long cherished memories. Old barns remind me of my late grandfather's barn in Eastern canada in the 1970s. Limestone hills take me back to my university and young adult years in New Mexico. Australian bush scenes with that wonderful Antipodean light set a spark alight in my heart. I shoot the streets everywhee I go to evoke the busyness of city life. I photograph markets all over the world because I love food. Above all, I take photographs of people because I like people, and enjoy the conversations I often have with them after the photos have been taken (with their permission of course). </p>

<p>I photograph family members and friends and our three beloved cats because I want lasting memories of all of them. </p>

<p>There is nothing "arty" in my photography, although on occasion I have been accused of being an artist. </p>

<p>I worked all this out in my mind and to my lasting satisfaction, many decades ago. The cameras I carry with me (and they come everywhere, every day) are an extension to my eye, my hand, and my mind. </p>

<p>My life often feels like I'm on a wheel, forever revolving, always inevitably returning to the same position, time and again. My camera records the memories for me of the many interesting things I see along the way. </p>

<p>Simple as anything, really. Nothing complex about it, nothing at all. Maybe. </p>

<p>JD</p>

[Julie H]

<p>There is a cartilaginous filigree that permeates existence that is Things That Are and Will Be Remembered. There are also those things that Might Be Remembered. Then there is all the rest: Things That Nobody Will Remember. For example:<br>

.</p>

<p><img src="https://unrealnature.files.wordpress.com/2016/05/underfoot.jpg" alt="" width="700" height="557" /><br>

.</p>

<p>Some photographers work entirely in or in pursuit of Things That Are and Will Be Remembered. Whether or not those things remain cartilaginous, or melt into air, the photographers who pursue them have a Reason, a Rationale for what they do. Ditto for those who, in a more activist role, pursue and hope to promote Things That Might Be Remembered into the fixity and chewiness of Are and Will Be.</p>

<p>What about those of us who (aside from deeper projects) make pictures of Things That Nobody Will Remember? Where's the rationale? Lannie asks. I think it's for self enjoyment. I mean that, not in the usual flippant, throw-away sense, but in the sense of honoring, noticing, simply enjoying, <em>discovering</em>, the flavor and aliveness of your own tastes and pleasures and attentions. It's good to be alive.; surely worth noticing and honoring with your attention. The remembered is necessary, but it's not alive.</p>

[Landrum Kelly]

<p><strong>THE ETERNAL EPHEMERAL</strong></p>

<blockquote>

<p>Things That Might Be Remembered into the fixity and chewiness of Are and Will Be</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Let me chew on that a bit, Julie.</p>

<blockquote>

<p>What about those of us who (aside from deeper projects) make pictures of Things That Nobody Will Remember? . . . I think it's for self enjoyment. . . honoring, noticing, simply enjoying, <em>discovering</em>, the flavor and aliveness of your own tastes and pleasures and attentions. It's good to be alive.; surely worth noticing and honoring with your attention. . . .</p>

</blockquote>

<p>That's it. That's exactly it. It's what is in the eternal present, too ubiquitous to be memorable, too concrete to ignore.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

[Landrum Kelly]

<p>Here's another somewhat unfortunately perishable example.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p><div></div>

[Landrum Kelly]

<p>Keep those postcards coming, folks, <strong><em>PICTURE</em> postcards. </strong>(No limit per customer)<br /> <br />Be prepared to explain yourself!</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

[Landrum Kelly]

<blockquote>

<p>I shoot to make pictures, "make" being the operative word, to make something.</p>

 

</blockquote>

<p>Thank you for that one, Fred. It is about creation, not just discovery: <em><strong>MAKING!</strong></em></p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

[Landrum Kelly]

<blockquote>

<p>I like the tactile feel of the drops hitting the strdeet, and maybe it also brings up the memory of that scent that arises when a summer rain first hits dry pavement. It's an interesting view in that it really forces the viewer to focus on the drops themselves. Not a rain-paved street from a distance, but the drops themselves up close. --Steve Gubin</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Thank you, Steve. Yes, it was the raindrops that caught my eye as I sat waiting for the light to change, big drops hitting little pools in the nearly empty Autozone parking lot, if I recall correctly. I think that it might have been shot on the morning of Earth Day, 2011.</p>

<p>I have to say of such pictures that, if they have any power, it is because they resonate with something very primal: who has not seen and relished the big drops plinking down after a drought or at the end of a hot day in July or August? We want to give expression to something when we shoot, and water is pretty darned important to us. So is most everything else that we see, and somehow we know this.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

[sjmurray]

<p>Fred, to answer your response to me, I totally agree that we all have different "approaches" ranging from the instinctive or intuitive, to the very thoughtful. Jung believed there were four basic "types" of people: thinking, feeling, intuitive and sensate. There might be something to that. He also believed we were dominant in one of these but that the other modes could have influence as well, though not as strongly. I think I am more "sensate" when it comes to processing the visual world, and "thinking" when I am at work (I work with people). So for me like I said, the visual world just grabs me all the time, everyday, and shouts at me to notice something, which is what I will photograph if I have a camera. I'm not thinking about any particular theme or project, which is probably more common among photographers. My "thinking" mode is turned on at work, in health care where I am with patients. I feel balanced in this respect, that I can use photography to satisfy my sensate, right brain impulses, and my work to engage my "thinking" capacities. I feel lucky.</p><div></div>

[Norma Desmond]

Steve Murray, my remarks were directed to Steve Mareno. You tend generally to speak about your own experience, which

I appreciate. Mareno was speaking to what WE are better off doing. I was reminding him that we don't all photograph the same

way.

[Tony Parsons]

<p>I think my 'rationale' for photography can be summed up by this phrase :<br>

'Each a glimpse - and gone forever.'<br>

I want to record what I have seen.</p>

<p>Tony</p>

[sjmurray]

<p>Sorry Fred. I only saw Steve Gubin's remark and assumed your comment was directed to me! I didn't see Steve Mareno's.</p>

[Julie H]

<p>And then there's the lying ...<br>

.</p>

 

<blockquote>

<p>"... film your child as it blows out the candles on the cake. But there are never two images. Kodak tells you: film this image. It does not say: and then film the image where you hit your child in the face. Because from that moment onwards, one would have to show interest in one's family life." — <em>Jean-Luc Godard</em></p>

</blockquote>

[photo_galleries]

<p>My rationale is pretty simple: "it seemed like a good idea at the time."</p>

 

[Landrum Kelly]

<blockquote>

<p>My rationale is pretty simple: "it seemed like a good idea at the time."</p>

 

</blockquote>

<p>Keith, you have given me a title, if I should ever write my memoirs.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

[Jack McRitchie]

Okay, I've got the two cents admission so I'll play. Actually it's a pretty good question and one that swims around in my head from time to time. I think for me it's all about perception and how we see. I'm very interested in that because I suspect that what we see or at least how we interpret what we see is programmed. I try to notice what I notice when I shoot, if that makes any sense, and what I find is that my perception changes from day to day, hour to hour and often minute to minute. I'll be wandering around in a fog and suddenly something shifts in me and there are pictures everywhere, the world has subtly changed. So really I don't think that pictures are not out there at all, at least the images that somehow make sense to me and get me excited; they result in a breakthrough - however temporary - in how I cognize the world. (I almost said "conjure up the world). If I ever taught a photo class I'd take my students to an empty parking lot and say don't come back until you've found a great picture. I suspect that intent plays a big role when it comes to picture taking and just about everything else, really. "Seek and ye shall find" is much more than an a biblical aphorism; it's the foundation of everything.

[Landrum Kelly]

<blockquote>

<p>I'll be wandering around in a fog and suddenly something shifts in me and there are pictures everywhere, the world has subtly changed.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>I have noticed the same thing, Jack. For me, it is like the world comes alive, although in truth I am the one who has come alive. What on earth happens such that we lose that power from time to time? For me, that power to see photos is also associated with the power to appreciate the beauty in the world, which is not to say that all of my shots are about trying to capture beauty. Perhaps a better way to say it is that the world suddenly becomes more interesting. I literally cannot seem to help trying to photograph when I am seeing so clearly.</p>

<p>Alas, none of this means that others appreciate my work better when I feel that I am seeing more "clearly" (for lack of a better word). They may, for all I know, be even more inclined to ask, "What on earth did you photograph that for?" or simply, "Why?!"</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

[DB_Gallery]

<p>I mostly shoot to make significant enough work that it has purpose in my community and to those who count on me to do that. A lot of the time photos fall easily into the vein of an ongoing project or type of narrative so I stay fluent in that particular dialect & having the photos I make have a purpose seems to often bring about the best work.</p>

<p>Otherwise it would be idle snapping of eye candy and I think I would get rather bored of that in short order...</p><div></div>

[Landrum Kelly]

<blockquote>

<p>I mostly shoot to make significant enough work that it has purpose in my community and to those who count on me to do that. . . .</p>

<p>Otherwise it would be idle snapping of eye candy and I think I would get rather bored of that in short order...</p>

</blockquote>

<p>That's interesting, Daniel, and points up one of the differences between being a pro and an amateur, I suppose. Although I have been shooting since my teens, I have always shot as an amateur. For the last fourteen years (since I got my first digital camera), I have shot overwhelmingly as a release from the pressures of work. I still shoot primarily on the run, working in a few shots here and there when I can during the day.</p>

<p>So, except for a few shots that I make from a sense of familial obligation, I shoot almost completely as a recreational activity--in the real and original sense of "recreating" myself, renewing myself, getting some therapeutic benefit from shooting. I often feel bad (or at least "wired") when I start shooting, but often feel better when I get through--or when I am processing later. (I thus see no correlation between how I feel when I snap the picture and my own later assessment of the quality of the shot.)</p>

<p>So, I guess pretty much everything I shoot is what you would call "eye candy"--or at least "for fun." It can be addictive, but it seems a pretty harmless and even therapeutic addiction in and of itself--apart from a tendency to buy too much equipment. I reserve unto myself the possibility of doing some event or portrait photography for money in the future, but so far I have not made that leap.</p>

<p>I wonder how many people share your view of your work--it sounds more like work, and mine sounds more like plain old fun. I don't tend to get bored with it, since it is not my work, I suppose.</p>

<p>The only exception to what I have said above would be during a period in my sixties in which I taught at a black college. While there I did some event shooting--and even informal portraiture--with some sense of obligation to the college community. I have also had some projects which I thought were worthy, but I doubt that many of those projects have had much enduring value in the eyes of others.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

[Norma Desmond]

<blockquote>

<p>That's interesting, Daniel, and points up one of the differences between being a pro and an amateur, I suppose.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>That's probably not the distinction I would make, since I shoot more like Daniel but am not a pro. I shoot usually with purpose, at least half the time with at least somewhat of a social purpose in mind or in the back of my mind as part of my overall approach to my work, if not always with specific things in mind for each shot. I also have a lot of fun doing that. I consider it not really recreational for myself, but I don't consider it work either. But I can actually have fun even when I know there are serious overtones. I have great fun shooting at my nephew's lifesharing community for people with disabilities, but that's also a project of mine which I do take seriously and care about. Maybe fun is the wrong word, but I certainly enjoy the fact that I see my photographing as having purpose, even if within that I often let go, explore, experiment, allow for accidents, and allow myself to go beyond my thought-out purpose in hopes that I will advance it and not restrict that purpose only to what I already know or feel.<br>

<br>

For pure recreational fun, I go out to eat and play cards and watch a couple of stupid TV shows that I get hooked on.</p>

[Landrum Kelly]

<p>Fred, when I got my first digital camera back in early 2002, it occurred to me (based on where I lived that year) to try to capture vestiges of the Old South. My "purpose" was largely to document as many old houses and barns and other decaying things as I could, before they disappeared entirely.</p>

<p>Over time, the structures which I photographed became less important to me than the backdrops--the sky, the clouds, abstract forms, the vagaries of light, etc. If there is an ordering principle--I wouldn't exactly call it it a purpose--in what I shoot now, it is less and less about the subject(s) alone and more and more about the larger context, including that natural "backdrop," in which the subjects appear.</p>

<p>If there is yet something else that pulls me now, something that draws me out of my house (and sometimes into the photo), it is likely to be that natural backdrop--or the more general theme of what might be called "nature reclaiming its own"--in whatever setting I am moving through. I still take pictures of nature, but I do not always go out into nature to find nature. Unless I drive to the mountains or into the countryside to find what nature remains (which I often do), I am typically content now to show glimpses of nature mixed with the artificial world that society has constructed. I do not typically look for people in the vast majority of my shots. I do not typically have a social agenda <em>per se</em>. I just shoot what I see, especially if I can find something that interests me or pleases my esthetic sense. I shoot almost exclusively for myself, but I happy to share what I see. Most people are fairly indifferent to what I shoot, which doesn't bother me at all. If I get some occasional resonance from other photographers, that is great. I don't live for it. My photography, in spite of being a surprisingly large part of my life, is pretty much a solitary endeavor on the part of a very private individual. I am not out there shooting "solitude." I am a solitary individual simply shooting the world that he sees, whatever and wherever that might happen to be. If I lived in a real city, I would be out in the streets. Since I commute to other small towns, my shots are often those of a sometimes suburban, sometimes rural commuter. When I can, I get to the mountains. I avoid cities of any size.</p>

<p>My real work is still political philosophy, and my writing projects often span decades. That is where my social concerns and obligations can be found or "seen"--as well as in the courses that I teach almost gratis as an adjunct professor of philosophy, politics, or languages, wherever I can find work that is fulfilling. I haven't taught full-time since 2011, when I chaired a department. I have had enough of academe and teach on the margins, mostly for fun, but with a sense of obligation to make my courses the best they can be. They are now mostly elementary courses, since the real plums go to the full-time faculty. That is fine. They are younger and deserve their turn. My writing agenda is my real work. Nothing that I do makes very much money. My photography does not make any--not yet, anyway.</p>

<p>In a very real sense, most of my photography thus really is "just for fun" and thereby really is recreational, sometimes for relaxation, sometimes (at night) for a bit more excitement. Photography is thus secondary to my real work, and yet it helps build a sustainable and agreeable fabric to my life, a fabric which I find meaningful when conjoined with my real work. I often spend evenings processing, especially when I have had enough of reading or grading papers.</p>

<p>Photography for me is as much an escape from as an escape to. It has about the same level of significance that singing, running, hiking, playing the guitar have played in my life, except that I do share it with whoever cares to look at it. Whatever gives psychological support to my writing is what I do. Sometimes that is photography. Sometimes it is something else. The writing is primary, but it is hard and can be alienative. Photography is one way that I get away from writing for awhile so that I can come back to it afresh. I yet still value photography in and of itself, but I don't think many other people are likely to do so.</p>

<p>--Lannie</p>

[aplumpton]

<p>Interesting that you mention writing as being difficult, Lannie, as at this very minute (which is now part of the past) I am procrastinating from a five-part text I am preparing to go with my exhibition this summer. It comes to life much more slowly and with more pain than the photographs that will go with it. It has been and is a struggle. My dear common law wife says I have it all wrong. "Just describe the photos or series of photos rather than trying to complement them by writing something more poetic or philosophical and it will come more easily." She is probably right on, but I am a stubborn b.</p>

<p>I really have enjoyed reading your recent comments along with those of Daniel, Fred, Jack (I might give my two photographic eyes for one of his) and Phil, to name but a few. I agree about the purpose part and communal connection desire in photography, even though I think leaving space and time for serendipity is also important and probably that is a luxury more available to amateur photographers.</p>

<p>Professional photographers like Daniel have my admiration (and I am trying to recall the name of another motivated professional from Montreal who once gladly shared his expertise here and even sponsored four memberships each year to encourage others) as purpose is just one of many goals and attributes he must have to survive and excel in a tough professional sector. I only have to do that in my own profession of advanced minerals and materials technology in which I have the good luck of being required for only two or three full months per year; I thoroughly enjoy my interaction with many young scientists and engineers and older specialists who work for my client. Perhaps in a way that connection inspires me to seek photo projects and objectives to attain. On the other hand I am not that cartesian, and photograph often without much conscious intention - the brain's desire and emotions are not always predictable. </p>

<p>Like Fred, I feed off contacts with others and sharing their objectives or goals. My fun time is often with them, relaxing in conversations that sometimes go somewhere in expanding our experience but always are agreeable and fulfilling, especially over a good dinner and good wine. We are really social creatures. Sometimes those we initially may feel little desire to know turn out to be great contacts or friends. In some ways I think photography somehow catalyzes that, as it encourages us to see and report or interpret the world about us.</p>

<p>Julie, I don't think I would give passing marks to the English translator of Goddard, but what he is (apparently) saying about the two faces of family photographs is right. We should not just show beauty but keep in mind that the reality of a situation may be different and we should try to show things other than a Kodak ad might have suggested, and for the benefit of subject and viewers. Why and what we photograph should be a mirror of our approach and person. My two cents worth, probably burdened with some self-evident facts, even if these days they only add up to 1.5 US cents (Hey guys, visit Canada to photograph, a current bargain!).</p>