Tim Soter… blog.

There is a segment in the documentary ‘William Eggleston In the Real World’ (if I’m not confusing this with an article that I’ve read, instead of the documentary) where a student stands up and asks him, “do you take several photos of the (portrait, object or landscape) you’re shooting, or just one?”   Eggleston pauses and replies, “Just one.”  There’s another long pauses as the student tries to find a way to get more information beyond that curt reply and he asks, “Could you tell us why?”  And Eggleston responds that when he gets his developed negatives he would then have to choose between four of five and he doesn’t want to choose.  This of course is all coming though in a slow handed southern drawl and presented in an almost slightly annoyed manner as if to suggest, “is there any other way?”

I’ve tried to abide by this but I confess, sometimes the Olympus misfocuses and I would hate to get back a good image and have the focus be off.  So sometimes I take another shot, though not often.  Then while I’m “retaking” the photograph I’ll make an adjustment, recomposing slightly… and I’m not retaking the photo at all.  I’m taking a new photo.  A variation of the first.  And then I’m left with making a decision when the prints come back.  Above and below and the siblings.  Sophie’s Choice.

The above photo is most in line with the photos I have been making.  The angle and the crop are similar to photos I’ve made for this ongoing series.  But the straight forwardness of the photo below is different and for me a little exciting in its novelty.  It’s a little farther away than I normally allow myself to be.  It seems like is might be less about abstracting shapes and textures and more about the experience of standing there, where I’ve placed the viewer.  I see it both ways.  That is the problem.

In September, the New York Times published a piece by Tim Kreider (here) titled “The Referendum.”  One of the topics Kreider profiles is the frustration that humans have in choosing one path of life – in this case, the choice adults make to become (or not become) spouses and parents.  “We only get one chance at this, ” he writes, “with no do-overs.  Life is, in effect, a non-repeatable experiment with no control.”   I have a very, very difficult time making choices, large and small because I usually can see the possibilities and potential of all decisions and this become paralyzing.

Perhaps all we can do is simply embrace the luxury and privilege of having choices.

My resolution for the new decade is to truly accept some of the chaos which no one can control.  Bend like the reed and make mistakes.  The key to better photography and a happier life.

Best to everyone in the New Year!

Since editing and compiling The Ship Escaped, I’ve continued to shoot in the same style, while really evaluating and determining the works’ meaning.  In so doing I’ve realized that all of these images are self-portraits and there’s really a lot to be said for that.  In describing the entire body of work I would say the images are as I perceive myself; easily accessible, not too lofty, usually channel a dry sense of humor, and convey a curious investigation into the specific and an enthusiasm for life.  That isn’t to say that there aren’t a lot more intricacies to be discovered if one were to spend a little more time delving beneath the surface. A fellow artist noticed the repetition of fences in a lot of the images, a subtle barrier designed to keep the viewer from getting too close, which mirrors my own internal defense mechanisms.  Truly.  Aquarians are know for being friends to many but not letting any one person get too intimate.

There is a very fine line between the repetition in finding some consistency through a narrowed field of exploration… and a gimmick.  It’s something most photographers have to deal with at some point when making work.  “How much of my style is a way of making work that’s comfortable for me, and how much of it is an old standby or fall-back?”  Too much consistency equals not enough exploration.  The bait is all around – it’s much easier to have work accepted if it falls into a series.  A great deal of current photography books are shot in the style of the series; “I shoot flight attendants, here is a book full of photos of flight attendants.”  When one evaluates the work however, maybe two of the photos are memorable and the rest are there as filler to support the idea of the series.  The modern day handling of shooting serially can lack the time and effort needed for proper exploration.  And the reward given for the effort is won too easily.  (See previous post.)

I don’t feel that I’ve hit that problem yet while working in this series.  For me, I have been defining the series more in a past tense sense, by what was shot and why rather than consistent subject matter.  However I’m very aware of the potential to run into the same problem and no one is more critical of my work than me.  As I move forward, shooting more consciously within the series, I run the risk of simply “adding to what’s already there.”

The image above, shot about a month ago, is the last photograph containing a fence that I will ever be able to shoot unselfconsciously and naively.

I read a story on the PDN blog about an “artist” who takes photographs “(capturing) unaware New Yorkers during very private, very intimate times in their day, all played out in front of their apartment windows…”  I see this coverage as a trend that is not going away.  The press prefers to acknowledge the low-shock valued offerings on an attention starved individual as if it were something for discussion.  This work is an amateur idea, executed and presented in an amateur manner.  I’m not singling out PDN, this story can be found in many outlets.  Another recent example that comes to mind is that of the photographer who shoots spontaneous public nudes and was recently brought to court for his impromptu nude shoot at the Met.  This story was covered by the New York Post, NBC and CNN among others.

It all amounts to a version of pay-for-play, a business relationship where the media at large, through their past actions say, “You do something mildly shocking that we can run as ‘content’ and we’ll give you your fifteen minutes.”  I guess I find it obnoxious because it’s the state of Now.  No news agency or media outlet, high or low seems to be able to resist, fearful that they’ll be left behind.  None have the courage to call what is obvious: It’s not interesting.  It’s not a story.  It’s done for the media’s benefit and they are aware of that.  It’s cyclical and they complete it.

And that is the heart of it.  It’s demeaning to everyone involved, from the producer airing the story down to the viewer at home, eating his plate of spaghetti after a long day of work.  As a society we’ve come so far, do we really all agree that “boobies at the museum” is still shocking and worthy of taking up a time slot that could be devoted to the presentation or exploration of anything else new?  Say that description out loud.  “Boobies at the museum.”  That lets you know where we’re all at.

It’s time to say enough.

And to those who work in this type of “artistry” I say… go work really hard at something, come back and blow my mind.

Just a quick thought about technological photographic developments and their relationship to the History of Photography.  I all but stopped using a digital point and shoot because of the delay the shutter often had when I was shooting moving subjects, indoors usually, with flash.  I would press the shutter, FIRMLY mashing it down with my index finger.  A second and a half later the shutter would trip, the flash would fire and the moment would be lost.  Recently I had the thought that, one hundred years from now should everyone’s photos (digital files) survive hard drive crashes, physically lost media drives and multiple format changes, will this “operational complication” be identifiable.  Will there be a period, roughly ten years long, where the moments are a bit off – the Moment after the Moment.

I’m not assuming that it will be glaring, people have always taken staged “go on, get in there!” shots as well. The digital format also allows one to take hundreds and thousands more photos that one might have ever taken with a film point and shoot. Also I’m no purist rallying against digital photography, I earn a living using a digital camera, albeit an larger SLR.  I’m sure the lag time on point and shoots has been improved some since I decided to curb my frustration two years ago and it is of course still in its infancy.  Still, the very first mainstream point and shoot camera, the Kodak Brownie, with its metal latch and spring shutter had the best response time.  Its was as fast as the synapse firing in your brain sending the signal down your arm to your trigger finger.