Week 2: Why People Photograph

Art is, inherently, a personal endeavor. History puts emphasis on the artist. Why the artist made his or her art is as important as what it actually contains; the two are inseparable. Most (if not all) artists put their soul, their mind, thoughts, beliefs, worries, and their love, into their work in order to make it truly meaningful.

Photographers are artists. The above statements apply to the group no less than they do the fine artists. Photography is, of course, a different medium with different practices, but this is a discussion for another time. As is consistent in Robert Adams' Why People Photograph, photography is driven by personal interests: home, family, political-social beliefs, activism. Few can make a comfortable living solely on their photography, making it a labor of love. Why else would a person throw themselves into uncomfortable situations and even harms way ("Two acquaintances have while working been injured my livestock, and one when he fell from a railroad car.")?

It is not always love that motivates photographers. The best word I can muster to describe my motivation for photography is feverish. I first took up photography to replace a sense of longing I felt (and frankly, still feel) upon seeing certain things in the world. To quote my previous blog post, "Looking out the window of a car, I am fascinated by some of the things I see, and I feel the need to harness them. Like if I don't capture it somehow, it will build up and drive me insane." These scenes share similar characteristics, and more than likely have the same mood as each other. For deep psychological reasons that I cannot begin to understand, I am attracted to them and photography is seems like the best way to capture them. Let's say that I am enamored by an abandoned warehouse (as I often am, cliché as that may be). To photograph it means to be at the location, to be there, until I believe I have taken sufficient photographs. It is an experience that also yields an end result.

A photograph of mine, taken (more or less) with the above in mind.

I know this one breaks a few rules of photography, but when I am photographing for myself, it does not matter whether it is a "good" photograph. What matters is that I capture what I felt when I saw the subject.

My apologies if that was long-winded; I still have yet to find the right words to describe my inspiration. Let us return to Robert Adams. "Your own photography is never enough." A very true statement in a number of ways. One, it serves as inspiration. This time last year, I had a lot of fun making a photograph inspired by cinematic lighting - the project wouldn't have been conceived had I not seen the work of numerous other photographers and filmmakers. Second, (and maybe this is primarily true for me, a student) we base our perception of great work off of previous masters. The history of photography - what has been done already - informs and influences the photography that we make. Every time I frame a shot, I briefly consult this archive to judge the success of what I am about to take. The question, "is this a good photograph?" however improper, is based off of the photography of others.

Week 1

After seeing the photography of An-My Le, I decided to research it a little more. I found that her series Trap Rock resonates a lot with my personal taste in photography. Trap Rock features work that is in the category of landscape photography because they depict a vast amount of outdoor space. While there are no people (to my delight), there are prominent man-made structures. The entire series focuses on large construction sites and industrial complexes. Sometimes, the land is partially stripped, sometimes there is large gear in the frame, but these things are always dwarfed by the landscape. "I'm attracted to [the gear] for the same reason the men who join the military are attracted to it. There's...a certain excitement that takes you away from the desk and the office job."

Years ago, I began photography because I found was the best way that I could represent certain things that I see in the world. Looking out the window of a car, I am fascinated by some of the things I see, and I feel the need to harness them. Like if I don't capture it somehow, it will build up and drive me insane. These scenes that I am fascinated by include those that An-My Le photographed in Trap Rock. These photographs are very much about the structures associated with construction. They contain lots of metal that tend to cris-cross over each other, sometimes symmetrically and sometimes not. They contain muddy roads trampled by huge construction equipment, seemingly abandoned when there is no activity.

These photographs appear very still, as if they have been temporarily abandoned by the people who dwell there. Even in the top photograph, where there is a blurry stripe of a train speeding past (I did not see it until the artist pointed it out while speaking about it). They are heavily industrial, but contain bits of nature like trees and the occasional shrub. I chose these photographs to write about because they embrace the industrial side of Trap Rock the most. They feature vast sprawling complexes of metal and wire as they appear without human movement and presence.

While Trap Rock inspires me visually, An-My Le's military work inspires me conceptually. "I think I have very conflicted ideas about the military. It was something that drew me, but at the same time it was something that was repellent because of what had happened in Vietnam," says Le about her interest in the American military. The connection between the photographs of Trap Rock and her collections Small Wars and 29 Palms is the equipment used in both industries. Le is interested in photographing the often large machinery the military uses, making it appear dwarfed by the landscape. This is because she believes that no matter what, humans are actually quite small compared to nature.