I had become frustrated by the chaotic nature of my work, and felt unconfident about sharing my own view of the world. One month it was night photography, the next colour landscape, and then it might be “street”- great for learning new techniques, but not for building a cohesive portfolio. Strong themes had begun to appear, but my output was all over the place – I had to focus on a small number of projects and one style.
So I spent time looking at the sort of pictures I was interested in alongside those of my own that I was happiest with, and I made a conscious decision about the kind of images I really wanted to make. The divergent strands and unexplored ideas had to stop, and I decided that my personal projects would be made with 35mm, black and white film, which I knew would make me work hard and think harder.
Bruce Davidson nailed it in his recent Leica interview. “…People tend to stop too soon…they don’t stay long enough. If you’re going to photograph anything, you have to spend a long time with it so your subconscious has a chance to bubble to the surface.” That was me, until I forced myself to change my habits, and realised that photography is not a race, and that the very best spend a long time developing a distinctive signature style.
Initially I found gaining distance from my own work hard, so feedback from friends, photographers and curators was crucial, although I didn’t always want to hear what they have to say! Even constructive criticism can hurt when you’re old enough to think you know best and are wrapped up in your images.
They told me to stick to one style of picture and to make work that feels like a series, and that’s what I have tried to do for three years now. My Leicas are an important part of this process, allowing me the consistency and quality I need.
My search for clarity began by picking strong single images as a starting point and as first steps in the process of fully exploring a topic. It is often recommended to use an output such as an exhibition or a web gallery to focus and refine a body of work, and my goal was to use the resulting sequences to create new galleries on my website and also to make handmade artist’s books. This also meant that I needed to learn new practical skills, a challenge I find invigorating.
Deciding to make the books not only forced me to choose which images are really important and to find new connections between them, but importantly made me examine my relationship with certain pictures, bringing a better understanding of the work. This process has allowed me to come to terms with my work through selection, printing and sequencing, rather than just collecting images in endless hard-drives and folders. What I have come to realise is that the content I am constantly struggling with in my pictures is actually what drives them and gives them life.
Many photographers most successful pictures are made close to home, and in tough economic times it makes sense to maximise whatever is on your doorstep. Every summer, only half a mile away, the City of Sunderland holds an air show. Over two days, civilian and military aircraft display over the ocean in front of hundreds of thousands of people. For three years I had tentatively photographed the event, but in the last two years have invested a lot of time in an attempt to “finish” the project. This year I actually found myself making pictures that I knew would fit into my narrative, and the sequences I had in mind, and even managed to stop myself repeating what I already had. The time spent planning and writing out lists of potential shots paid dividends.
Going back to Bruce’s words, I now realise it took me a few years at the show before I saw the true nature of the event, but that time was not wasted, as familiarity allows me to peer below the surface.
The air show markets itself correctly as a family day out. The flying display is often a small part of the programme, and many people are drawn to the beach, fun fairs, and the fast food and promotional and toy stalls. Alongside the consumerism are the Army and Air Force Recruitment and PR teams, unarmed combat displays, charities for wounded soldiers and their families, and the real guns for smiling children to “fire” at their smiling parents, who record the event with their camera-phones. It all seems like a microcosm of modern life, full of disturbing contradictions that seem to pass unnoticed.
Three years on, I would not call my any of my projects “complete.” I am too much of a perfectionist for them ever to feel closed, but now I am more confident that my concepts and pictures are tighter, and that they communicate much better than before, and that’s what it’s all about.
To see more of Roger’s work, visit his website.
Roger, I share your views so completely. Its the urgency of sharing that kills the effort to take time and to connect images into stories with depth. I have found myself trying too hard to create iconic shots when instead I should have spent more time on each subject…
Good post. This blog is starting to get interesting.
Great gritty images showing real life and the camera sees it….and how we see it,or don’t in most cases..
Thanks Mikael – yes there is an urgency to share pictures and to experiment, but I have learned that sometimes it is best to wait and to live with both the single images and the series.
One of the main causes of the lack of ‘continuity’ in a series of images, is the great destroyer, ‘haste’. I agree with you Roger, that the desire to share is exciting and urgent in the heat of the moment, but with the traditional film and ‘old style’ camera, patience is the watchword. It is the signature of personal style, and allows the photographer to come through, not the hurried pressurised ‘snapper’ or Paparazzi gangland attitude. Easy does it, but do it, and be happy with the results ! Good luck, Roger
Thank you for your post, Roger. Really interesting reading! I can really relate to the journey you’ve been on – the frustration with chaotic & unfocussed photography & the need for a brief, more or less.
I have come to the same realisation for myself, however until now have not made any decisions on exactly what I want to focus on (except B&W 35mm).
You have inspired me to take the photography bull by the horns and finally commit myself to more focussed photography!
Great read. Several years ago, I decided to get back into photography…not as a professional photographer, but as a means to express myself in a medium I enjoy. I’ve found myself experimenting with several different formats, each unique and interesting, but at the cost of not finding “me.” I think I am coming to grips with that, and can appreciate Roger’s struggle to develop his own style or identity. Still, the stuggle for me may be the best part of the journey. The “me” of today may not be the “me” of tomorrow, but hopefully my photographs will illuminate that transition.
Roger, I’ve enjoyed watching the development of your picturemaking on your own blog site. It is a real bonus to have your thoughts and insights about the process behind, and some of the reasons for, these strong photographs here on the Leica blog.
I look forward to seeing more of the handmade books too.
Jack Lowe Studio
Great blog post and excellent to read of your positive approach to a tricky mental task…
All sentient photographers must go through this several times in their career — the self-regulation and checking should be never-ending to keep one sharp…
Now, to really focus the mind and make sure of your approach and editing, you could slow things right down by making Platinum prints — your subconscious would really have a chance to bubble to the surface then!
In this age of ‘shoot it/share it/move on’, there should surely be two focus functions on a camera — one for the lens and another for the mind.
Good luck and see you soon.
Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to comment here and over on Facebook. Your positive responses and support are much appreciated.
José Carlo Burgos
I fully share that view. I identify with his search, which is essentially what I think that a true artist should do. I loved the article.