Whoally oaxamole
Le backdate: Tuesday 1/4/11
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Spent the morning buried in the Juxtapose photo anthology, and it's like I went to the mind masseuse!
I don't buy many photo books, especially collections. Kinda stopped doing that at some point when I started feeling dissatisfied in my own reactions. The hopes of inspiration that well up when I first thumb through their pages go unfulfilled - the frames wash right over me. It all feels undigestable: empty calories, unpleasant roughage, or a shaming of my malnourished art eye which must just not know how to process it.
But this one...
It reminds me of the year I had season tickets to the symphony. I sat and squirmed and cleared my throat and daydreamed through probably four concerts before my... my what - my itchy attention span and chatty brain would hush up so I could start *listening*. For a brief couple of hours I ditched The Part that wakes me up and gets me out of bed, washes dishes, looks at the world as a mostly harmless place for a lucky person, makes pleasant conversation - the part that refuses to get lost, for fear I lose momentum. I let it go and actually tried to listen. And I heard spectacular things.
I like the artist statements in the book. The subtleties of personality shine right through when you're forced to write such a self-conscious, horrible thing. And it helps me look beyond my own limited checklist for effectiveness of a shot. It was cool reading and actually seeing them for strengths and weaknesses as writing or intent of the pictures. You can look right through to the discomfort, or purity of interest, or the self-importance, or very rare clarity of communication, or sense of purpose, or lack thereof. Some said things I relate to and always felt guilty about in my own approach, and when the work turned out to be good anyway it felt like absolution. Maybe you don't have to adopt the ways of someone you admire - let those guys be those guys. You can be particular and flawed and still make good work. I love that idea... it encourages me to try more.
* * * * *
Spent the morning buried in the Juxtapose photo anthology, and it's like I went to the mind masseuse!
I don't buy many photo books, especially collections. Kinda stopped doing that at some point when I started feeling dissatisfied in my own reactions. The hopes of inspiration that well up when I first thumb through their pages go unfulfilled - the frames wash right over me. It all feels undigestable: empty calories, unpleasant roughage, or a shaming of my malnourished art eye which must just not know how to process it.
But this one...
It reminds me of the year I had season tickets to the symphony. I sat and squirmed and cleared my throat and daydreamed through probably four concerts before my... my what - my itchy attention span and chatty brain would hush up so I could start *listening*. For a brief couple of hours I ditched The Part that wakes me up and gets me out of bed, washes dishes, looks at the world as a mostly harmless place for a lucky person, makes pleasant conversation - the part that refuses to get lost, for fear I lose momentum. I let it go and actually tried to listen. And I heard spectacular things.
I like the artist statements in the book. The subtleties of personality shine right through when you're forced to write such a self-conscious, horrible thing. And it helps me look beyond my own limited checklist for effectiveness of a shot. It was cool reading and actually seeing them for strengths and weaknesses as writing or intent of the pictures. You can look right through to the discomfort, or purity of interest, or the self-importance, or very rare clarity of communication, or sense of purpose, or lack thereof. Some said things I relate to and always felt guilty about in my own approach, and when the work turned out to be good anyway it felt like absolution. Maybe you don't have to adopt the ways of someone you admire - let those guys be those guys. You can be particular and flawed and still make good work. I love that idea... it encourages me to try more.