by Raghu

Free Your Mind

This is a truism we ignore at our own peril. To live a full life, the mind must be free. And to get there we must identify and cast off our mental shackles; some that the world has thrust upon us, some that we have unwittingly burdened ourselves with. Regardless, we live life to the fullest only when our minds remain unencumbered.

In the world of photography too, myths abound. They burden the photographer’s mind and stifle his creativity. The photographer seeking to create an authentic body of work, then, must begin by freeing his mind. He must take a critical look at his biases, beliefs, and opinions of the art and craft of photography, keeping in mind that they have all been shaped, not insignificantly, by the marketing pitches and loud voices of the photography world. Next, he must decide whether they help or hinder his creative output. Finally, he must discard all that do not help. Creativity flourishes when the mind is free and open. And keeping it free and open must become the photographer’s enduring habit.

 

Creativity flourishes when the mind is free and open. And keeping it free and open must become the photographer’s enduring habit.

A pernicious debate has raged on in the photography world for so long that the topic of debate has even earned its own acronym — GAS — for Gear Acquisition Syndrome. Camera manufacturers have, for a long time, grown sales by fueling this debate. Briefly, GAS is the desire to acquire better — read expensive — camera gear that will, ostensibly, make you a better photographer. But the simple truth is that the camera does not make the photographs. You do. The camera is the tool, but you are the artist. The camera sees, but you have the vision. If history is any guide, some of the most moving and evocative images were made using nothing more than simple cameras. As simple as the truth is, few are able to see it objectively. Newbies to photography, in particular, are vulnerable to GAS, and only the fortunate few escape it. A photographer who has disabused himself of the notion that expensive cameras lead to better photographs — essentially rid himself of GAS (pun intended) — has shaken off the most burdensome shackles that tie down a large segment of the photographer population.

 

But the simple truth is that the camera does not make the photographs. You do. The camera is the tool, but you are the artist. The camera sees, but you have the vision.

For some photographers technical perfection is a fixation but the reality is that technical perfection alone does not a photograph make. Certainly, the lighting, the exposure, the sharpness, etc need to be as correct as possible. Indeed, they complement aspects of the photograph such as perspective, emotion, timing, and style, which are essential. In other words, the technicals need to be right but what ultimately makes the photograph is the artistry. So, it is good to improve your craft, but to go farther, perfect your art.

The photographer would be remiss to think that his art is original, entirely his own creation. The truth is that there is no original art. All art is imitation. It may well be that a creation is entirely his, but if it has any appeal it was likely influenced by art that preceded it. The best photographers study the work of the masters, imitate their work, and evolve their unique styles through long, persistent practice. A common thread that runs through artist biographies is how much their work was influenced by the work of artists they admired. Rather than ignoring art that came before him, the photographer on a quest to evolve his own style is better served by imitating it first before breaking off on his own path.

The above are but a sampling of the limiting beliefs that weigh down the photographer’s mind. Many more exist, surely. Some run deep. Some hide in plain sight. But they all need careful scrutiny and weeding. For the photographer chasing art that last bit is mandatory.

Your creative spirit soars only when you free your mind.

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 by Raghu

A Vacation State of Mind

It’s been a couple weeks since I returned from a road trip to Portland, Oregon, with family and close friends, and what a trip it was! The breathtaking beauty of the waterfalls and vista points and the drive along the Pacific coast have put me in a vacation state of mind ever since. No, it’s not a state of throwback and hang loose, it’s one where the mind is less harried, less anxious, less restless. I feel more aware of the goings-on around me, ideas flow more freely, and interestingly, I seem to be more accepting of them, of possibilities.

On the road trip when cars on the road are few, and rolling farmlands and thick mangroves punctuate the vast sky stretching into the horizon, you automatically turn thoughtful. Your thoughts drift from the mundane to the nostalgic to the dreamy. You recall events past, the joys and the regrets, the victories and the disappointments, and you dream up plans for the years ahead. You open up. You experience insights and you get excited. That’s what road trips do to you.

 

What is my vision and how can I better express it? Do my images capture the essence of the moment? Do they tell stories?

Naturally, my thoughts drifted to photography. Between jesting with the kids and silently admiring the majesty of snow-clad mountains in the distance, I attended to photography questions and ideas and learnings that bubbled up non-stop. When did my love affair with photography begin? How can I get better at the craft? How to visualize better? I must start a personal photography project. What theme? What constraints? And what was that idea about framing I read the other day? Boy, was that a good decision to use that lens at the last photoshoot! What is my vision and how can I better express it? Do my images capture the essence of the moment? Do they tell stories? Non-stop indeed. I wondered if anybody noticed the palpable excitement my brain was whipping up.

 

 

I suspect my mind will revert to the mundane reality sooner than I would like but I believe the excitement will linger. My time on the road has helped uncover a few creative ideas to explore but at this time I also feel more open to taking risks. And while technical perfection is always a goal for the images I make, I want to focus more on their artistic merit.

It’s interesting, this vacation state of mind, and I sure hope it sticks. What’s even more interesting is that when inspiration and the creative spark elude you, you know they are only a road trip away!

 

Photo Credit: N. Roy

 

Did you see it? That white speck in the middle up top? That’s an airplane!

 

 

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 by Raghu

Why I Make Photographs

It’s a tough question: why do I make photographs? The answer is at once easy and not so easy, and over the years that I have mulled this question, the not so easy bit has not become any easier. Of one thing I am certain, however: the easy answer will remain unchanged through the rest of my life.

I love to make photographs.

That is the easy answer. It is the backdrop that frames the not so easy answer. But my attempts at coming up with the not so easy answer — the more detailed answer — have left me rather frustrated because I have been unable to articulate my love for this art form. Every attempt has felt like an exercise at stringing together a necklace by pulling out strands from a giant ball of spaghetti. Some strands break part way, some slide out effortlessly, and yet, each is an integral part of the whole that makes up the why of my love for making photographs. I hope this attempt yields a more coherent answer, so here goes.

Every time I am engaged in the activity — making photographs, editing, processing — I am transported into a different realm of experience. The word that best captures the experience: freedom. I feel, in the best sense of the word, untethered, free from worries, free to play with light and colors and knobs, free to create. I lose track of time. There is only the light, the camera, and the image I am attempting to record, in the best way I can. I am in flow.

I don’t recall at what point in time I fell in love with photography but when that revelation landed in my awareness it felt like a whole new world had opened up. Everywhere I looked there was an image waiting to be recorded. Everything was a great subject to be photographed. I started to notice things about my environment that I had never noticed before — dew drops strung like pearls on cobwebs, the dandelion by the sidewalk, the birds chirping in the branches, the squirrel scrambling down the fence. It was overwhelming, this richness of life. Beauty everywhere!

 

Every time I am engaged in the activity — making photographs, editing, processing — I am transported into a different realm of experience. The word that best captures the experience: freedom. I feel, in the best sense of the word, untethered, free from worries, free to play with light and colors and knobs, free to create. I lose track of time. There is only the light, the camera, and the image I am attempting to record, in the best way I can. I am in flow.

 

The new awareness also heightened my other senses. Since I was looking with new eyes, I became an observer, watching people socialize and watching my own interactions with others. I became aware of subtleties in gestures, glances, body language. I am better able to cue into people’s moods and I believe I have become a more empathic photographer. I am a better person for it.

If photography has taught me anything, it is that you don’t get very far unless you get out of your comfort zone. You can make authentic images only when you connect with your subjects which, for an introvert like me, is daunting. I have learned to break ice with strangers, strike up conversations, and make their images. While it never gets easy, making photographs has pushed me to get over my fears, to get out of my comfort zone.

When you come across the work of master photographers you are quickly left feeling depressed and inadequate. Their level of artistry leaves you wondering if your own work will ever hit the mark on anything significant. Eventually, however, you recover, you buckle up, and you resolve to learn from them. Studying the work of the masters has been one of the great joys for me. It has also started me on an endless journey of learning.

These are but a few of the whys of my love of making photographs and I am sure in the future my answer will include many more. But as long as the easy answer holds, the details do not matter, I guess! For now though, I just want to go make more photographs.

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