Finding My Way Back to Truth
Have you ever had realizations, offered advice to others, and then done the exact opposite for yourself?
<raises hand>
I have been struggling to write this essay.
You might remember from my last post that I talked about how ideas come in from the side and work their way through my subconscious. Yeah. So. I had an idea, I wrote a draft, and then I completely changed it. I kept trying to put it into a box that wasn't of my making, and it failed. Miserably.
And that whole bit about Ms. Manly and my 15-minute stream of consciousness essays? Yeah, I ignored that too.
So an essay that tried to solve all the problems in the world is now this. It's about realizing that I do my best work when I trust myself. And if I try to employ outside resources to help me create—say, to make my photography "better", or my writing “better”—I don't get better. I get sameness. Blech.
What I meant to say is this:
I used to think photography was the art of truth.
Oh, the naïveté.
Photography felt like the art of truth when I photographed with film. Sure, I could dodge and burn in the darkroom, adjust my exposure a bit here or there. But I couldn't change what was on the negative. I didn't have mad skills in the darkroom, and that completely colored my opinion.
I'm not an early adopter. You might even say I'm pragmatic to a fault. So, when all my photo friends were lapping up digital SLRs, I was still tinkering with three hand-me-down film cameras. Because why replace what works? And I’d rather have a plane ticket to Barcelona.
Sure, there were digital point-and-shoots, but you couldn't really do anything with those photos. I mean, yes, Photoshop existed as early as 1989, but no one used it!
But a new millennium brought new toys and new software, and the digital revolution was totally a thing by 2002? Maybe a little later? All I remember is that I bought two cameras in 2004—a film camera to replace all three of my broken hand-me-downs, and a DSLR. Which I wouldn't touch for months. And then I did. And then I never put it down. So I bought Photoshop CS2.
That's my history. That’s what shapes my thoughts and opinions. And the digital revolution is partly how and why I started realizing that photography, if it ever really was, was NOT the art of truth.
I have a very clear memory of a photography workshop where the instructor showed us how to take that one cloud in the sky and add it multiple times so the sky wouldn't be boring. The result wasn't unboring—it was comedic. A patterned mess so obviously fake it made us laugh. And we learned NOT to do that.
But over the years, Photoshop got better, I got better at using it, and the next thing you know, I'm thinking: I don't have to reframe my photo to remove that trash can, I'll just remove it later in Photoshop.
That boring blue sky? No worries, there's a catalog of fabulous sunrises and sunsets and skies with puffy clouds that aren't a patterned mess. Just drop one in! Never mind that the light in my scene doesn't match the sky.
People in the background ruining your shot? Removable.
Telephone poles cutting through your bucolic country scene? Removable.
Eyes closed in that portrait? Openable.
That person in your street scene had the gall to put on a green t-shirt that morning? Now it's red.
Need a leaping dolphin in your seascape? Which version would you like—1, 2, or 3?
Well, you get the picture. (Ha! See what I did there?)
The point is, thinking photography was the art of truth was naïve on my part in the first place. But now? No way. Some edits are obvious (like sky replacements where the light doesn't match), and others are so skillful we can't tell.
Other photographers have told me I NEED to focus stack, I NEED to denoise, I NEED to do all sorts of Photoshop wizardry. Somehow, digital manipulation of pixels is firmly entrenched in our collective psyche - you know, normal. Expected.
But does it have to be?
Finding my truth again
I like truth. I'm a big fan of truth. But somewhere along the way I realized that photography - like any art - was never really about pure truth anyway. There's always the artist's eye, the artist's choices, the artist's bias. Even in documentary work, even in photojournalism.
But there was MY truth.
How I saw the scene, my lens choice, what I left in the frame, what I purposely didn't include—those were all choices that made a photo my truth, my reality.
And I realized: I want those days back.
The photos I'm most proud of these days have very little post-processing. Of course, I convert almost everything to black and white. I might adjust exposure a bit, dodge a little here, burn a little there, crop a bit. But when that's all I do, I know I GOT it. I'm not trying to force a photo into a box where it doesn't fit by spending hours in Photoshop.
So, what does that have to do with truth?
I think it means I’m shifting again.
I think it means, for me, truth in photography is rooted in reality.
I think it means I want to create authentic captures in camera, not created in software.
I think it means I’m fascinated by photographers who made amazing photographs without Photoshop and I want them to be my mentors. I’m looking at you Sarah Moon, Fan Ho, Ansel Adams, Elliot Erwitt,…
It means truth is important to me but most importantly, it has always been and always will be about my eye, my heart, and my camera.
What's your truth in photography? Any earth-shattering revelations this week?
-Denice
Yes yes yes!!!!! No sky replacement, no people removal, and in fact, no presets, no purchased backgrounds! I want my photo to be the photo I saw, I waited for, I imagined, i took! Warts and all perhaps. I'm not against small changes, but personally, I can't feel good about sky replacements or adding objects that weren't there in the first place! Rant over...
Your in-depth thoughts are so well expressed. They make me think more deeply about my own work. Thank you