Process and Practice
Reflections on Photography and Creative Living
Lately, I’ve been reading industry textbooks like ‘The 5 C’s of Cinematography’ that have either been recommended to me, given to me, or lent to me by coworkers. This week, I went rouge and started reading a photography book that I had picked out just for fun.
I became immediately engrossed in this book because while technique is discussed on every page, it primarily concerns itself with the creative process. I first used this book to reflect on my ideas about photography, but I believe the same questions can be applied more broadly to any creative practice.
I hope this post inspires you to think about your creative processes and practices more broadly. Could all aspects of creative living relate back to our primary medium of expression?
Sunday, March 5th
Today, I answered a questionnaire that I found in a book called “Photo Work: Forty Photographers on Process and Practice.” The book is a collection of responses to the following ten questions, but I wanted to answer the questions for myself before reading the book. Here’s what I came up with:
What comes first for you: the idea for a project, or individual photographs that suggest a concept?
I try to practice both creating images and cultivating concepts on a regular basis. My process feels like a conversation between two modes. Sometimes I start with a blank slate and simply play with whatever is front of me. That can yield beautiful images, and sometimes there’s a curation process where those individual pictures can come together in an interesting way. I enjoy that process, but I don’t think of it as work. When I’m building on a concept, that’s work. It’s just a different mode of thinking, where I’m consciously trying to communicate something and therefore I seek images to tell a particular story. That can be more rewarding in a way because I’m fulfilling a vision, but it’s also more of a left-brain, logical process.
2. What are the key elements that must be present for you when you are creating a body of work? (Social commentary, strong form, personal connection, photographic reference…)
My work helps me relate to other people. Even if I’m working alone, I’m listening to someone, responding to someone. It’s all about the conversation and the relationships for me, so that’s a must-have.
3. Is the idea of a body of work important to you? How does it function in relation to making a great individual photograph?
I don’t think about creating a body of work when I’m shooting, but afterwards I spend a lot of time putting images together in different collections and figuring out if there are themes, or how the images resonate with one another. In terms of making a great individual photograph, I don’t know if I’ve ever made a great individual photograph. I think a great roll can be full of imperfect images.
4. Do you have what you might call a “photographic style”?
My photographic style is strongly influenced by documentary motion picture shooting. I like shooting on a 50mm and I don’t mind centering people in the frame, keeping things improvisational and lightweight. I try to be “in the moment” or to make pictures that feel “in the moment.” I’m not a fan of heavy post-processing or of giving people direction.
5. Where would you say your style falls on a continuum between completely intuitive and intellectually formulated?
Mostly intuitive. I feel like I’m always chasing a feeling, and the technical specs are more of an afterthought. You want to be in the right place at the right time with the right tools… for some people that means planning carefully, for me that means keeping things simple and trying to have my camera on me all the time.
6. Assuming you now shoot in what you would consider a natural voice, have you ever wished your voice was different?
All the time! I really admire hyper stylized fashion photography. Sleek. Sexy. Expensive. Who wouldn’t want to shoot like that? But I’ve always been called to stop and notice the beauty that happens to appear around me, so that’s where I spend my time.
7. How do you know when a body of work is finished?
When there’s nothing else you can let go of. It’s a process of cutting back, like pruning a shrub.
8. Have you ever had a body of work that was created in the editing process?
No, I don’t think so.
9. Do you associate your work with a particular genre of photography? If yes, how would you define that genre?
Documentary & motion picture. I would define documentary as capturing reality in a beautiful way — not necessarily aesthetically beautiful. I think shooting stills in a way that is associated with a motion picture means giving the subject more room to breath.
10. Do you ever revisit a series that has already been exhibited or published to shoot more and add to it?
Not yet
11. Do you ever revisit a series that has already been exhibited or published and reedit it?
Not yet
12. Do you create with a presentation in mind, be that a gallery show or a book?
Sometimes, but not always. I’ve done the gallery thing with painting and drawing, but I never shoot photographs with a gallery show in mind. I do think about how my photos might be presented online, how the meaning might change over time, or how the photos could go to print with a written story.
Starting to read the responses in the book, I’m humbled to have answered the same questions as such successful photographers. It’s inspiring to be exposed to the work and ideas of people who have three or four decades more experience in this medium than I do. At the same time, its encouraging to consider their breadth of different approaches and attitudes.
Monday, March 6th
Today, I went to the gym as per usual with a friend of mine. We lifted some weights, but began to lament the fading daylight. As much as we love our little routine, we decided to get creative with our workout. My friend wanted to play basketball, so we found a sporting goods store nearby and picked one up.
Ball in hand, we ventured into a local park. A couple of guys were shooting around on the nice concrete half-court with a sturdy, double-rimmed basketball hoop. I felt awkward about invading their space but my friend confidently asked if we could shoot. It turned out to be fun, sharing the court with them.
We warmed up by tossing around some free throws and 3-point line Hail Marys. Once the strangers moved on, we played 1-on-1, first to 7. I kept getting beat on layups. My height disadvantage and poor dribbling skills made me too easy to defend. I started moving away from the basket instead of towards it: I would dribble in a bit, and then step back and shoot. Like the photographers in the book I’m reading, I needed to find my own approach to the problem.
I ended up winning the match. Call it beginner’s luck. It was fun to enjoy not just a physical workout but also a creative challenge. So often, we think of competition and creation as diametrically opposite ways of thinking, but sometimes competition necessitates creativity. I’m excited to keep playing more as the days get longer.
After sunset, we returned home and finished lifting weights before dinner. I loved breaking out of the routine to take advantage of a sunny afternoon. Going into the week, I will remember to listen to the moment, and to practice flexibility.
Tuesday, March 7th
Today, I finally reloaded a roll of film that’s been haunting me for a while. I started shooting this roll in December when I was in London. I was walking down the street near Piccadilly Circus, on my way to meet a dear friend for coffee at BAFTA. I had this flash of inspiration and was shooting the fashionable footwear of passersby when suddenly the shutter jammed.
It was a Canon FTb, and my first film camera, which I cherished. I got a quote for a repair that would have cost more than I originally spent to purchase the camera body, so I left her behind (in good hands) when I flew back to Seattle. In a very kind gesture, my long distance lover lent me his Pentax ME Super so that I could continue shooting 35mm film at home.
The roll I was shooting when my camera jammed was a nice roll of Portra 400, and I made a note that it had 18 exposures. I have been thinking about what I could finish this roll out with, but nothing felt good enough. I finally just loaded it and started shooting still lifes of flowers in my kitchen. Anything, I figure, is better than not finishing it at all.
I started to consider the layers of meaning when I put fresh cut flowers next to a bouquet that had seen better days. The contrast relates to my feelings of loss I suppose. I keep thinking about this idea of moving away from the goal post in order to score, but I’m not sure what that has to do with anything yet. I think the meaning will reveal itself over time.
One big lesson I’m taking away from ‘Photo Work’ is the importance of patience. It’s an element of creativity that hardly gets talked about, because modern culture glorifies speed and hyper-productivity. Yet these photographers all seem to share a wisdom gained over a lifetime of practice. They talk about their projects spanning not just years, but decades.
It makes me wonder if I’ve ever started a significant project, or if I’m already working on one but just haven’t realized it yet.
Wednesday, March 8th
Today, I sent a lighting gear list to my director for an upcoming photoshoot. He had a few follow up questions, and wanted to know what each light would be used for. Rather than trying to explain my lighting plan, I created a quick visualization in Shot Designer and sent it to him.
I started honing my creative collaboration skills when I studied computer animation at UW. We learned to use all sorts of visualization tools, from storyboards to animatics, concept art to character T-models, in order to take ideas out of our heads and into the real world. The process of creating an animated short film taught me that visual artists need to see what we’re talking about.
Once he saw my diagram, the director understood how all the pieces of gear fit together, and we were able to discuss our options from there. I know that as a visual artist, explaining my ideas with words alone will always fall short.
When I read ‘Photo Work,’ I have to stop and research the work referenced by each photographer, otherwise their comments have no meaning. That’s the beauty of the visual arts — speaking a language that simply cannot be translated into words.
When I was at UW, I made some of my best friends studying German in Vienna. One of these friends shared a legend over wine one evening in our hostel kitchen. What she said has stuck with me for years: “When you learn another language, you develop another soul.”
That said, just because attempting to translate the untranslatable is an unadvisable work strategy doesn’t mean its entirely futile. This evening, I was listening to my friends riff on the guitar, keyboard, and percussion. I was so mesmerized by the sounds I heard filling our living room and floating down the hallway into my room, that I wanted to capture it somehow.
I love recording our music sessions with the Voice Memos app on my phone, but today I sketched out what listening to their music felt like. It captures for me the sense of counting and rhythm, the feeling of vibrations, the clarity of presence and understanding, and the awe I felt in that moment.
Thursday, March 9th
Today, I wrote a pitch, log line, and dramatic question for a novel that I would like to write. It feels strange to always have so many creative ideas on my mind, but once a seed has been planted it seems to haunt me until I give it the attention it asks for.
This week has also delivered some unexpected surprises. In the film industry, I can spend days, weeks, or perhaps a few months involved with a project before it goes into post-production. Most of the projects I work on in any capacity take many months or even years before I finally get to see the footage in an edit.
I was pleasantly surprised this week when I got to see edits of three different projects. It’s an incredibly vulnerable feeling when you click on the link to something that you made any significant creative contributions to. Will I like what I’ve done? Have I produced anything decent? It’s terrifying, but also gratifying.
None of the photographers in ‘Photo Work’ that I’ve been reading about so far have discussed their feelings of shame or embarrassment which are so deeply intertwined with producing and sharing creative work. We don’t always know that what we’re doing is right, or good, or beautiful, and yet we go on doing it. I think that’s a really important aspect of process and practice which deserves a little more attention.
If I could, I would add this question to the survey:
How do you overcome the suspicion of failure, and stay motivated to finish a body of work?
Friday, March 10th
Today was one of those great days where I got to be creative at work. I have been working in the lighting department for a couple years now, and I still feel like I have a lot to learn. Yet, as much as I appreciate each day that I spend learning from those with more experience than I have, I can’t help but feeling like I’m at my best when I’m in a creative role.
I got to fly solo as the lighting department on a corporate photoshoot, and it felt great. On my way into the building, I ran into a couple of colleagues who had helped train me over the years. It was a little intimidating, because I knew that if they saw me working, they would easily be able to identify room for improvement. At the same time, it reminded me of how much I’ve learned since my first day on set. (I worked with one of them on my very first day as a PA, back in 2019.)
Once I was on set, I quickly found a good rhythm. The best shot of the day was a tabletop setup with a charcuterie board from a top-down angle. When I first started chatting with the director about the project, I thought that a spotlight would be useful. When I started putting together a gear list, I threw a pack of gobos in just for fun.
As this particular set started coming together, I was experimenting with the gobos, shooting the light into a corner to test the effects. I was thinking of throwing a pattern against the backdrop at some point, but the director suggested raking the pattern across the table, which was a great idea. I placed the light and dialed it in, adjusting the focus of the spotlight to gently soften the edges of a window pattern.
I made sure the spotlight was daylight balanced so it would feel like crispy sunshine, while the key light had a warmer tone, like a home interior. Finally, I used a cucoloris to feather in the pattern, and give the impression of foliage outside. The shot turned out beautifully, and several people generously complimented the lighting. It felt really good to make a strong contribution to the final product.
Saturday, March 11th
Today, I shared my creativity. This post has been a difficult one for me to publish. Since the topic of photography is so close to my heart, I feel shy sharing my experiences. I’m still reading ‘Photo Work,’ and I’m sure it will continuing stirring things up. For now, I received some clarity when I read John Edmond’s words. The following quote in particular stood out to me:
“Once I feel like I have hit the ceiling with thinking, there needs to be some action. This does not necessarily mean photographing. It may mean going out to a party, an opening, a get-together of some sort. I am inspired by people, life, and conversation. This is usually where ideas are sparked and one conversation leads to another. It really happens in this electric way that shows how everything, in one shape or form, is connected.” — John Edmonds
So with that, I’m going to continue enjoying what has so far been a weekend filled with the love and joy of friendship.
