Attention all artists: your old work isn’t THAT bad
Things on my blog have been a bit disorganised lately. I promised at the end of a recent post that I would have an audio interview with two photography students coming up. However, I am having much trouble preparing the file. So until I get my 200mb .aiff or .wav or whatever file it is, down to a web-friendly size, and figure out how to slap it onto my blog, I’ll have to wait.
I had the sudden urge to write this post. At the moment I am working on a secret project, part of which involves looking at other artists’ work and preparing it for a kind of, let’s say, showcase. And I am finding a similarity between several of these artists’ responses, when I suggest to them which of their images to use.
Above: ‘By the lake’ (2006), one of my earliest clone pics which I still use alot in articles, exhibs etc.
For these artists, I’m looking at all of their work, and plucking out quite a wide range that spans back to their early days of photography, to meet with their reluctant and somewhat horrified responses. ‘You want that picture? That’s so old… I wasn’t thinking about concept at all back then… I just clicked my camera, and hoped for the best… the quality of the image isn’t so good, as I shot in the lowest of the low Jpeg format…’ and so on.
Now, where quality is concerned, unfortunately there is a limit what you can do with a picture that is a grand total of 300kb. Let’s not forget, however, that quality can be rescued using tools like Genuine Fractals, and you can improve on what technology, or your budget, or your brain, didn’t do for you back then.
However, in an aesthetic sense, provided that the image is good enough quality for the purpose at hand, I find that I may be drawn to the artist’s earlier work, in some single cases, more than their recent work. Yet, they seem to think that their earlier work is somehow embarrassing, and take your suggestion as a reminder that they need to clean them off their webpage.
Do I find their response odd? Well no – because that is exactly how I feel as a photographer too, regarding my own work. If someone emails me with a query about a print, or a licensing request, and gives a link to some old crummy picture like Self-portrait in the dark or Raiding the shelf (both below) I either think they’re blind, or just a bit weird with low standards and a penchant for blobby Photoshoppery. I will follow through with their request, unless it involves publishing the image in a context (like an article or an exhibition) where I can choose another one to represent me as an artist.
My feelings are that those images were indeed wanton escapades with my camera, where I might have thought pressing ‘Raw’ would make the camera shriek like a zoo animal and that whiter-than-snow over-exposed highlights can be cured with the dodging tool in Photoshop. If I have the opportunity to use newer work, I will push for it. After all, I’ve had much more experience since then, I think more about what I shoot, I shoot in better quality, etc etc…
That is all very well, so I understand these artists’ responses. However, I want to say to these artists (and anyone else who thinks this way about their work) that your early work (at least, aesthetically, even if it’s poor pixel quality) isn’t that bad. Just because you spontaneously clicked your camera and didn’t think too much about concept does not mean that your images are meaningless and therefore worthless. Sometimes, a lack of specific intention is the best thing. It is possible to produce your best work this way.
An artist’s earlier work might be messy. It might be amateurish. For some artists though, and for some of their work, their best images are their earliest pieces, because they let their true experimental side free, without reigning their techniques in to conform to rules they have learnt from research and reading. There will be the odd piece of work they created in their experimental days that is simply unbridled genius, yet the artist will dismiss it, with a blushing recollection of its lack of pre-shooting preparation. Even the more slapdash work will have some unmistakeable flavour about it that reveals the artist’s true style before they ODed on self-scrutiny. Generally, we are supposed to get better as we go along. We are all told that practice makes perfect, and that we get better with experience, and that we are only as good as our last piece of work, etc. At times like this though, I want to question this norm, because sometimes our most recent work can be our driest, least daring, over-thought-out, concept-heavy, mundane attempts at putting everything we know into our photography.
At times like this, then, I feel that the self-taught artist, the artist who does not study art and photography, is on top. When an artist is free to do what they want, without pressure of personal expectation, commercial motivations, artist reputation, etc, they can produce their best work.
Going away from extremes for a moment (for the artists who inspired me to make this post, I am not in any way referring personally to your work), all I want to suggest is looking at your own work from the point-of-view of an outsider. Does/would an outsider know that a particular image had no forethought, no planning, wasn’t shot with professional lighting, was inferior to your current way of working in all kinds of various ways? No – or not necessarily. There is also the diversity of personal opinions, and I encourage other artists to appreciate that someone might come along and love a picture that you’ve been meaning to delete off your Flickr stream for aeons.
Of course, I need to apply this encouragement to myself, and think about how my own earlier work can be seen as more than a bored student’s attempt at escaping into a dodgily composited, imaginary world full of multiple selves (though some pictures were so bad I did admittedly remove them from my Flickr stream). I am aware that some of my long-term viewers on Flickr prefer my earlier work which is characterised by multiple selves and slightly radioactive interpretations of sunny Sussex scenes. They like it when I upload something new that has a similar vibrant colour palette to the earliest stuff, that might have spent too long in Photoshop for me to deem serious (like this one for example), with a content that, intellectually, is as deep as the baby end of a shallow pool.
We then enter that problematic area of personal taste: one artist’s direction is appealing to some, and not to others. I am equally against an artist trying to please everyone, or feeling guilty that their change of taste doesn’t appeal to all their audience segments. Without making this blog post too long, I just want to mention that personal interpretation is everything. If there is something on your Flickr stream you absolutely abhor, take it off. You are the artist, and you are the only person who has the right to decide what represents YOU.
I just want to encourage you, though, to remember what it is that you’ve always liked about photography, what made you get into it at the beginning, and to carry that passion through.
You don’t have to have a master plan to create a masterpiece. Equipment, rules, and technical know-how really are second to all-important creativity.
Posted in Essays, musings on March 4th, 2010 | 14 Comments | Tweet This!
4:21 pm on March 4th, 2010
I will also add that we might only realise the special, artistic nature of our earliest work in certain unexpected contexts. For example, recently I tried to take the original files of my early self-portrait composites, to improve on them. These images in question were ones that had alot of Photoshop compositing going on in them, and when I tried to recreate the processing I had done those years ago (believing my skills would far superior now, so it’d look ten times better) it didn’t work. It didn’t look as good as the original. I wasn’t even sure how I achieved that look!
So I realised I should leave the images as they were. There was something I couldn’t replicate – like trying to paint the same picture again – something in the moment back then that made the piece work.
5:28 pm on March 4th, 2010
All you say it’s truth
6:17 pm on March 4th, 2010
I don’t think there is any way to get around the self-conscious nature that many artists latch on to. Especially when it comes to “snobbery” of their own works. As an outsider, I know what I like when I see it. And it could be out of a wide variety of reasons. Artwork that is pleasant to see does not have singular criteria. Some pieces are even created by accident, with poor skill-sets and even by elephants. But it does take a lot of practice to observe one’s own piece with an objective eye.
As for all of the intellectual and artistic set-up, one thing I have regularly tried to impress on young architects (and especially students) is that the ONLY people that care about the underlying concept are one’s self and critics. And critics may BELIEVE they determine what is good architecture (art follows the same principle), they in fact so often completely omit necessary objective assessment.
6:23 pm on March 4th, 2010
Thank you for posting this. This was perfect timing for me. Lately I have been in a sort a slump insecurity about my work and have lost motivation. I know I am capable of much more then what my past work shows, or even what my most recent work shows. Is it because, well speaking for myself, that I critique myself so much now in hopes of “making it”, rather then in the past I did what I felt in the moment that made me happy? In a way, you could think of your past work as more loved. As you probably put more love into something that was more extra curricular rather then work that has more of a commercial, money involved aspect. I think I will be taking a step back from the ambitious “I wanna be known” mumbo jumbo, and dig deeper, awakening if you will. A clearer concious awareness. What are your thoughts on collective consciousness?
8:34 pm on March 4th, 2010
As a longtime fan of your work, I admit to being particularly fond of your earlier work. And that really has little to do with the technical quality of either the resolution of the image or the processing. It has more to do with how you saw yourself, what you were going through at the time, and how well you were able to capture the drama. The multiplicity scenes of Miss Aniela were brilliant for me, as we are all at least a little fragmented inside, and I could relate to that. For this reason, your early work will always be special to me.
9:56 pm on March 4th, 2010
Amen to that Natalie.
One thing I’ve seen a lot of is how sometimes we let some kind of “group think” into our own thinking. Someone makes a comment that says my work isn’t really photographic because I do a lot of PS’ing. At first I thought they had a point but then realised I’m not in this to satisfy someone else’s opinion of what constitutes photography. I don’t care about that discussion. I make images. And I make them with whatever tools I feel appropriate.
But other people’s opinions are always creeping around. I try to keep a sharp eye out for any ideas that come in without being fully inspected because “everyone knows” you should only use a long lens for portraits or some other nonsense.
10:37 pm on March 4th, 2010
So true. A very good post. I’m always perplexed by how much better my old ’sloppy’ work does than the few bits that I am really proud of nowadays.
But you are right, perhaps there is an energy in earlier work full of excitement that can’t always be replicated when you think too much about what you are doing.
x
12:06 am on March 5th, 2010
This is a brilliant and a very intelligent written essay. You touch base on many things here that are complicated, but the clarity in which you express and communicate your opinions, observations, and thoughts is very easy to understand. There’s quite a pleasure to take in the insight and intellectualism of this writing as I learned a lot from my reading.
It’s extremely interesting as you write in the paragraph starting: “An artist’s earlier work might be messy. It might be amateurish.” Your take on that is so right on.
There were 3 early images (“SOS”, “About time too!” and “Have they gone?”) that you created in your early career that really moved me as being highly creative. So, creative that I never saw anything like it. It had a personal feeling to it. Something that was shared by someone who was open in letting an audience into her personal life. When viewing these images I thought I was sneaking into someones diaries or journals. A lot of your earlier work had this sense of playfulness, fun, and exuberance to them.
This essay is so good that I hope it gets published sometime. You really awakened me to something … thanks for sharing.
8:29 am on March 5th, 2010
It is really weird to read such a thing and realize that all these photographers (experienced, famous or not) have exactly the same experience of how they look at their earlier work. I myself had it coming a short while ago when I needed to create a selection of my best work for a specific project.
This is something everyone experiences ones they come out on regular base with their pictures and have to deal with comments of colleagues. And it is good to see what the outside world thinks about your work, but a photographer should always be some kind of narcist and keep some stubbornness to asure the creativity touch in their work.
But, as you said, you always somehow try to please everyone. That’s just man’s nature.
I think it really makes the difference between a artist and a vendor.
We really have to get over it. A good lesson for all artists…
12:09 am on March 6th, 2010
“Once the amateur’s naive approach and humble willingness to learn fades away, the creative spirit of good photography dies with it.
Every professional should remain always in their heart an amateur.”
-Alfred Eisenstaedt
*slightly modified to eliminate gender bias*
Miss Aniela,
I’ve been following your work on flickr for a year now.
I love it and…your words.
Thank you for the constant inspiration.
Damian
2:40 pm on March 8th, 2010
HI Ms A,
Great article and I would like to chime in with some observations that I have noticed in regards to viewing art and being the artist. First I had to reduce the whole thing down to what is art? Well it is a communication that I made, there was an idea I had then I figured out how to communicate it across by whatever medium I choose photo, oil, or pencil, then the viewer interprets that communication. This is where it took me quit sometime to be able to just listen to what that viewer saw and then they responded back. I always wanted to jump in and say oh no this is what I really meant or here is the idea blab, blab, blab after all what did I do presented an idea for someone to view then they participate however that happens. This is where support of the artist comes from allowing that viewer to participate with what we do.
Love DennyCayman
2:14 am on March 9th, 2010
Although it’s easy to criticize images based on the sharpness, resolution, lighting etc, the thing that makes them memorable – or not – is concept and composition.
Some of the greatest photos are blurred black and whites, but if they depicted the moment perfectly at the time, the “imperfections” don’t matter.
Your best work, in my opinion, is generally the “studenty” experimental stuff. As soon as you are working to someone else’s brief or with another model, all originality (and passion) is lost. I doubt anyone could do “cover versions” of your greatest hits (with paid models) and strike quite the same chord.
3:10 pm on March 11th, 2010
Very good article.
I think this is kind of true for a lot of artists. I’ve definetly noticed it in music.
The early albums by certain bands, whilst learning their craft are full of little happy accidents. The later material, although technically better, loses something and isn’t quite as compelling.
As an artist, I’m sure they are happy with their ability. As a listener, it was the naivety that gave the interesting music.
I don’t want things to be technically perfect, but I do strive for things being athesitically pleasing. I like happy accidents.
10:55 am on March 20th, 2010
I’m thinking like you, the chance, improbable thinks can make a good photo. An intimate moment, a street moment, etc.
I saw yersterday an exhibition (Lausanne) of the work of Sally Mann. Yes, she has the technic but she also work with the uncertainty that his photo is good. In a lot of her photos we can see a lot of imperfections but for me is all that is the strength of the image.