I find that my most interesting work is difficult or impossible to explain. I can’t describe what it means to me, much less what it should mean to you.
Concrete
It seems like people often want a concrete description or explanation of our work. Being generous, I would say they are really seeking to understand and want to know what the artist was thinking and feeling. Being less generous, I might say they are being lazy. It is easier to be told the “answer” than to try to work out an explanation for themselves.
It might be a gallery director needing an Artist Statement for the piece. Or it might be as simple as a friend asking “what is it?” Either one can occasionally put us in a difficult position.
I know the gallery director needs the statement so they can talk to customers about the piece. That is right and good. I guess it is better for me to give them something rather than have them hallucinate a story. Although I would love to hear their thoughts. Artist statements tend to be a load of bovine excrement.
Even more challenging is the simple “what is it?” question. Of course, I could tell them exactly what it actually is. But I often feel that this takes a lot away from the experience. The picture may be saying a lot more than what it is literally “of”.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
I don’t know
But behind all this is the problem that I don’t actually know what it is. I do not have words to represent concretely what I think the image is showing. And even if I had a good enough grasp of vocabulary, my thoughts are fuzzy and confused. It’s hard to describe something when you don’t understand what you think about it.
A lot of instructors tell us that every image should be pre-visualized. That is, that we know why we are taking it and we anticipate exactly how it will come out. And that works for me for a lot of images. I nearly always know (almost) exactly how an image will look on screen on my computer. Except for those happy surprises, but that is another topic.
But to me, strictly pre-planning and pre-visualizing everything takes some of the joy and creativity out of it. It becomes more documentation rather than art. I honestly do not know why I take some pictures.
Instinct
A lot of the shots I end up liking best are purely instinctive. In normal shooting, I have all kinds of subroutines running in my head, analyzing composition and framing and exposure and focus and lighting and all the other considerations in making a decent picture. But when I am shooting instinctively, they are mostly subconscious. I am not spending much conscious thought on design and technique in the moment. Things just seem to take on a life of their own.
Sometimes this can happen in a flow state, which is a joy. But not necessarily. Sometimes it is like there is a light flashing, signaling from my subconscious. Telling me “hey dummy, look! There is a great shot there!”
When I am smart enough to pay attention to that signal, I don’t spend much time on analysis. I don’t stop and describe what it is and what I am feeling. Maybe I should. But I feel like I should just be scrambling to take advantage of the gift I have been given.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Can’t hurt to try
Some great photographers do try to document their thoughts when they shoot. They tend to keep notes and even analyze their feelings and thoughts at the moment. A great example is Tony Hewitt, an amazing photographer in Australia. He not only writes down his thoughts, he sometimes even writes poems expressing what he felt while shooting!
I don’t write poems and I very seldom can force myself to take the time to analyze my feelings. I would like to. I always carry a notebook. Usually all I note is where I am, if I am in an unfamiliar location. Later, examining the images on my computer, I have to try to reconstruct my feelings.
So I encourage you to do what I say, not what I do. Try to record some of your thoughts in the field, while it is fresh. It might help to understand them better.
Get used to disappointment
When someone asks the dreaded “what does it mean” question, what do we do? Maybe we bluff and make up some nonsense about representing the existential struggle between good and evil. Maybe we be brutally literal and say it is a picture of a weathered car door. I just liked the shapes.
I would like to say, like Wesley said to Inigo in their sword fight (Princess Bride) “Get used to disappointment.” I don’t know what it means, so how can I try to tell you? Do the work yourself. Come up with your own story. It is just a valid as mine.
©Ed Schlotzhauer
Language doesn’t work
Each type of art media has they own unique strengths and weaknesses. You can’t always represent equivalent ideas with sculpture and painting.
Words and images are 2 different art forms. They cannot always say the equivalent things. I believe an image can tap into feelings, yearnings, deep beliefs, dreams, and memories that cannot adequately be written down in words. These things exist as things that pass through our minds as thoughts and feelings without being expressed in words.
Perhaps I am not doing my work justice by not spending the effort to try to unpack the “meaning” of my images. That would take a lot of time, and i know from experience that when I return to the description some time in the future, I would say no, I see something else now.
Our feelings when looking at art are based on our experience, knowledge, emotional state and perhaps health at the moment. These are moving targets.
So I do not consider it a fault when I cannot describe exactly what an image means. I could only tell you what it means to me, today. You should have the privilege of deciding for yourself what it means to you. If anything. Maybe nothing.
it could be that an image “means” nothing. It only has the value or meaning we ascribe to it personally. Too deep for now. That is a discussion for another day.
Meanwhile, let yourself be led to make images that are meaningful and significant to you. Even if you can’t describe what it precisely is you can take joy in what you feel looking at it. Not all of the world can be expressed in words.