On Apr 12, 2012, at 2:25 PM, Ken Norton wrote:
>> Of course this is the classic definition of "hack."
>
>
> Says the man with the gallery.
Indeed, and so we come to the headwaters of Bob's personal struggle with
photography. For years now I have endeavored to take images that would appeal
to tourists in such a way as to cause them to reach for wallets and credit
cards. I have been modestly successful at this, but have always considered
myself something of a hack because I was doing it for money, not because I had
something to say--other than "I can take really pretty pictures that people
will pay for."
This year I find it difficult to pick up the camera and hit the bricks, cliffs
and beaches for more of the same. True, some of that can be laid at the feet of
a couple of medical issues of my own, which were resolved successfully, and the
brain-decoupling experience of standing at Ben's bedside for so long not
knowing whether he was going to live or die. But regardless of the cause, the
fact remains that I am seriously reluctant to sally forth down the road already
traveled while not having determined whether there is another path, or whether
this photography thing has run its course.
I don't _think_ it has run its course. I think I'm still looking for a little
something else, another direction. I hesitate to say that I'm looking for a
more artistic approach because I think that would be hackhood once removed.
Last night as I gnawed this particular bone while trying to go to sleep, I
thought about that image I posted on Facebook a week or so ago, the rather dark
image of Pemaquid River. I happen to like that image a lot, although it is in
no way representational of the scene as presented through the viewfinder of my
E-1. Rather, it is an interpretation of that scene--and a dramatic departure
from reality (in some ways, every image is an interpretation, right?). But it
did come up from some deeper spot that guided me as I worked without my being
able to see exactly which hands were on the controls, or even where the
controls were.
So did I, as sleep began to take me, stumble onto something? Is there a place
for interpretation here that is not aimed specifically at separating tourists
from their money, but rather making work accessible through the gallery so that
they can run screaming or purchase as their hearts and heads dictate? I really
don't know. All I know is that I'm not interested in taking more pictures of
lobster boats motoring our of New Harbor, or of Pemaquid Point Light, at least
not in the customary ways.
This is getting muddier and muddier, so I think I'll stop myself short of
embarrassment. Suffice it to say that the train has run off the track and is
crashing through the bushes looking for that other track. The secret being, of
course, that one does not find that other track while actively involved in
looking for it. One finds the track after one _stops_ looking for it and just
accepts what the muses--or fates--offer up from the universal pool.
I have a headache.
--Bob
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