I stood in the aisle of the store, shelves lined with shoes that towered over my head. Emotionless fluorescent bulbs cast a wan wash over the endless aisles of items for sale. My mother held out a pair of shoes for me to try on, my sister standing at her side. I refused to slip on the primary-colored velcro sneakers, with numbers 1-2-3 and letters A-B-C gracing the sides of the footwear. They both proceeded to convince me these were good shoes and that I should wear them. Their arguments were in vain, and I began to get angry and frustrated, blubbering that those shoes were for babies. I would not be caught wearing them to school.
I was six years old.
How did I already have a fear of what people thought of me? When had I learned to be self-conscious?
With time, that fear of others only grew, as experience reinforced that people can be mean and cruel. I have been fighting that fear my entire life. I still fight it, right here, right now. I have written and rewritten the title of this post several times now, worrying that others might think it’s some crazy existential entry about life and that I’ve gone off the deep end. I finally decided to leave it as I want it to be.
But what does this have to do with photography?
Everything.
OK, not everything, but it certainly affects the foundation of good photography. Real photography still requires two things be present to make a photo: you and your subject. Your subject is only half of the picture. You, the photographer, are the other half. What you bring to the table is often far more significant to the outcome of the photo than the subject you are photographing. If you are not being genuine, if you are afraid to let yourself be revealed in the photo, your work will be meaningless–both to you and your subjects.
Too much of my own work, I know, is meaningless. All too often I take photos of what people think I should take photos of in a manner that is “normal” and “expected.” I am afraid people will wonder what on earth I am doing crawling around on the floor taking a photo of some seemingly insignificant thing when I should be taking a photo of a formulaic moment that in reality has no meaning.
Fear kills creativity. It puts you in a box that only you can let yourself out of.
Photos should help us touch the intangible and see the invisible. They should capture moments, feelings, thoughts, desires, hopes, and yes, fears. They should reveal the good, the bad, and the ugly–not just the expected and normal. This is true for wedding photography, too. Weddings are indeed wonderful, joyous occasions filled with incredibly happy moments. But they are also filled with sad, silly, frustrating, stressful and yes, ugly moments. Just because those moments are different than what we envision weddings to be doesn’t mean they are any less a part of the story. Without the stressful and difficult moments in life, our joyous ones wouldn’t be nearly as indelible as they are.
So I want to let go of my fears. I want to climb out of the box I’ve put myself into and start making more meaningful images for my couples. Don’t get me wrong, I love the stories and moments I’ve captured for my couples this year, and I know they will cherish their photos for years to come. But I also know, deep down, I can do better.
What will that look like? I’m not completely sure right now, but I know it will require me to get out of my comfort zone and to ignore my fears. It will mean I may capture moments that aren’t expected, while ignoring the ones that are contrived. It will mean taking time to find out what is important, and what isn’t.
Here is one photo of a story I failed to follow through with on a wedding day. It was in the hair salon, and while I saw the uniqueness of what was going on, I was afraid of what people would think if I shot this instead of what everyone else expected me to shoot at the moment (ie, same exact shots of people getting their hair done). So I timidly took this photo and just kept it for myself, never including it in the final cut. Shame on me. It’s a great moment, and I didn’t do it justice.
by mary
Nancy Schwarz - Now I hope you will send the beautiful picture of the lady and the dog to the couple. Who knows what it might mean to them at this point? I read both frustration and earnest determination to get out of the “what-will-they-think-of-me” box. Personally, I think you have a wonderful eye to see the invisible and that you have already portrayed many inconspicuous stories through your photography. You just keep getting better and better.
Katia Forero - Mary!Thank you so much for this post!I am sure that other photographers can relate to this feeling. I know I can because FEAR is what keeps me from doing better sometimes (what would people think?, would they ask me to leave them alone?, am I taking too many pictures?) these are some of the questions that run through my mind when trying to capture moments. I will certainly remember this post for saturday as a way to challenge myself. Thank you so much for the encouragement!