Personal photography
A lot of photographers talk about AI like it’s the enemy. They’re furious about it: AI generates images that never existed, requires no skill, no vision, no time spent in the world observing. It’s cheating. It’s the end of photography as a legitimate practice.
They’re blaming at the wrong thing, though.
I took this photo in Paris on a November early morning. I published it in a note previously, but I thought it would be good to explain it.
For me, photography is a deeply solitary process. It’s not something I do in the company of others, nor in groups, and I don’t really talk about it with anyone directly. In an era of social media and oversharing, where every moment seems to be documented for likes and comments, this may seem counterintuitive. But for me, the act of taking photos is about introspection. It’s a personal experience. One that doesn’t require, and is often hindered by, external input.
Since I started taking photography seriously ca. 2003, the craft has become democratised beyond recognition. Every pocket contains a device capable of producing images that would have required thousands of euros of equipment twenty five years ago. But, I see the same tired shots repeated endlessly: the obligatory sunset, the artfully arranged breakfast, the mirror selfie with calculated spontaneity, the same copycat shots of the masters.
This saturation creates an interesting paradox: we’re drowning in images whilst starving for actual photography. Are we really all photographers?
Your habitual locations tend to feel boring, empty of photographic interest. Ordinary is a curse. But are they, really? Is it really what the problem is?
In photography, there’s a fascinating paradox: while equipment isn’t the essence of photography, it can serve as a powerful catalyst for creativity.
A lot of the time, the first question people ask when they see a photo they like is “what camera did you use?”, “what settings did you use?”, “what presets did you use in Lr?”. These questions are about receipes, not photography.
A while back, Josh suggested that I read a book by Austin Kleon, “Show your work“. I wasn’t convinced at first I’d be interested, but as he thought I would be, I gave it a chance and bought it. It turns out that the title and the blurbs are misleading and the book is in fact very interesting and overlaps significantly with what I write here.
One of the things Austin says is “become a documentarian of what you do”. When I read that chapter, I had the realisation that this is potentially the one thing I miss the most in the world of photography. It seems photography has lost its documentarians somewhere along the way.
We’ve all heard many photographers talk about storytelling in their photography. How many YT videos can you find on the subject? It’s become such accepted wisdom in the creative world that questioning it feels almost heretical. But when we look at it closely, it doesn’t make sense, and it’s all about how we actually experience photographs.
It seems that the majority of amateur photographers go through the same predictable journey that you can track through their gear. They begin their journey convinced that better gear will make them better photographers. Some end it knowing the opposite is true.
