It’s hard, sometimes, to be a writer within the boundaries of others, to know things that are not secrets yet cannot be told, to be the guardian of truths that cannot be spoken. The weight of the night seems to magnify the burden and sleep will not be my salvation this time around. Let me share but hints of what occupies my mind and keeps me gazing at the stars.
That the greatest conquest is the conquest of fear.
That the greatest courage is the courage to start over.
That the greatest virtue is to care deeply.
That the greatest ignorance is ignorance of beauty.
That the greatest sin is indifference.
That the greatest reward for a life well lived is the knowledge that it meant something.
~
Time for a nocturnal drive. There’s got to be something out there.
“When I have a terrible need of – shall I say the word – religion, then I go out and paint the stars.” –Vincent Van Gogh
The Meaning of Meaning
When I started photographing in earnest a couple of decades ago (hard to fathom,) inspiration seemed boundless. Everything was new, unphotographed, and possessing secrets and opportunities for images to capture and to share. It was as though I was making my own inspiration, oblivious to the works of other photographers, which were largely not available to me then.
I’m sure many can relate, but once the creative fire was lit and became as much an obsessive need as a pursuit, I became thirsty for inspiration. In those days there was little to be found on the Internet and my primary sources for appreciating and learning from the works of others were galleries and books. I can still remember the thrill of opening a new glossy books rich in excellent photography, the scent of the pages, the intrigue with both the images and trying to read the photographer’s mind – what they thought and felt, what equipment they used; and at the time – what the chances were that I’ll get to see these places for myself…
One of those books was Neill’s “Landscapes of the Spirit” and, as fate and a lot of hard work would have it, I did manage to not only visit these places but also to make a life for myself among them and to experience them in ways I never knew possible.
I always find creative work more meaningful knowing a little about the person behind them. When I first encountered Neill’s work, he was an opaque “big name” to me. In recent years I came to appreciate both his hard work photographing and writing about the landscape, and his generosity and responsiveness as a person.
My reason for recommending Bill’s work is not only for its beauty, but also because he deserves it. Call it my small way of thanking him for the inspiration in those early years and since. His most recent eBook: “William Neill’s Yosemite: Volume One” continues his legacy of excellence and inspiration. Load it to your computer, set aside a quiet evening, and page through it in a dark room.
Inspiration: William Neill’s Yosemite Volume OneTags: fine art, landscape, national parl, nature, photography, William Neill, yosemite
This is the first in a short series of articles prompted by recent interesting email exchanges. Over the past few weeks, several people contacted me for advice on various topics and I felt that some of the discussion may be of interest to a wider audience.
~~~
A talented young photographer recently asked me about ways to promote and market their work and particularly about the value of entering competitions. I think two of my answers were not quite what they expected: that I myself am no marketing guru and rely largely on word of mouth to sell my work (best kind of publicity but also the hardest and slowest to establish,) and that I myself have only ever entered one formal competition and immediately regretted having done so.
Let me start by pointing out the sad state of photo competitions these days: the vast majority of them require entrants to give up some degree of legal rights to the submitted work, whether they win or not. This shameful practice, referred to as a “rights grab”, is almost par for the course for all but very few well respected competitions. While it is reasonable to ask for the rights to publish winning entries in contexts relevant to the competition (e.g. on the sponsors’ web site, in related promotional material, a winner showcase etc.) and as a precondition for winning prizes, it is NOT reasonable to ask the photographer to give up rights in perpetuity, for any use, without limit, by simply submitting their work for consideration. My advice to anyone planning to participate in any competition is to always read the terms and fine print with an eye towards rights grab language and if it is there, paraphrasing on the Nike adage: just DON’T do it!
This leaves just a handful of competitions worth entering and indeed some of them do have the power to launch careers, to make household names, and to market work to prestigious buyers. Still, I personally don’t do it. Why, you ask? Well, let me jump on this here soapbox…
In my mind the very concept of art is inherently incompatible with competition. Art represents the sensibilities of the artist, their personal taste, their connection with the subject, and as the case may be: their genius. There is never a guarantee that these will resonate with the public, or with a small group of judges from varying backgrounds and with their own sensibilities which may be wholly different from those of the artist. In other words: winning or losing by the judgment of others is meaningless when it comes to the inherent value of art. Indeed much of what we today consider great art was unpopular and unappreciated in its day and may well have died on the vine had the artist paid any heed to popular opinion, let alone the subjective opinions of a few.
Certainly there are those who thrive on the very concept of competition and see value in attaining a winning position, irrespective of anything else. I just don’t happen to be one of these people.
Some common myths regarding art and competition:
Competitions will NOT tell you how you measure up to others. Competitions are won on the opinions and preferences of a handful of people. At most you can hope to know how you measure up in their individual minds, for what it’s worth. Also ask yourself who it is you really want to measure up to (if anyone!) and the chances of them having entered the same contest.
Competitions will NOT help you define your personal style. By definition, the purpose of the contest is to have your work judged by others who very likely have no idea about who you are, where your art comes from, or why you personally find it meaningful.
Competitions will NOT provide you with objective advice or ideas for improving your work. If anything, it will either tell you how to make your work more compatible with the fashion of the time, or you’ll end up hearing tired old adages that are of questionable value to a true artist/individualist.
So, if you’re the competitive type – by all means enter your work into those few contests that may truly benefit your resume. Otherwise, take a back seat and enjoy the show. I take great pleasure in reviewing competition entries and judging them for myself. More often than not, my own favorites are not the ones that end up being picked by the judges. And that’s OK.
As it pertains to my own work, I made the decision to forfeit the chance for an “award winning” designation in favor of eliminating the temptation to alter my work in order to appease any particular judge.
~~~
In the next installment of “Non-Traditional Answers” I’ll review my thoughts on print pricing and limiting editions. Stay tuned.
Non-Traditional Answers Part I: CompetitionsTags: competition, contest, fine art, guy tal, landscape, photography, rights
Three new images are now available for ordering. See our most Recent Additions.
Tags: guy tal, landscape, nature, new images, photography
Journal entry, 7/31/2010
It started like any other summer Friday in Torrey. Right around 5pm, a peaceful silence falls over the town and the work week is almost palpably over. Despite the sparse traffic, I like to stay at the gallery a bit farther into the evening, not so much for the sales potential but because these are often the times when lone travelers wander into town in search of a place to spend the night. When it’s just me and one curious visitor in the store, and all is quiet and glowing in the late afternoon light, conversations tend to form and evolve in fascinating patterns.
After closing up I headed home, remembering the local music show scheduled for the evening and fighting the urge to spend a quiet evening on my own. I knew most of the people playing, though I have not actually seen some of them perform. What the hell, I was already dressed up.
A monsoon thunderstorm started brewing earlier in the day and seemed to linger more than usual, with the occasional flash over the Aquarius Plateau, followed by a distant rumble. It was a perfect warm afternoon, bathed in golden light as the sun was setting. The musicians tuned their instruments against a backdrop of majestic cliffs, green aspens and conifers on the distant flanks of Boulder Mountain, and the unfolding storm beyond, all bright and vivid in the warm light. On the large lawn, a small crowd of familiar faces engaged in friendly chat. Life here is not easy for many, but right here, right now, there was an overpowering air of joy and contentment as if the moment is all that mattered and all else can wait for another time – a state of mind I have come to greatly appreciate about this place.
As soon as the first guitar notes launched off the stage and into this perfect evening, I knew the reason I was here. One by one people I knew, some for years, transformed before my eyes. They were no longer farmers, cowboys, builders, teachers, or retirees; they were giants. For those few moments on stage they poured their hearts into the instruments and microphones, consumed by their passion, love, and angst, and consuming everyone else within earshot right along. It was a glimpse into the blazing turbulent core of their humanity, independent of anything else they happen to do in their daily lives. You never know the soul people harbor, even ones close to you, until you get the chance to see them in their element, telling their stories, greater than life.
The storm kept firing bolts of lightning in the background throughout the evening but spared us the precipitation until the very last moments of the show. By 11pm only a handful of people remained to hear the last notes fade and help clean up the stage as the first drops of rain finally hit.
I walked home along the avenue of old cottonwoods in the quiet drizzle. I knew I was too saturated to get any sleep. I still tried. The lightning was closer now, illuminating the room every few seconds. Sleep was a lost cause. I had to go experience the magic up close. I quickly got dressed and headed up the dark road to Boulder Mountain. A movement caught my eye just beyond the reach of the headlights and I slowed down in time to avoid a skunk dragging something off the pavement. Another half mile and a strange jumble of iridescent dots turned out to be the reflections from the eyes of four raccoon cubs playing in the brush by the side of the road. A large owl floated silently from the top of a nearby aspen. The world was alive in a way most people never know.
It was around 1am when I finally arrived at the viewpoint. I stood there in total darkness for a few minutes, breathing the scent of the recent rain and thinking about the music and the amazing people behind it. Though I could only see it in the brief flashes of lightning, the canyon country stretched far below me: Capitol Reef, the Waterpocket Fold, the Circle Cliffs, the Blue Hills, and beyond them the commanding peaks of the Henry Mountains. I set up the camera in the dark, opened the shutter and waited. Within fifteen minutes or so, I was able to record three impressive strikes.
I kept driving, hoping to find another good view but the storm was already fading. I turned around and headed home. 3am found me in my living room, sipping tequila and listening to the quiet snoring of my dogs, knowing that one day in the future I will come back to the memory of this night and want to remember it in every last vivid detail.
A couple of the performances were recorded by Torrey’s mayor, Adus Dorsey, for those interested:
It was a Warm and Stormy NightTags: Boulder Mountain, colorado plateau, guy tal, Journal, lightning, monsoon, thunderstorm, Torrey, Torrey Music Festival
It’s quiet in my living room right now. An afternoon thunderstorm is brewing, as they do this time of year, and the sky had darkened. The cottonwoods in the yard are swaying in the warm wind, scattered raindrops dot the windows, and the only discernible sound is my dog’s quiet breath as she sleeps at the foot of the couch. This is the first time in days that I can hear no man-made sound.
Beyond other things I love about living in a small rural town, it was this silence that struck me first after a long trip back through crowded airports and hours on cramped airplanes.
The air is rich with the scent of wet earth now, and through the window the red cliffs are beckoning just a short distance away. I may go for a quick drive later. I doubt I’ll see another human out there.
Such are the gifts of this life, and their undeniable effect on the soul. Frustrations, bitterness, cynicism, and anger seem to melt away in such moments and placed in proper perspective. Of the infinite stream of events that make a lifetime, these are the instances that quietly sear themselves in the mind as the most meaningful; the ones we later wish we could go back to.
It seems sometimes as though one’s persona is transformed in relation to number of people within close proximity. While there is little doubt our technology and dominance as a species are owed to our ability to function and collaborate in social units, such interactions tend to bring about those traits most beneficial to survival rather than the ones that set apart and reward the individual. The more crowded the place, the angrier, more cynical, and more violent its culture seems to become. And, after a while, the preoccupation with such matters crowds out the spiritual, the poetic, and the artistic that are in each of us, sometimes forgotten. It takes moments of quiet, solitude, and beauty to be reminded of those things that make life worth living. As social as we are, our most profound emotions are experienced in scarce company.
It is dangerously easy to give up most anything in exchange for comfort, security, and an effortless existence. It is easy to suppress our amazing ability for thought, emotion, knowledge, intuition, and creativity for the ease of pre-packaged ready-to-consume ideas, entertainment, and lifestyle templates. It is easy to have others experience adventure, discovery, and achievement on our behalf and to live vicariously through them, believing that we ourselves are not cut out for the task, or to assume that at some undetermined point in the future we’ll get around to doing something meaningful, after we’ve taken care of some trivial matters. These are also the most dangerous of traps to fall into.
If you’ve ever wondered what it feels like to stand on top of a mountain, go find a mountain now. If you ever wished to know more about this or that or the other, kick your TV and go learn about it now. If you ever wanted to see an epic sunrise, go set your alarm now. And, if you want a life other than the one you’re living today, make a plan now.
Right now I crave the smell of wet sagebrush and the thrill of spotting lightning on the horizon. Turning the computer off… now.
It’s good to be home.
Tags: guy tal, outdoors, photography, solitude, wilderness
I am pleased to announce the addition of twenty four new images to my online collection. A selection of these images will be available as prints at the gallery starting this weekend.
Tags: fine art, gallery, guy tal, landscape, nature, photography, utah
“If there is magic in this world, it is contained in water.” –Loren Eiseley
Things continue to be busy but I did manage a couple of quick outings recently. Stay tuned for more writings and images on these pages in the next couple of weeks.
Early Summer MagicTags: fine art, guy tal, landscape, nature, photography, utah, water
My earlier post, The Art of Copying, generated some eloquent and thought-provoking comments both on the site and via email. Though I could not respond individually to each post, I did want to offer my sincere and heartfelt thanks to those who took the time to consider and comment, whether they agreed with my position or not. As much as the comments themselves, I also appreciated learning that other photographers are as passionate in articulating their deeper thoughts and philosophies on the essence of what we do and why we do it.
I did want to offer a small clarification regarding the context for the post. I was explicitly referring to situations in which a photographer will knowingly and deliberately set out to copy another’s work and claim it as their own, for praise or profit.
As I responded to one person via email, not one of us can claim they are not standing on the shoulders of giants. We all learn and improve by adopting ideas, concepts, and techniques we find interesting in the work of others. Still, there is a moral distinction between such adaptive learning, and outright deliberate copying with the intent of laying claim to the resulting accolades.
While exchanging comments, references to music and to attribution were brought up. Those who have not read the complete thread may be interested in two other related posts: Things Photographers Can Learn from Musicians, and The First Step Towards Personal Style.
I would also like to acknowledge that my own thinking on the subject had evolved over time, and I can see the confusion my new position may have caused (as highlighted by Floris’ comment).
Lastly, I would like to draw your attention to a recent article by Charlie Borland, a man whose work I deeply respect and who offers a professional’s perspective on the topic. Charlie’s site, Pro Nature Photographer, is a wonderful resource to anyone who shares a passion for nature and photography and aims to pursue them professionally.
Tags: borland, charlie, copying, guy tal, landscape, nature, photographer, photography, pro
My article “The ABCs of Composition” is featured in the June, 2010 edition of PopPhoto Magazine.
ABCs of Composition
Tags: article, composition, guy tal, landscape, nature, photography, popphoto, popular photography
