Some amateurs don't realize what they're really doing
Elsewhere I wrote about having photographic goals. Thing is, a lot of photographers also have goals they aren't aware of.
A long time ago I noticed something interesting about my workshops: students took better pictures in Capitol Reef National Park and Escalante-Grand Staircase than they did in Arches National Park and Bryce National Park. I don't mean technically better; I mean aesthetically better, and unique. The pictures I saw at the workshop wrap-ups at Capitol Reef and Escalante-Grand Staircase were simply more evocative, had more individual feel, and were more interesting then the ones taken at workshops at the big name parks. This has been consistent now for two decade's worth of teaching.
It took me a couple of years to figure out why that was, but it turns out to be one of those hidden dangers of photography (and art in general, actually): unintentional copycating.
First, there's the problem of attraction. You go to Yellowstone National Park because of Old Faithful, other thermal features, and the wildlife. You know those things are there because you've seen thousands of photos of them. You go to Bryce National Park for the Hoodoos, and you even time your visit so that there's a possibility of first snow. Why? Because you've seen those images. Tetons? Think Schwabacher Landing and the old farmhouse, not to mention the Snake River Overlook Ansel Adams made so famous, or the view of Mt. Moran at Oxbow Crossing. You go to Yosemite (Valley) because you've seen great pictures of Half Dome, Bridalviel Falls, Yosemite Falls, El Capitan, and a host of other features.
I could go on, but I think you get my point: you're there for the "biggies." Indeed, in Africa we even speak of the Big Three (Elephants, Cats, and Rhinos). The unstated (and sometimes unrecognized) goal of many photographers is simply to "bag the Biggies." (By contrast, the first time I went to Southern Africa I came back with dozens of reptile photos I still love and almost none of the Big Three that I even like.)
So my question for all of you headed off to any well-known nature photography locale is this: are you going there to collect the photo you've seen someone else make, because you just want to see the place where the photo was taken, to attempt to out-photograph Art Wolfe or Jack Dykinga or George Lepp, or are you going for some other reason?
I hope it's the last of those, and I hope the answer is "because I know there are other photos there that no one else has seen or captured." Because the alternatives aren't so great, are they? To wit:
- Collect the photo. You've seen the pro's photo, so you want to put your tripod legs in the same spot and collect the same image. Really? Why not save some money (travel ain't cheap) and just purchase a print from the person who made the famous picture in the first place? Even at a US$1000 per print it takes a lot of prints to make an income off photography. Not many folk are managing to do that, so why not help the pros that took the great images instead of trying (and likely failing) to copy them?
- See if you're up to the challenge. Well, one answer to the question I just posed is this: "If I can take a photo as good as a pro took at that place then I must have mastered photography." Really? Exposure and the technical side are the easy parts of photography (the craft), and by copying a known image in a known locale, you're essentially cheating at the composition part (the art), which is the difficult piece of the puzzle! I suppose some might say that it's a bit like painting a copy of the Mona Lisa: by doing so you learn the strokes and color choices and other craft decisions that went into making the original. But I'm not sure you are, actually, as you won't be bringing that view camera that Ansel Adams used nor are you likely to be spot metering, writing down the Zones, and then developing and printing your material to match that, either. Unless you're doing exactly what the original artist did, you're not really examining and mastering the same decisions he or she originally made.
- Just see the place. Well, that's okay, but this is a photography site and you did bring your camera with you to that place, didn't you? And when you get to the Snake River Overlook you're going to look through the viewfinder thinking that you'll see what Ansel Adams saw, right? My feeling is that if you're going because of the place, you should probably just enjoy the place and not ruin your trip by trying to take a great photograph ;~). It may surprise you to know that sometimes I just enjoy being in the place and don't bother taking pictures, even though I know they're all around me. Part of eventually being able to make a photo that evokes the feel of a place is to have actually felt it in the first place. (By the way, you can't get the image Ansel got at Snake River Overlook. Why? Because the trees have grown over, the river course is slightly different, and thus you can't perfectly duplicate Ansel's photo.)
- Outdo the pros. Perhaps if Old Faithful suddenly rises to twice its normal height, the elk climbs out on top of the arch, or you get the Perfect Storm looming over Half Dome then you've got a chance at getting a unique image that will hold up against others taken at that location. It's still going to be difficult to top what's come before you, though, at least at the places we're talking about. That's because there have been hundreds of photographers a day at those places since they were first revealed (sometimes hundreds an hour). Heck, there are books that have sold in the tens of thousands of copies telling you how to get to the exact spot where magic can be made! The odds that you'll be the one to outdo the most memorable pro image made there are low. Even lower when you realize that the pro in question likely came back to that spot many, many times trying to find the right moment as well as place.
The last time I took a workshop into Yosemite Valley I actually did what the students thought at the time was a very mean thing: I didn't let them photograph the classics. Instead, we spent most of our day heads down under the forest canopy and around small water features, most of which don't have names. And you know what? When all was said and done, the pictures the students managed there were all far better than any they could have captured that day at the big rocks or tall waterfalls that are scattered around the valley (plus the skies weren't cooperating for the big scenics that day).
Indeed, several of the students' photos were professional quality and publishable as is. But at the start of the drive into the valley we had a fight over not going to Half Dome or any of the other classic spots. (Note to future students: you won't win a destination fight if I'm driving ;-) They were no longer complaining after they took their pictures, though. To a student, they were glad I forced them to look elsewhere. And they now have Yosemite images you don't have. Try to collect those!
Which brings me back to the well-known Utah parks. Bryce, Zion, Arches, and Canyonlands have classic published images of most of their key features. I don't even have to show you the images as you can cite them off the top of your head (in order: snow on hoodoos from Sunrise Point, the Narrows in fall, Delicate Arch at sunset with snow on the Lasals behind them, and the golden light underneath Mesa Arch at dawn). Okay, now name the classic photos taken at Capitol Reef or Escalante-Grand Staircase. Can't do it, can you? So how would you know where to go?
Well, that's my point. Go explore and find something that speaks to you, not to the millions of people that have already seen it. Get off the path that everyone takes because it was listed in Laurent's books, the Photograph America newsletter, or an issue of Outdoor Photographer.
For example, in Capitol Reef I found a small, isolated place where almost no one ever goes. This spot is perfect for a small workshop like the ones I like to teach. By small place, I mean the area in which we photograph in is no bigger than a normal garage (though far taller). I've taken many groups of students into that little dead-end pocket, and you know what? I'm constantly blown away by the variety of publishable pictures that come out of that one little spot. Yes, I did my scouting well; while small, there is an enormous inventory of interesting things in that small space, and I realized that the moment I saw it the first time. Yet last time I went my four students managed to find several things I hadn't seen there before. None of my students have any preconceived notion when I push them past the entrance to this place. They've never seen any published images from there (or just about anywhere else in the park), and their minds are open and devouring everything they see. Patterns emerge. Relationships emerge. Striking features get found. And great photos get made.
So I reiterate: what's your photographic goal? I think it should include the aspiration to something more than copying others (intentionally or unintentionally). If all you take is a photograph that is "just like" something we've all seen before, all we know is that you've been there. Sending me a post card would be more effective, actually. But if you take a photograph that is clearly yours and uniquely captures what you felt while visiting the special place you found, then you've achieved an important milestone and goal.
Funny thing is, when you look for that, you find it. Recently at Arches I figured out a way to photograph Delicate Arch in a way that evokes my experience and as far as I can tell, hadn't been done before. I've got to go back to do the photograph, though, as the right other things weren't happening that are needed in the image (think sky). Moreover, I have to do it at a time when the place isn't packed with photographers, otherwise I'm likely to only see copies of what I do before I even have a chance to get home and process it. So I have a one-photo goal. It might take me a few years to capture it, but the goal is set. Now I only need to reach it.
Here's something to ask yourself if you've been to any of the classic American parks (or International spots, for that matter): do you have a picture from there that excels yet doesn't mimic an image someone else already took? If not, you're likely unintentionally copying others rather than taking your own photos.
So I'm going to give you some homework: do like I do when you're in those well-known places and look for images that will solely be yours, because you saw (felt) them first. They are there. I know they are. I spend much of my year teaching others how to find their own images, and they usually do. But you have to look for them. So far, no great unique images have snuck up behind me and tapped me on the shoulder asking to be taken.