How I've Matured as an Artist

Part of what I love about being an artist is always having some exciting new project in the works. I love pushing my creative boundaries and moving endlessly forward onto bigger and newer and stranger things.

However…

Sometimes it’s also useful to pause. To take a step back from all those exciting new projects and, instead, spend some time reflecting on my past work. By applying a critical lens to my older work, I find I’m able to take stock of how far I’ve come and, at the same time, focus my intentions for where I’d like to go in the future.

It is in this spirit that I’d like to take a few moments to talk about these two images:

The shot on the left is one of the first pictures I ever took; I created that image within months of when I bought my first “real“ camera. The shot on the right is quite recent — that will be a part of my upcoming magazine project, Strange Flowers.

I wanted to focus on those two specific pictures because, superficially, they seem to depict more-or-less the same subject matter. However, I think that on closer inspection, there is an enormous difference between these two compositions.

In fact, I would go so far as to say that understanding the different between these two photographs is the key to understanding how I’ve evolved as an artist during the course of this project.

An Embarrassing Journey into the Past

Being honest, I was more than a little hesitant to share the older image, above.

There are a lot of embarrassing technical issues with that shot.

First off, this shot is way over-lighted and lacks depth of shadow. Another issue: the images is way over-edited; I got more than a little carried away with Lightroom’s “clarity“ slider. Yet another problem: the reflections and harsh highlights in the metal of the candelabrum are very distracting and ugly. And, finally: the arrangement is overly simplistic and lacks dynamic flow.

The newer image (on the right, above) improves on all that technical stuff. The lighting is more subtle and more directional; the post-processing is more tasteful; the highlights in the metal surfaces are toned down; the arrangement is more complex and uses geometry and lighting to guide the viewer’s eye.

But these issues are all technical matters.

None of this gets to the core of what’s really wrong with that early shot.

Photographing a Concept vs Photographing a Thing

The real difference between those two images – the reason I’ve matured so much as an artist in the years that passed between those photographs – is intent.

The subject of the first picture is chicken feet.

The subject of the second picture is mortality.

When I shot that first image I had only a vague understanding about what still life composition is all about. I had some vague idea that the image might make some commentary on the commodification of living creatures; however, my idea with this shot was mostly just “here’s a cool-looking thing I could make with chicken feet.“

The newer image is completely different.

There I was explicitly trying to make a connection between the dried flowers and the macabre “strange flowers“ constructed from chicken feet and cow trachea. I didn’t do this because I thought it would look cool; I did it because I wanted to make a statement about mortality and transience. I wanted to remind the viewer that the beauty of all living flesh – like the beauty of the flowers – will wither and fade.

When I shot this newer image I knew that this idea of memento mori is implicit in those old baroque still life paintings that seem so quaint by contemporary standards. I very intentionally posed my chicken feet and cow trachea in a way that would suggest flowers because I very intentionally wanted to present a more confrontational interpretation of those classic floral still life paintings.

The conceptual intent of the second image is encoded not only in my choice of props, but also in the lighting and composition. The precariously placed cups are meant as reminders that all things are unstable, that there is no certainty in life. And even the geometry of the arrangement is meant to guide the viewer’s eye from the focal point on the right, across the table, and down over the edge – it’s meant to evoke a feeling of descent into the abyss.

How I’ve Matured as an Artist

These days I try, as much as possible, to be intentional about everything I make. I no longer take pictures of things because I think they look neat. I take pictures that are intended to convey some meaning, some message. It’s no coincidence that this evolution has been accompanied by an increasing emphasis on writing. I think a lot more deeply about what I’m creating these days and, naturally, that makes it easier to write about my work, and also to produce writing to accompany my work.

Going forward, I hope to deepen this connection even further…

Stay tuned my fellow vultures!