When Does Intention Matter

All my career I’ve struggled internally with this idea that the ‘real work’ is produced through physical exhaustion on professional gear, everything else is just a snapshot, produced quickly on whatever camera is at hand. As a slow landscape photographer, I’ve never treated the latter seriously. As if the struggle to capture an image enhances its meaning. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe what matters isn’t struggle but intentionality, as long as you are open, and honest.

The quick image was not born of the iPhone and digital cameras. And, as much as my ego hates to admit it, the foundation of photography is not in art, it’s in the snapshot. The daguerreotype, ambrotype and tintype portraits of the 19th century were the beginning. It was only much later that the medium entered the lexicon of The Arts, when practitioners like Carleton Watkins and Dorothea Lange pointed their cameras at something deeper than a likeness. And when, in 1933, Ansel Adams made his trip to New York to meet Alfred Stieglitz. Stieglitz declared that the works Adams showed him were quite simply the most beautiful prints he had ever seen.

Photography is omnipresent. It is the only medium that’s continually paired with everyday functions like email, texting, social media and the phone. Unlike the tools for other forms of expression, almost everybody has access to a camera in their pocket. Photography is relatable because it is universally accessible. It lives equally as art form or family documentary, as decoration or advertisement. It can be both an artistic pursuit as well as a commercial commodity. And therein lies the struggle of photographer as artist. If you show someone a painting they’ll think: “artist.” Have them listen to a piece of music, they’ll think: “musician.” Share a bit of poetry and they’ll think: “poet.” But many people take a picture almost everyday. In other words, everyone is a photographer. So where does that leave the photographer artist? 

One time, I tried a social experiment. I grew tired of small talk, the empty questions and responses we all give each other. So I thought what if the next time someone asked me how my day was going, I responded with something more giving of myself than the mindless response of “fine.” I looked around, and the one group of strangers we interact with regularly are grocery store clerks, masters of the quick conversation. Was it possible to have a quick and intentional conversation? 

On my next trip to the store, I was asked by a clerk how my day was going. I ignored the question and instead asked about a small tattoo of ballet shoes on her wrist. Next thing we knew, we were talking about passion, and having to eat, and how dancing with eyes closed feels like flying. Now, I’m not a dancer. I know next to nothing about it. But I know passion, and I know love of craft, and I can hear it in others. Our conversation lasted not more than five minutes, but I can tell you it was meaningful. Intention gave meaning to an everyday interaction.

So back to my question, where does this leave the photographer artists? I think it’s left in that realm of intentionality and that is different for everybody. For myself, that lives in the struggle and in the purposeful photographic journeys. I need that extra layer to put myself in an artists mindset. I need it to quiet my mind and focus my eye on whatever it is I’m searching to photograph. Each must answer that question for themselves.