Some thoughts on motivation

What motivates you?
What drives you forward, wills you to improve? What keeps you going through the hard times, through the rejections and the failures? Is the the eventual rewards of success or the journey?
I have been thinking of this a lot lately. My motivation has been waning of late and I have been trying to figure out why. Why have I been feeling like it is all fickle and ephemeral. I have had my share of success as well as my share of failure (whatever you consider that to be) and definitely rejection.
The images I see gaining commercial and artistic success in the main I do not empathise with. I no longer understand what I consider to be good imagery.
I see projects on twins, ginger people, awkward teenagers all seemingly miserable and vacant, and I have to ask why, whats the point? I see happy couples in flared light drinking designer coffee, I am left numb. And I am as guilty as the next person.
Its as if ambiguity itself has a value in imagery - to say nothing is to say all you need. I see so many images that say nothing at all about their subject winning awards and adulation, is it just me that doesn’t get it? am I missing the something? Or are people hiding behind a veil of enigmatic bullshit because they have nothing of real value to say?
Recently I visited Paraguay with a charity that I volunteer for, we were there to deliver shelter for people displaced by flooding. During my time there I photographed the people I met, I had no agenda other than to point the camera and take a picture of them as they were - often only one or two frames. The people we met had lost everything (the little they had) They made their living from picking up rubbish in the city and selling it for recycling. Yet the pictures I got came back showing their defiance and strength, if anyone should look vacant and miserable it was them (or so it would seem in our western view of value) Not to say that these images have more or less value than any others, but it interested me that they were not what I expected to get when I left. The pictures are not by me - I simply pointed a camera in the direction of a person, the pictures are by the people themselves, and the narrative is not what was expected from a simplistic view of their situation, the lesson: a portrait is not, or should not be about the photographer or an idea of the person, but should be by the person themselves and physical motivation is inherently linked with theoretical motivation, you have to believe in what you are doing or it will have a short shelf life. Fuck these self indulgent vacant images of people who have more than they could ever want, if they say anything at all, it is to incriminate our hedonistic age of entitlement. Motivate yourself to document something real, something that adds value to yourself your subject and the world.
My lack of motivation it turns out is with our hypocritical and indulgent value of images, or at least with my view and interaction with them. I have been focused on success as a measure of work gained commercially and recognition from people for whom I have little empathy. Everyone finds value and motivation in different places and there is no right or wrong way - only that which sustains you.
There are image makers out there doing wonderful work, recently I discovered the work of Jim Motram, just one of many photographers producing work with consequence, exploring their subjects and displaying the socially conscious results in an engaging and honest appraisal of the subjects. His motivation is abundant and seems to be authentic, funded by donations, the commercial value at zero (even proceeds from a recent exhibition went to charities associated with the project) the value of the imagery increases in its pursuit of honest communication.
I am humbled by image makers that take a selfless view of the world, and are motivated simply by the art of communication and observation.
I have been focused for so long on motivating myself for commercial success that I have lost something along the way, it turns out that my motivation has not gone. I was just looking in the wrong place.

| LA |

Some thoughts on photojournalism

Before I start on this I would just like to say that these are just thoughts and opinions based on spur observations, people are complicated, and the world and the way it works even more so. I would never profess to assume anyone's intentions or to purposely be antagonistic, but there are some observations recently that have got me thinking about how we use imagery to tell a story and the ethics involved with this responsibility.
There is no doubt that imagery has massively informed modern communication and the subject of its value as a means of information delivery is far too vast to be discussed in a flippant thought based blog.
On the front page of the Guardian today was an image of a man who had just been informed by Malaysia Airlines (we are led to assume) that a close member of his family was almost certainly dead. He is obviously distraught - head in hands, tears streaming, features frozen in a contorted caricature of pain. But it was not the mans obvious distress that jumped out of this image at me, one of the things that I first noticed was the 5 or 6 other people taking pictures of him within the picture, some even on smart phones, suggesting they are simply interested in the mans lowest moment on a purely personal basis, maybe they were later to share these images, identifying themselves with this major world event.
What stood out even more was the obvious fact that the photographer had used a wide angle lens. This is not merely a technical observation - the choice of lens meant that the photographer had to be very close to the subject - probably less than a meter, it also means that the photographer was waiting and anticipating this moment, to capture this perfect immediacy of sorrow alongside the dozens of others waiting for this man to break so they could immortally preserve his pain.
What struck me most of all about this picture is the total lack of dignity given to this man in what will undoubtedly be the worst moment of his life, for what? To get the 'money shot' the image that most shows his breaking point? To sell papers? To make a living? This is someones job, to capture the most devastating moments of peoples lives, but not from a distance, from less than a meter away, multiple cameras surrounding the poor man while flashes freeze his tears. Is this where we are? A place where it is acceptable to throw a mans dignity to the side to capture a descriptive image for the world to comprehend the horror? Any normal person will understand the horror of this moment, more so by reading the details taken from a safe distance away from the embers of the mans hope. But we need immediacy, we need to see the horror before we understand it, we need to pick up the paper to look so we can understand why!?
I am sure that Don McCullin, Robert Capa and the multitude of photographers that have brought world events to our doorsteps over the years have had nothing but righteous intentions, but their lives were in danger, they made sacrifices on many levels to share events the world would otherwise never of seen or heard about. I cannot see them however waiting in an airport for a man to break on the inevitable news that members of his family are dead, this, to me, seems a step too far in the pursuit of a visual description.
There is no doubt that photojournalism is the most valuable form of photography, and has changed the world in which we live, often for the better, but it cannot be beyond account. Is it acceptable to sacrifice one mans dignity, to bulldoze into his darkest moment to share that with the world so that they can digest its consternation in seconds rather than minutes? Are our own valuable moments worth more than this mans worst? Or have we become so voyeuristic towards the horrors of others that we are numb to its effect?
I am sure papers were sold on the story, I am sure the photographer was paid and his family will eat this week, but the man he shot, the man whose bitter tears he could almost taste won't ever see some of his again. No picture will change that.

| LA |