Beneath the thick external layer of sarcasm and indifference there exists an even deeper layer of sarcasm and indifference.
Beneath that layer exists this.
One of the many reasons I quit my job was that it would allow me to take risks with my photography. I could leap first and worry about landing later. I would have the freedom to fail. There would always be tomorrow.
Instead I’ve fallen into the familiar and comfortable pattern of scouring the western US for (often inaccurate) forecasts aiming to capture a previsualized image, driving for hours to get to my destination, and then repeating the entire process again, sometimes as soon as the next day.
Waiting three days for the right conditions to materialize seems impossible, but that’s only because I’ve bought into the myth that there are right conditions. There is no such thing as bad light, there are only bad photographers and bad photographs.
I need to start using my eyes more and stop letting my brain get in the way. I need to find creative ways of capturing and communicating the emotion of a scene rather than just recording its literal appearance. I need to start getting uncomfortable. At the very least I need to use the forecasts only as a mechanism for encouraging me to go somewhere and not as an excuse to leave or give up.
There is a cruel trick that my mind likes to play: The more often and (supposedly) competently I do something the more dissatisfied I am with the result. I can fool just about everyone but myself.
When the weather and my stubborn inflexible brain are in alignment and I get the conditions necessary to capture my visualized image, I’m rarely happy with it. I see it as derivative, boring, or falling short of my imagined ideal. The strong emotional high of the experience is dulled by my clumsy attempts to record it. Anyone able to drive 10 hours and be up at 4:30 in the morning at this spot could have gotten the same thing or better. My only talent is endurance. There is nothing exciting or groundbreaking happening here. This isn’t art.
I know that this is (usually) an irrational and emotional position. But it doesn’t matter what I know, it matters how I feel. The human race has been feeling a lot longer than it has been thinking. Bridging that gap for some people is easy. For me, there is no rational way to dig myself out of an emotional hole. I’m too close to it to view it objectively and all I’m left with is how I feel.
So my response has always been to keep moving. To trade the feelings of failure for miles, my current location with a new one, the being here with the getting there and letting the emotional highs of the experience carry me, all while hoping someday to be able to communicate those experiences with photographs, or at least start to be able to fool myself as well as I’ve been fooling everyone else.
Note that this isn’t a cry for help or a solicitation for sympathy or encouragement. This is just meant to provide insight into my thought process. Reading it again it sounds depressing as hell (and it is!), but my frustration is only in translating my experiences into equivalent photographs. If I didn’t enjoy the experiences I wouldn’t be doing it. I’ve seen many awesome spectacles of nature the past two years and I am extremely grateful for having that opportunity. I’m just hoping the photographs will catch up (once in awhile they do, not has often as I would like). I don’t really believe that anyone who is completely happy with what they are doing or where they are at can actually make any progress or produce anything of value. Struggle is part of it. Without the lows there are no highs, there’s just mediocrity.