tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30786249.post3810288265615285537..comments2007-04-03T12:01:16.146+01:00Richnoreply@blogger.comBlogger4125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30786249.post-51709629366763504212007-04-03T10:41:00.000+01:002007-04-03T10:41:00.000+01:00I'm completely with Don on the complacency point. To me, it's not so much about "going to the next level", because that implies that what you just did wasn't "as good", but more so continuing to search around for new and different things to work on. Once you stop moving and once you get stuck shooting things that are redundant, that's when you know it's time to move.<BR/>As always - great post!Iris Dassaulthttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11118248701803666700noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30786249.post-77333214367241241632007-04-02T06:19:00.000+01:002007-04-02T06:19:00.000+01:00I also haven't used the term, but I am changing my process to be more deliberate. Money and equipment doesnt' define the change, but in my case the move to 4x5 does cripple me and prevent me from continuing on the current track. <BR/><BR/>The current track has been excellent. But it's not a challenge anymore. I mean, how many women can one photograph masturbating before you see the same old stuff? I don't know where I'll be going next, only that it will be slower, more deliberate and will require me to visualize, rather than simply "catch" the photograph.<BR/><BR/>An artist that gets complacent isn't working hard enough. I'm not working hard enough.<BR/><BR/>What next? No idea yet. But it won't be the same as the last phase.<BR/><BR/>-DonD. Brian Nelsonhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03526887737403699976noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30786249.post-20036922022721252892007-04-01T14:33:00.000+01:002007-04-01T14:33:00.000+01:00Hiya lin,<BR/><BR/>Finally I have hit all the deadlines and so have time to respond!<BR/><BR/>There's an artistic similarity here between what you talk about and the journey that musicians make. I used to play the piano quite well, but was always deeply frustrated by it. I hit a ceiling that I couldn't get beyond. I found that my hands just wouldn't bring out the music that I felt was there in my heart; my fingers kept falling into the same patterns of sounds, which was boring. I felt it was my hands that were the problem - I just wasn't using them skillfully enough.<BR/><BR/>Wrong.<BR/><BR/>In the end I realised learning the piano is like learning a new language. First you learn the mechanics, how to get your mouth to make the new sounds; then you learn the structure, grammar and vocab. But none of this will ever make you a poet in either the new language or the old. At the very best, language is a tool that can fluidly allow or stubbornly get in the way of the expression of thought and heart. Whether it's used technically or from the gut, its not the language itself that is the beauty of the poem, it's just the carrier of it. <BR/><BR/>In the end the, cure for me was to abandon technique altogether. I discovered singing with other people. Because using the voice is something we just DO without thinking about it means I can put down my head, and make music from the heart. Ok, lots of practice and learning a little technique have happened along the way, but that's not the point. Fundamentally, now, the tool is no longer getting in the way of the creative act. At last there's a clear channel between what I feel musically and what I make. The tool is no longer a problem and I can get on with finding out how to bring out the heart in music more and more. I'm still only an OK musician, but I'm no longer being driven nuts by the bloody tools of the trade.<BR/><BR/>I think the same process is utterly relevant to photography or ANY other artistic venture. A new camera, new gadget, or praise about the exactness of a technique will *never* make anyone a great photographer. The very most it can do is to remove a small barrier that has clouded your sight over the biggest goal - and that's finding how to make visual poetry without thinking about the tools of the trade. And *that* journey has got sod all to do with the mechanics of photography.<BR/><BR/>Lady Tottington & I have followed the links from your blog and had a good look around some of the other sites too. *Some* are really good, some are clearly stuck in a rut of technique. For those people, I'd suggest spending 6 months attending drawing and design/composition classes instead. While it would no doubt be uncomfortable, it would offer the opportunity to change how they use their eyes and bring a fresh perspective back to how they use a camera. Frankly, attending local adult education art classes will do far more for any frustrated photographer than a Rolls Royce of a camera will ever do. After all, David Bailey took some of his most famous photos on an Olympus Trip.<BR/><BR/>Oh, and Lin, speaking as a bloke, I find it almost impossible to believe that it's not all about the boobs. Otherwise, these same photographers would have an equal proportion of non-gorgeous, non-perky boobs in their portfolios. If the demand was there, the models would be too. <BR/><BR/>Most of the famous artists of previous centuries have been obsessed with bodies and sex. They were censured by the state for portraying eroticism and hid it behind scenes of classical antiquity, while engaging in rampant affairs and leaving a trail of broken women's (and men's) hearts behind them. Ahh, the artistic temperament. <BR/><BR/>Now what was it you said in a previous post about most photographers in your scene being single? <BR/><BR/>Grommit :-)Grommitnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30786249.post-39650183338586751262007-04-01T12:44:00.000+01:002007-04-01T12:44:00.000+01:00I don't think I've ever used the phrase "next level" to describe where my work was going. I have said that my work has "turned the corner" a few times in the last few years. Looking back on it, it's always meant that my work has somehow gotten more explicit as well as more personal.mnmjr.http://www.blogger.com/profile/05563121851411862754noreply@blogger.com