I read the following words-of-wisdom (in my opinion) and have been saving them for many years in a file cabinet that I emptied today. In light of the present discussions on the list (or lack thereof) I thought they might be appropriate to share since I believe there is a ready application for them in photo courses as well as professional situations. I am posting this with what I hope would be the blessing of the author although I have not been able to contact him. Andy Davidhazy - andpph@rit.edu ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ On Taking Yourself Seriously By David Vestal as it appeared in Popular Photography magazine One of this century's livelier art movements was Dadaism, which began in Switzerland during World War I. Dada was mainly negative and took an anti-art, anti-rational stand. Dada works were meant to shock, but most of them were purely silly. In this it was prophetic (look around). In its futile way, Dada was an apt response to the world of 1916, as it is to our own: foolishness in answer to craziness. Sorrow and anger are unavoidable and just, but they do not turn evil into good. The hell with reproach, then. Ridicule fits better. The Dadaists regarded the world as a stupid joke - a viewpoint that's hard to argue against. My favorite act by the Dadaists was when they expelled one of their number for taking himself seriously. Did they realize that in doing so they were taking themselves seriously? I like it. I have noticed that in photography, whether it's a photographer, a critic, or whatever, one thing usually goes with quick recognition and what is called success: the person takes himself seriously to the point of obsession. Nothing else is allowed to matter as much. The required insane belief that you are more important then anyone, and that, as a result, your work is more important than anything, cannot survive intelligent scrutiny; but it is hardly ever asked to. And it's one of the most effective sales devices on earth: even when it's mistaken, total conviction is contagious. Sometimes it isn't conviction, but simply a bold lie. The more preposterous a claim is, the harder it is for honest people, who feel ashamed when they lie, to disbelieve. This may be why absurd and stupid photographs get so much attention and applause. People just can't believe they're as bad as they look, although they generally are. It's easier to ignore and dismiss good work for which no great claims are made; and that's what happens. Art history consists largely of this. I'm not against ego except when it runs wild, but I recommend cultivating a sense of proportion. You may come to see that however much you like your own work - as I like mine, for instance - it won't save the world. Photographing makes little difference as the rest of the things people do: we live and die, and the world goes on. When you realize this, you may not be able to take yourself seriously enough to make a career of it. I hope so. This has good and bad sides. Good: It lets you take your pictures seriously instead of yourself. You look at them critically as well as fondly and reject the ones that don't work. This helps, because those who think they can do no wrong have a blind spot that leads them to accept poor work. Your work may well be as important as anyone else's; but how can anyone tell? Don't look down on others too readily, but look up to no one. This spares you the need to imitate and to play at being important, leaving you free to work as you choose without worrying about people's reactions. If you take your work seriously enough to keep doing it as well as you can, regardless, that's what seems to matter. The bad side is that photographs are made to be seen and felt by others, and you may sometimes get the depressing feeling that no one will see yours. Then what good is it? The only answer is that if you work sincerely, it does you good to do the work. If nothing else pans out, that will have to serve. I notice that Pissarro's paintings have now been discovered by the museums on whose walls they've been hanging all along. The museum people just didn't pay attention until now. They knew about Pissarro, but they didn't know him. Then, apparently, after many years, someone said, "Wow! Pissarro!" and they latched on. Our art authorities keep demonstrating that they're clods. Now they are busy selling Pissarro to the public, and they feel like pioneers. It's a Dada joke. I doubt that Pissarro took himself very seriously. He was known for helping other painters, not for chasing after fame. You see the results. I'm on some strange mailing lists, so sometimes I get letters written by art photographers to tell collectors about their latest opuses. These letters are models of pomposity, written in the third person for grandeur and sprinkled with magic words calculated to impress and sell. No plain word is used if a fancy one can be found. They go like this: "Mr. E. Gregious announces that as of November 31 the price of his historic Blah-Blah Series will go up from $750 to $1,000 per print. "Mr. Gregious is presently preparing a definitive archival edition, strictly limited to 100,000 sets, after which the negatives will be retired, of signed, silver-gelatin chlorobromide prints of his celebrated Yeah-Yeah Series, widely considered by informed connoisseurs to be among his most significant images. In the words of the noted critic, I.G. Norant, "Int he ontological paradigm with which they confront the stunned viewer, these Angst- filled images form the ineffable quintessence of this transcendent artist's oeuvre". "Exquisitely slipcased in antique buckram with an overlay of rare glazed chintz and hand-laid, acid-free, rag-paper linings, these extraordinary images may be viewed by special appointment at the artist's atelier." And so on. I'm not exaggerating much. They do go on like that, and at much greater length. Sometimes the pictures are fairly good; more often they are lousy. Once in a great while the pictures are excellent. I can think of one very good photographer who sends letters much like this. I don't know how he can stand writing them. If you're not a fraud, you have to take yourself awfully seriously to write such bilge about your work. It's ridiculous and embarrassing, but apparently it sells. Sometimes I wish I could do it. More often I'm glad I can't. When good photographers fall into this routine, I groan and wish them luck. When the usual incompetents do it, I wish them justice, not mercy. To picture buyers: When faced with the solemn and ludicrous pomposity of art photographers and their dealers, ignore the pitch but look well at the pictures. Don't try to impress anyone. Just follow your feelings; that's the only way to judge pictures. And of your feelings, you are the only judge. No matter what is said, buy the photographs you like and leave the rest. To photographers: If you can possibly help it, don't take yourself too seriously. If you can't help it, I can't help you. Either way, you're stuck, so take yourself as you are.
