Prints left on the coffee table. A darkroom chemical-scented vision of the perfectionist. We hear it often, romantic nostalgia from the old masters of printing. Recently, common sense fell on me; it’s the most important aspect of the process.
Years ago, walking into the house of the late David Chow, An expert on Platinum printing. On his coffee table lay dozens of prints from Simon Larbalestier, images of Cambodia. I struggled to tell the difference, but each was a slightly different exposure or contrast. This got me into the mistaken mindset that such a routine was for the perfectionist. Believe me, David was that.
Since, I’ve seen the same process on the rather costly ‘learn on demand’ Magnum videos. Recently overhearing a long video call from a designer endlessly discussing an image on his screen everything seemed to fit into place. You need to spend time with your images.
My favourite book, ‘Art and Fear’ often states; that you do the work and the work provides the next set of questions. The dead-end I’ve been stuck at is because I’m not listening to their questions. You might be thinking; I’m reusing some old images to fill content in my blog. Yes, I am. I also had never printed out the images and spent time with them. So, what did I learn, what questions did I find?
Firstly, it’s hard, it’s hard because we live in a world so distracted. Hard not to surrender to the urge to jump onto the next thing, why on earth spend time with work from months back? Honestly, I placed the prints on the table, had some shallow thoughts about them, mainly technical, and then they’ve been stuck on that table for weeks. Whilst lingering on my coffee table ignored, I've read a couple of art books, had conversations with friends and galleries visited. The last few days things have started to make sense.
The Print I wanted to love and did love the most has now started to fall back into the pack. Some sprightly advice “Kill your darlings”. I recently read an old book on painting; I noticed the warnings it had “Avoiding the sentimental”. I’ve read a few books on art from the 20th century, and this is a common warning. Trying to improve my prose for this stupid blog I also started reading a book on writing style. The book fiercely attacks the over-sentimental and clichéd. It’s made me start to question everything and fall out of love with huge swathes of model photography.
Other prints I loved, dreamy quality in leaves and nature, prints that could develop with wonderful texture and tones have also started to ask questions. As ‘Art and Fear’ warns, the work never really gives answers.
As I go away to ask myself why I make things happen in my images as they do, should they? What else could they say? I’ve found myself starting to draw stronger lines between the images I love and I don’t like. I feel I've reached another level and can finally start to move forward again. Do it for a strong reason or don’t do it at all, is what I’m scalding myself about tonight.
My favourite image, at first it was just a feeling, now I think I understand why, and am ready to test it with my next roll of film. I posted it online and it wasn’t a runaway success, which leads me onto another thing I read this week from that old book on painting "Never share work with your friends" I guess it depends on who your friends are. I could have dismissed it as having some personal attachment that others cannot see, but after spending time with it I can see its authenticity, its lack of obvious sentimentalism or ego. Truth and beauty.
