Why do we photograph? Is it for the clout? For the attention? For the money? For the prestige? For pleasure? Is it for the love of the subject? Is it because we want to shine a light on something that’s important to us? To send a message? Is it purely for memory? Do we even understand our own reasons for taking photos?
These questions have been rolling around in my mind a lot recently. Why do I take photos? I guess the easy (if somewhat circular) answer to that question is: “I take photographs because I enjoy taking photographs”. But what does that really mean? If I didn’t enjoy it, I wouldn’t do it. There’s got to be a deeper reason behind that drive to charge up some batteries, load up some empty SD cards, pack a small bag, and head out to the coast, the city centre, the woods, come what may with the weather. There’s lots of things I enjoy, but I rarely do. I enjoy playing football. I enjoy watching films. I enjoy writing (although that may not always be apparent!). And yet, I either rarely have the time, the energy or the inclination for any of those things. And yet, no matter what, every weekend, I pack my camera gear and go out.
One of the things that has got me thinking a lot about this recently is stumbling across some photographers and their…non-photographic interests. Now, I don’t expect every photographer to wear their politics on their sleeves, and I certainly don’t expect everyone to share my political views (in many respects, I’d be very disappointed if they did…after all, our society is nothing like the society I want to live in). Whilst I was disappointed in the views that I stumbled upon (completely at odds with everything I subscribe to), it was the contrast between their views and their art that I was most puzzled by (I’m long past the stage where I am puzzled by unpalatable views - I live in Kent after all).
For me, I find landscape photography and a scepticism about climate change, or climate activisim, a jarring juxtopostion. Equally, I find subscribing to cynical views about “identity politics” and street photography, a tricky concept to wrap my head around. If we are taking pictures of landscapes aren’t we, in the nature of the act, seeking to highlight the beauty of the natural world? Are we not, in our own small way, contributing to the discourse around nature and the environment? Do we not, when out photographing these scenes, seek to help preserve the landscapes before us for future generations? When taking pictures of people in the street, aren’t we attempting to show the humanity of the people we live alongside? Aren’t we attempting to capture what it is to be human and help to break down the boundaries between us? And if not, what are we trying to achieve?
For the past couple of years, I’ve been taking photos in my local woodland during bluebell season. It’s a spectacular sight at that time of year. A carpet of bluebells as far as the eye can see. Delicate flowers sprouting up from the woodland floor, adding a splash of colour after the long, colourless winter. But every year I am distressed. Distressed because I see photographers trampling (literally) through the bluebells to get that “banger” shot. To get the photo that no-one else will get (largely because most people are respectful of the delicate, wild flowers). But here’s the thing, trampled bluebells are a depressing sight. Why? As the Woodland Trust puts it:
“Bluebells can take years to recover from the damage caused by trampling, and if their leaves are crushed they can be weakened (as they can no longer photosynthesise).”
It destroys them not just for that season, for the people to enjoy that springtime, but potentially for years to come. If you love nature, if your love of nature is at the heart of your photography, why would you inflict such vandalism?
You might be pondering why I’ve sat on that particular complaint for several months before venting about it, but it’s illustrative of my wider confusion about the rationale behind the photography of others. We know capitalism can have a corrupting influence on human behaviour (you don’t have to be a Marxist to see this…though it helps of course), so is it about the financial aspect? Do people see the landscape, or even people, as a way to leverage income? Do the pound signs light up as the sun illuminates the landscape? Is it that, rather than celebrating the environment, in whatever form that takes, that motivates some photographers? Or is it clout? In many respects, clout can be linked to income generation, but also plays into ego and self-esteem. We’ve heard plenty over the years about the dopamine hit from social media clout. Is that, superifical as it is, the motivation? Getting that banger? Pushing up those likes in order to be seen as a “popular” photographer, rather than a respected one?
It’s for this reason, I struggle to rationalise people who reject the well-documented, indisputable (unless you’re in receipt of funds from oil companies of course…) impact that humans have on the climate, who dismiss climate change campaigners and any efforts to green our economy, and yet make landscape photography their “thing”. Equally, I cannot rationalise people who are racist, homophobic, transphobic, misogynistic or ableist also being street photographers, particularly street photography where the human is the subject. What is the message they want to convey when photographing the landscape or people on the streets? Is it one they even understand or truly subscribe to?
As for me, I don’t know what my motivations are really. I don’t know what makes me want to pick up a camera. I consider myself an environmentalist, and I believe in respecting nature when out taking photographs. I like to share the drama and the beauty of nature. I respect it, its power and its beauty. And I want to share this beauty, I think, to show how amazing the world is and, as a result, try to play a small role in helping to preserve it.
When it comes to the streets, I (half-)jokingly refer to myself as a misanthrope. In truth, it’s not people I hate. It’s what people can be that I hate. Hateful, prejudicial, disrespectful, ignorant…Human beings can be this way, but we don’t need to be. We can (we must) seek to be empathetic to the lived experience of others. We must not only show empathy, but stand in solidarity, to protect or to enhance the lives of those around us whose lived experience differs from our own. How can we engage in the act of photography, whatever the subject, if we do not respect that subject?
If we are to engage in the act of photography in a pure and uncynical way, if we are creating art rather than just “content”, then photography surely must convey respect for the environment and for humanity1. And if it is a celebration, then it is surely a subject that we love, we respect, and that we wish to protect. And, if not, why photograph?
1 I use "humanity" here rather than "human" to acknowledge that some photography portrays inhumane acts, not because of the inhumanity of the photographer, or to celebrate those inhumane acts, but conversely because of the humanity of the photographer and their repudiation of inhumane acts (in which case the human in the subject may be captured in disgust, or with a lack of respect for the perpetrators). Of course, this also depends on how the photograph is shot, but I would argue that a photo that portrays inhumane acts cannot be considered art - but that's a whole other discussion.
Following the drafting of this post, I watched the recent video by Adam Karnacz. Towards the end of the video, Adam talks very movingly about what photography means to him as a creative outlet. I’ve embedded the video below from the point at which he talks about his experiences and his photography. It felt a good fit for some of the things I was thinking about in the post above.