I’ve had some conversations with friends lately in which I’ve tried to explain why I feel a need to put my photographs and my writing ‘out there’, and why I get discouraged when there’s no subsequent response or interaction with people who’ve read or seen them.
Their reaction is to tell me – usually fairly vehemently – that it shouldn’t bother me, I should take pictures purely for myself, I shouldn’t care whether anyone else likes them or not, and so forth. There’s quite a bit of truth in this, and for a while it made me question my own motives – am I really so insecure that I need some kind of ‘applause’? Perhaps I am, I thought. And then I thought, but I don’t give much significance to getting ‘likes’ on Instagram or Facebook, and have long realised it’s all a big popularity game with no substance. Obviously I’d rather have likes than no response, but it doesn’t mean a whole lot to me.
What it means to me, I suddenly realised, is that someone has looked at them. Or if it’s a comment on a blog post or article, that someone has read it. And what I most want, it came to me, is to share what I’ve done with other people. If something really good happens to me, my first reaction is usually to get on the phone to a friend or to Geoff to tell them all about it. I have a strong urge to share it with someone else. So when I take a shot that I’m pleased with, I want to say the equivalent of ‘Look! Look what I saw!’ A joy shared is a joy doubled for me, and I always hope that it works the other way round too, just as I get happy when I hear some good news from a friend. And a sorrow shared is a sorrow halved, if that’s the way it’s worked out.
It also seems to me that creativity is a lot about communicating. All artists with integrity do the work for themselves and their own fulfilment, but if they chose to keep it to themselves then the world would be deprived of a lot of pleasure, insight, and satisfaction. A lot of issues wouldn’t be raised, or beauty made available. A lot of great art would have been lost to the world. If Vivian Maier’s photographs hadn’t been discovered in a storage locker, wouldn’t the world have been deprived of something valuable?
Art is a kind of communication – yes, there is a point in writing for one’s own satisfaction only, but if you have something to say then wouldn’t you like to open it up to conversation? Make it available to others? There is a point in taking photos purely for your own pleasure, but isn’t looking at other people’s photography and sharing your own with them part of what makes it good? For me, it would be like living my life without ever talking to anyone.
But I can hear a whisper in the background – a lot of art is banal, derivative, awful, crude. There’s no denying this, but whatever sort of art it is, it still gives pleasure to a lot of people. You may think they have terrible taste, but this kind of art serves them, just as your kind of art serves you, and you can choose not to engage with what doesn’t work for you. And who’s to tell, in the moment, what’s good and what’s bad? Van Gogh was derided for his ‘amateurish’ work in his day, and Monet, Duchamp, Turner, El Greco, and a host of others were severely criticised and not taken seriously in their lifetimes. There are always diamonds to be found in the dross, but no dross, no diamonds.
On that note, I offer you some beach huts, taken last year in a wintry North Berwick, near Edinburgh. I hope you like them, but it doesn’t matter if you don’t – I’m just pleased that I’m able to share my moment of seeing with you.