It is remarkable how many photographers are not content to simply take pictures.
The ways this disaffection surfaces may vary. The number of tricks and gimmicks and special effects gadgets on the market—star filters and graduated color filters and vignetters and worse—is of course one sign of it. With many photographers, it takes the form of an endless search for equipment and materials of the utmost quality. “Is this lens best?” “Is this latest film slightly more saturated in the reds?” A variant of this is the willful but unnecessary use of oddball cameras for effect. In a more sophisticated form it is reflected in the complete fabrication of set-pieces, so that the resulting photographs do nothing more than illustrate an idea in a photographer’s or an art director’s head. Amateur work may be derivative, but of course pros, too, fall all over themselves pandering to the latest trends, whether it be softboxes, or hard light, or “light painting” guns. What it all seems to indicate is that many photographers, amateur and pro, seem to be constantly searching for some technique, some effect, or some material that will set their pictures apart, and make them “special.”
Does this have something to do with character?
The camera is a mechanical intermediary between the desire to create and the reified creation. It rescues the craftsperson from the intimidating challenge of the blank canvas or the uncarved block. The camera always creates something, even with a minimum of direction by the operator. So perhaps photography attracts some people who want and expect their creativity to be automatic. And I’d propose, tentatively, that maybe these photographers’ search for “specialness” expresses their dissatisfaction that it hasn’t turned out to be that way.
Many (not all) of the best photographers—maybe just the luckiest—settle on their mature technique relatively early, and then “get past” the technique and concentrate on the visual content of the pictures. This includes artists as diverse as Weston, Winogrand, Julia Margaret Cameron, Cartier-Bresson, and Paul Caponigro, among many others. The list is a long one. Even a photographer such as Nicholas Nixon—who set out in the beginning of his career intending to deliberately change his technique at regular intervals—has, by now, naturally settled on a signature technique. The techniques in question are all different. Each one suits each individual photographer’s style of seeing, or it suits their times. But each of them found a set of techniques that were satisfactory...and then got down to the real work.
Getting past technique makes the photographer ask a crucial question: assuming the use of the same camera, the same film, and the application of the same basic technical competence—in other words, the same effects—what makes one picture better than another, or one picture better than a hundred others? The way in which a photographer answers that question will ultimately determine how successful, how significant, his or her work will be.