It is fine and good to tell us what not to photograph, but once we’ve gotten through that list, what’s left?

I ask this question partly in jest, because Colin’s series of posts is quite a good read—a bit cynical, funny, and serious at the same time—and does something very necessary, which is to acknowledge that we photographers often rely too heavily on convention and format. One could easily extrapolate that to any group practicing any kind of art. It’s what people do.

The fact of the matter is that there are only so many great and original ideas to go around, and we can’t all be fortunate enough to have them, so we need to borrow from others from time to time. It’s who you borrow from that’s important. Shamelessly copping Alec Soth’s style won’t get you anywhere these days, because everyone is doing it, and they’re probably doing it better than you are. Find someone a bit more obscure, like John Divola, maybe, and try something involving empty buildings and spray paint. Throw in some string and tape, in the spirit of John Pfahl, and you might be on to something.

I’m sure this is true of everyone, but I have questions about the value of my own work all the time. After all, isn’t this set from Sicily just my own version of the vacation slideshow? Maybe this is why I always have problems coming up with work statements. “I was in Sicily. I walked around for two weeks with a camera. Black and white film.” That seems to pretty much sum it up. Decent pictures they may be, but I’m not sure where they go after that.

I have my own list of genres that I love and hate: I dislike irony, I despise a cheap joke, I think portraits are overrated except in those exceptionally rare 0.1% of photos where they’re great and in that case they’re the best thing ever. I love landscapes. Nothing gives me a thrill like Jem Southam’s Painter’s Pool, or Lee Friedlander’s Desert Seen. When I close my eyes, that is where I live, and that is the only place I want to be.

I’m afraid I get no points for originality for my choice of subject, and so I am going to have to make up for it with dedication and obsession. Which is fine, because hopefully I’ve got another 40 years to make that one transcendent piece before I shuffle off.