The Clarity of Distance

Over the years, I have learned an important lesson about problem solving. Sometimes, the very best thing you can do when you are stuck on a problem is to take a break and get some fresh air. Stepping away for a little while gives your brain a chance to rest, and sometimes, that’s exactly what it needs. Sure enough, solutions will present themselves, often when you least expect them.

As a photographer, I have adopted a few practical habits that take advantage of this “clarity of distance”; the fact that a problem will often help solve itself if you give it a little bit of space.

One thing that I have noticed about working in the landscape is that it takes time to become familiar with a new place. My first photographs from a particular location are full of excitement and new ideas, but it can take subsequent visits to develop those ideas into something that takes advantage of the unique characteristics of the place. I have visited some of my now-favorite locations three or four times before the good pictures begin to happen.

Something special happens in that time in-between visits. Somewhat subconsciously, I synthesize a whole bunch of information about the site. When I revisit the site, I have a stronger idea of where I want to go, what I want to see, and the pictures I want to make. I have begun to think of that in-between time as crucial to the development of a project.

Another example of this phenomenon has to do with contact sheets. When I get a batch of film back from the lab, I can’t wait to tear into it and start looking at images. Often, though, the first look at a contact sheet is a bit humbling. None of the images are quite what I remembered them to be. After feeling bad for myself for a little while, a few images start to look promising and I get to work on processing them.

Taking a look at that same contact sheet a week later, after I’ve had some time to digest, things tend to look a little different. There are often one or two photos that didn’t jump out at me on first glance, but have stuck with me for one reason or another. After a little bit of time and space, the possibilities begin to emerge. Many times it is these images, and not the first ones that I selected, that end up being my favorite from the day.

There are other times when a little bit of time and patience has it’s rewards. I find that if I take a few days between first processing an image and coming back to it, I will always have some some ideas about fine-tuning. When editing a series of photos, a second or third pass a week later makes all the difference.

Developing patience and persistence has been one of the most difficult things I’ve had to learn as a photographer—much more so than acquiring the technical skills necessary to make a picture. It has required a fundamental shift in my methods of thinking and working, and at times can be at odds with how the world expects things to be done. But I have come to realize that creative work is a luxury, that quality should be rewarded over quantity, and that I am working on things that I want to be proud of in twenty, thirty, forty years from now, and all of that requires time.

Do you have any suggestions for habits and skills that have improved your creative workflow? Please share them in the comments.

February 23, 2009