Authorship in a nutshell

When you think about it, taking pictures is nothing more than finding a way to make sure that people can tell the picture you took is intentional. Everything else is essentially subservient to that purpose. Composition? Just a way to prove you did what you did on purpose. Nice light? Shows you see the world in an aesthetic fashion. Dramatic moment? Shows you have good timing. Or think of the opposites. Messy? Doesn’t feel like anyone would want to capture something that way. Miscomposed? Looks like a mistake.

My favorites photographs are actually the really plain or even downright ugly ones. Signaling intentionality when something looks nice is easy. The very fact that a picture looks good is enough to tell people that the photographer meant it to be that way. To make it transcend day-to-day prettiness (and there are a lot of people capable of make some nice pictures), it better be ridiculous. Just shocking. Otherwise, it’s one among many. The same goes for bold emotions. Especially happy ones. You see someone smile, and everyone says “What a great moment.” My mother’s, aunts’ grandmother could figure that out. But the more plain a picture looks and the less distinct the emotion, the more a photographer needs to rely on concept, play off references, and utilize context to create a well-formed image. It’s delicate, but it’s the stuff of greatness. If you shoot something like Mark Borthwick, for example, you really have to work hard to imbue the image with the clues necessary to reveal that what you’re doing is more than pure craziness. You pull that off, and you’re one of the great ones. It’s dazzling. Watching people like Paul Graham, Stephen Shore, Alec Soth, and William Eggleston weave images out of nothing never ceases to amaze me.