Putting in the time

Forget about 10,000 hours. If that number isn’t familiar, read Outliers by Malcolm Gladwell. The short of it is you need 10,000 hours of practice to become an expert. The long of it is in Gladwell’s book. The truth of it is it wouldn’t matter if you needed 1,000 or 100,000 hours, because most people aren’t gonna get there. And the problem isn’t the amount of time, and it isn’t the ability. It’s that most people aren’t willing to do the boring stuff.

Finding Yourself is Hard
We hear it all day long. Find your voice, be the brand, know who you are, and get good at it. Be a specialist. Sure. All true. But there’s being a specialist because you know what you’re doing. And there’s running from everything you can’t do, so no one finds out you don’t have the chops. If you’re ever stuck running in fear, if you’ve ever been secretly afraid you’ll be found out, then you know what I mean. But telling people to suck it up and face the facts doesn’t sell. It doesn’t build friends. Telling people that it’s a long and hard road doesn’t motivate people to sign up for the 3-hour life-changing seminar. And hearing criticism just plain hurts. So who wants that?

There’s more information, more motivation, more inspiration now more than ever. But it’s harder now more than ever, too. Praise used to be hard-earned, the curve was steep, and evaluations were honest. Now, there are no barriers to entry. Everyone has something to sell. And no one is willing to offend anyone. We’re all best friends. As denizens of the new digital universe, we inhabit online worlds of perfectly manicured selves designed to tell us one thing. Everyone loves us. We put up a profile here, a wall there, a circle to the left, and a feed to the right. We remove the little that offends, though most of the ground work for a shiny, happy life has already been laid, and no one will tell you the hard stuff. So it’s up to you, and you alone to move yourself forward. And if you’ve ever found yourself afraid you’re a fraud, be happy. Embrace it. Make it a source of courage to do it the hard way. You will be one of the few, and that will make you strong.

We’re talking about real practice
Gladwell talks about the Beatles, who played day in and day out for four years in Berlin, working through their sound as the played live each night. Not for the glory. Not for the money. For the practice. Because they wanted to play. And if you think a four-year slog is for suckers, then you’re missing out. Success isn’t success if you suck. Done right, repetition breeds versatility. It reveals weakness. It allows for development. Each crowd was different. Each night was different. Each time was different. When you’re not stuck on auto-pilot, every performance is a new challenge, and that’s the key. Henri Cartier-Bresson was famous for his street photography, but have you seen his portraits? He’s no slouch. What about Bill Allard and Sam Abell? Or Jonas Bendikson or Antoine d’Agata? Can they hit it on all levels? Maybe yes, maybe no. It depends how you see it. But the “yes” reaches levels of brilliance, and the “no” is beyond what most professionals will ever reach. So the question is are we pushing through walls and learning to make it work? Or are we on the run? Trying to catch up to our reputation?

It always comes back to the ride. Are you in it for the quick fix and the next trick? Or are you in it to do something and mean something? Are you in it to feel like you’re good? Or to be good? So much of the wedding photography out there is so boring. The same thing from one person to the next. Safe. Secure. Marketable. But dull, dull, dull. And I don’t want to hear about how we have a job and a client and that’s what they want. Nobody who became somebody looked into the future and decided to boldly do what everyone else was doing, because that’s what their client asked for. We owe ourselves better. We owe our clients better.

As good as the technique has gotten, and for all that the talent pool has grown, the divide between those who innovate and those who replicate couldn’t be greater. Because it’s hard to fill in the gaps. It’s hard to see our limitations. And it’s easy to do what you want. It’s easy to learn what you want. It’s easy to go whole hog crazy with a bunch of filters and processing, to snap away at f/1.2, and to just have a couple walk and kiss, walk and kiss, walk and kiss. Tell me you can’t do it with a blindfold on. But can you play with depth of field like Mona Kuhn? Can you find tonality like Sebastiao Salgado? Or get a kiss like Nan Goldin? Kick it up a level. We all can, but we need to want it.

Plenty of people hit the 10,000 hour mark, but most of them have not arrived. Because the boring stuff matters. Photography isn’t just a process of loving what you do. It’s a process of learning to love what you do. It’s getting in so deep that the boring stuff isn’t boring anymore. Remember your perky self everyone secretly hated, because you loved every little thing? The one who couldn’t shut up about it and the new business you started? Who loved the simplest of discoveries ? Nothing was boring back then. We need to find that, not just at the start, but every single day. It’s sexy to hit the five figure weddings. It’s sexy to be featured somewhere. It’s sexy to get a blitz of attention and buzz. Being good has nothing to do with being sexy. Being good is about knowledge, understanding, and translating that into action. Do that, and you’ll get the rest for a lifetime. Do the rest, and you’ll get a big head, but not much else. How many people really survive the test of time? Few things are harder. But make it or not, the effort always takes you somewhere.

People don’t fail because they’re lacking. They fail, because they get lost. Or they never learn to be found. They fail, because there is so much noise and interruption in the world that they can’t find the line through that let’s them just learn to be themselves. It used to be that the simple act of living gave us those answers. Or at least more so. But now, we craft our personas, manage them, and adjust them at will. There are no anchors. But photography isn’t about a picture. It’s about the union between the outside world and the space in your head. And if you can’t settle into the space, the rest means nothing.

Where to go, what to do
So forget about the 10,000 hours. Chasing a number is like chasing a dollar figure. It puts the emphasis on all the wrong things. Make it about 1 hour. The next hour of your life, always. Don’t burn through it with the latest list in American Photo or reviews of the newest gear. No 1DX, no D4. No rumor sites. No online lifestyle magazines. You already know that look backwards and forwards. You don’t need another hour there. And no stalking your favorite wedding photographers, either. Everyone else is looking at the same. It even means putting down the 3 volume set from Bruce Davidson. And I love Bruce Davidson. But if you get the reference, odds are you know enough at the moment. Take a break for now.

Find something you don’t know. Do something you don’t do. Take a look at Robert Adams’ essays in Why People Photograph or dig into The Nature of Photographs by Stephen Shore. Go look at Blind Spot. Think about how a picture can match a sound or a feel. Think about 10 ways to shoot the same object. Or head over to the closest museum, look at something that isn’t photography, and absorb it. Then get back to yourself and rebuild your world to fit what you’ve learned. Next time you’ve got your camera in hand, skip the backlight and skip the big negative space. Those techniques aren’t going to leave you if you step away from them for awhile. Don’t hold on so tight. Besides, Rinko Kawauchi and Hiroshi Sugimoto have you beat. I promise you that. And if you think that I’m at it again – name-dropping away, damn straight, I am. Because these people I’ve mentioned are starting points for what’s out there, not end points. If you want to be a photographer with a capital P, get to know them, then push further.

And if you don’t want to be a photographer with a capital P, you should. Because, I’m not talking about ART. I’m not talking about stuffy people in black turtle-necks at fancy dinner parties, and I’m not talking about Converse adorned hipsters with black-rimmed glasses. And I’m not talking about FINE ART in that predatory way that every manufacturer does at the PDN Expo to try to convince you that you’re only a choice of 10 leathers away from giving your work the aura of godliness.

I’m talking talking about art, as in the thing that is personal. Believing in yourself. And I’m also talking about getting that voice to come through in the pictures you create. Because if it isn’t, what’s the point? I don’t want to hear how the staid composition shows dignity and restraint. I don’t want to hear how this picture is soooo special because of the amazingly sincere smile. You know the one. It looks pretty much just the same as everyone else’s, except you took the picture instead of someone else. As creators, we all get attached that way, but the picture needs its own conviction. And if it doesn’t? Then figure out how to make it speak. Show something more. Everyone saw the smile. What did you see in it that others didn’t? What did you see other than the smile? See Martin Schoeller’s book, Close-Ups. Plain as day, simple as can be, but revealing. Different. They’re not just the same look, the same gaze, or the same portraits you’ve seen before. They are uniquely his vision. He owns them.

Play like yourself
If we’re going to sell our clients on the idea that everyone is unique and everyone has value for who they are, we owe it to ourselves to apply the same standard. We deserve that. Not to be our happiest when our pictures look like those of others, no matter how stylish or professional, but to be our happiest when they look the most distinctly different from others. Even when it scares us. Even when some hate it. Even in failure. Because those differences are our chance to contribute to the world. They are the best of us. Stop making boring pictures. Stop making pictures that say “I have skill.” Make pictures that say “I have a belief.” That’s what 10,000 hours is about. Getting past the skill, getting past the technique, and letting us feel comfortable in our own skins for who we are. As Miles Davis said, “Sometimes you have to play a long time to be able to play like yourself.”