Photographic Freedom

I don’t write posts on wider contemporary, topical themes, typically. But as I was thinking about the concept of freedom, leading up to this week’s celebration of the American concept of liberty on July 4th, I thought of freedom’s relationship to my art/hobby/pastime (call it what you will) of photography.

I think that, in general, all artistic endeavors, and even hobbies, are an expression of freedom. Autonomy is a wonderful thing, as we have been discovering, exploring and celebrating at least since the early days of the Enlightenment in Europe. It allows us to think about expressing the things which we ourselves feel are important, instead of just towing whatever political, cultural or religious line we are told by society is our place to tow. It provides a profound freedom to explore the way things move us, but it comes with a great responsibility as well. In expressing things which move us, we must inquire deeply about what, how and why we are moved. Must explore these things in order to determine their authenticity, their transience or permanence, and their relevance.

For example, and not to get too topical, I am sure you have met numerous people whose calling in life seems to be to uphold some political or cultural cause. In some cases, the cause resonates with them deeply, and expands and clarifies who they are. But in many, and in the ones which I am holding up as an example, it just lessens the individuality and humanity of the person. They become to others a caricature of themselves, a shell with a driving force not their own.

This is an extreme example, but one which is all too familiar these days. I had to ask myself about my own pursuit of photography as a form of personal expression, and ask whether there was something about it which has lost authenticity to the deeper movement of my own thoughts and values. I can think of a couple of ways in which my photography does not always measure up.

One way is in the styles and genres which I shoot. I am not someone who desires to be an influencer, and I do not chase article views, likes or subscriptions. But that doesn’t mean that I’m never swayed by the work that other, more prominent, photographers are sharing, or that I don’t shoot for an audience more than for myself, sometimes. In the online communities that I am a part of, I typically know who might be interested in a shot I take, or a post processing style, or a photographic genre. At times I find myself creating images for the purpose of attracting a bit of attention from people in these communities. I know that this doesn’t come from the best part of my thinking or emotions. Rather, it is attention-seeking; something less mature, more needy, than what I want to follow in my work.

The other main way in which I am swayed from true autonomy is one which may be familiar to many readers: we frequently call it G.A.S., or Gear Acquisition Syndrome. It’s the feeling of excitement we get when new photographic equipment is announced, or we come across something in a camera shop which immediately piques our interest. The new thing seems so profoundly exciting, it may as well have revolutionized my whole outlook, and nearly everything which came before pales in comparison.

I don’t mean that new equipment can’t change some aspects of the work we do, or that it won’t often be a change for the better. I have had numerous experiences where new gear did just that, especially as I become able, slowly, to acquire better quality and higher-priced gear. But it is all too easy to slip into a mental state where only new gear gives us the thrill of creating, and new visions only manifest when a new camera or lens appears in our bags. I run the risk of never truly getting the most out of my presently owned equipment, when new equipment is able to nudge me off course from using what I already have.

On a different level, and perhaps a more practical one, G.A.S. makes me allocate more of my income and my time to the acquisition of gear. Money and time are both finite resources. Also – especially for a hobby – if the expansion of my equipment isn’t tied to surplus of time and income, then it is actually taking things away from the other important aspects of my life. In other words, if I am spending time trying to figure out how to afford something (I am looking at you, Pentax K-3 Mark III Monochrome), then I am in the wrong place. I am not approaching this artistic pursuit from a place of true autonomy, true freedom.

There are reasons for this. I think a large one is that I am shaped by an attitude of want. I come at things from a baseline assumption that I am lacking things that I need, instead of one where I believe I have everything I need for happiness and wholeness. Part of this may come from my upbringing in a relatively poor family, but a lot of it comes from American society. We’re programmed to feel want as members of a civilization which runs on, feeds off of, capitalism. Capitalism, whatever you feel about it, instills want as a fundamental part of how it works, at least in our current implementation. Goods and services must proliferate rather than stagnate. From the advertisements which we continually see to the way we experience envy when we see the conspicuous wealth of others, we are all conditioned to experience a lack of… something. Want is our default state.

But want is not aligned with freedom. Autonomy is antithetical to want. If we are lacking something, and we are autonomous, we do what we need to in order to obtain that thing. But once we get it, we don’t almost immediately want something else. Rather, we should be enriched and empowered by obtaining the thing that we lacked.

The stress and strain of being authentically autonomous, being really free, is serious business. It isn’t easy. In some ways, people seem to be ready to unburden themselves of some of the trappings of freedom, just to feel some relief and put down the tools of struggle for a while. That can be good or bad – it depends on what we put our trust in, when we’re not actively engaged in the struggle for independence. But I also realized, upon reflecting on my pursuit of photography, that perhaps some of that relaxation of struggle is just in recognizing what I already have, and realizing that I can do what moves me. Not shoot to preconceptions, not shoot for an audience other than myself, and not pine for equipment which I don’t need.