finding one’s own voice

It’s a tricky and difficult business, whether you’re a painter, musician, teacher, chef, writer, photographer. But it’s what we all set out to do. Simply mouthing someone else’s words gets old, and besides, it’s not very stimulating or fulfilling.

Recently a reader wrote to tell me that my work has helped inspire him as he tries to discover his own personal vision. What an honor. I was really moved by this. It called to mind the long list of photographers whose work has challenged, motivated and encouraged me as I (continue to) build and fine-tune my voice as an image-maker.

I thought about a quote of Mary Ellen Mark’s in response to the question, “How did you develop your own way of seeing?” She said (and by the way, Mary Ellen has hugely impacted me over the years, both on a personal and visual level):

“I don’t think you can develop or learn a way if seeing or a ‘point of view.’ A ‘way of seeing’ is who you are, how you think and how you create images. It’s how you look at the world. For example, look at the work of some of the great photographers like Robert Frank, Irving Penn, Andre Kertesz, Helen Levitt and Henri Cartier-Bresson. It’s easy to recognize their pictures because their photographs reflect their distinct vision.” She advises budding photographers to “be true to yourself and follow your hopes and dreams. Look at the work of great photographers and try to understand what makes their images great. Be inspired, but don’t copy their work. You must have your own point of view, your own way of looking at the world. The worst thing someone can say to you is that your work reminds them of somebody else’s work.” (from Image Makers/Image Takers by Anne-Celine Jaeger)

I agree with everything MEM says, with the exception of that last statement.

I am not so sure it is possible to speak in a way that is totally void of any and all other influences. We move through life with a constant barrage of other people’s ideas and expressions. Unless you put on a blindfold, a mouth guard, a nose-clip, earplugs and thick rubber gloves each morning, you are bound to take in the sights, sounds and feel of the people, the music, the flavors, the pictures and the movement of each and every day. This is a good thing! It’s called “living.” How can we not be influenced by what we see and hear and smell and touch and taste each day?

How can the images we ultimately make NOT refer back to all those we have previously seen?

It doesn’t bother me if someone sees a nod to Levitt or Mann or Arbus or Cartier-Bresson in my work. What an honor. In fact, I feel like I am carrying the torch they lit, which was surely lit by people before them and which will hopefully be carried forward by others to come. No, I don’t want my work to look just like theirs, but I can’t help it if the seeds of my inspiration were planted by them. Their work (and the work of many others) informs mine. The challenge, of course, to take what they have given me and cultivate those thought processes in such a way that the new “plants” become my own.