The Trap of Habitual Seeing
In The Slow Approach, we share individual perspectives on what it means to slow down, and how doing so can have a positive effect on our experiences as well as the images we capture.
“Photography, if practiced with high seriousness, is a contest between a photographer and the presumptions of approximate and habitual seeing.”
I recently spent a few days in the Adirondack Mountains of upstate New York to explore and revel in the peace and solitude of the northern woods in November. However, a recent snowfall rendered the scene more December-like than November. No matter. On my first morning I made the short hike to a pond I had visited once before but never photographed. I was pleased to find beautifully snow-dusted trees and a calm surface to the pond. After working the scene for a bit I heard noises in the woods behind me, probably a hundred yards away. Thinking that it was possibly a deer or a bear I began to make some noise as I worked. When the noise continued I peered through the trees and glimpsed a figure in orange, motionless. A hunter. I took stock of what I was wearing: khaki colored pants and a black jacket. A cap with antlers would have completed the outfit perfectly. Fool. My fear that it may be a bear was replaced by an even greater fear of getting shot. Eventually he came by, nodded, and continued on his way. Needless to say I was somewhat distracted after that as I was left contemplating just how much noise I was going to need to make on the hike out.
Unsettling encounters with hunters aside, perhaps the main reason I enjoy these multi-day forays into nature is that it affords me an opportunity to reflect and think. I am free of the daily minutiae that dominates and distracts when at home. Ideas flow forth that leave me contemplating and wondering. Personally meaningful photographs, on the other hand, well, sometimes yes and sometimes no. Lately I’ve been thinking a great deal about hindrances to seeing and creativity and the above quote by John Szarkowski. That morning at the pond turned out to be a classic example of habitual seeing.
“Familiarity may increase the probability of coming away with a “good” photo, but it can be the bane of creativity”
While it’s not completely evident what Szarkowski meant when he described habitual seeing, I interpret it as a tendency to notice the same things and photograph them in the same way, of following “previously established routes,” as Huntington Witherill has said. Aside from being moved by the obvious beauty when I arrived at the pond, I immediately recognized the challenge in front of me. How was I to produce a unique (to me) and creative photo from something so familiar? I have seen and photographed snowy trees and their reflections before, in terms of subject matter there was little that was new. Sure, the location was different, but that matters little to me. Complicating matters is that I felt a need to rush out of fear that at any moment the wind would pick up and disturb the textured reflections. As any seasoned photographer will attest, rushing is the enemy to proper seeing and feeling. I detest working frantically for this very reason. The aforementioned run-in with the hunter was another distraction that proved difficult to overcome. And finally, I admit to feeling a bit lazy, something I struggled with the entire few days. I was simply thrilled to be out in the beautiful woods; making photos almost felt like a bother at times. All of these factors had the combined effect of preventing me from entering into the optimum frame of mind for creativity.
Morning Light on Winch Pond / Chris Murray
I have included four photos I made that morning that illustrate the difficulties I was experiencing in seeing creatively. Personally, I define creativity as the production of something novel and of value. It is not so much a product of technique, but rather of seeing. I ask myself, would another photographer standing next to me notice the same thing? The image above is the first I made and easily the least creative of the bunch, a fairly typical and obvious wide-angle view that employs the familiar compositional templates of foreground, leading lines, and rule of thirds. It is well-trodden territory, aesthetically pleasing, yet creatively lacking. Worse, there is nothing in it that is unique to me, that expresses my reaction to the scene, what I was experiencing and feeling. I regard the cover photo and photo below similarly. I have photographed similar scenes in the past in much the same way. Certainly another photographer would have noticed the beautiful reflections of the snow-dusted trees as well as the trees themselves. My decision to render the scene in black-and-white may earn me some creativity points, though even that I consider a somewhat obvious way of presenting the scene. By the time I made the final photo I had begun to slow down and put the distraction of the hunter behind me. I began to worry less about results and instead concentrated on how fortunate I was to be in that spot at that moment, the combined effects of which are reflected in the photo. Creativity being a matter of degree rather than an either/or proposition, I believe this photo to be a more creative expression of the scene in front of me than the others. Had another photographer been present I’m fairly certain they would not have captured it in the same way. Ultimately, however, I don’t feel any photo I made that morning at the pond adequately explored any new creative and expressive territory. You win some, you lose some. Accepting failure is part and parcel of being an artist.
Snow Dusted Trees / Chris Murray
My point here is that the truly passionate and serious photographer who aspires to personal growth and self-discovery needs to be conscious of such traps. Familiarity may increase the probability of coming away with a “good” photo, but it can be the bane of creativity. By familiarity I don’t necessarily mean locations or subject matter. Rather, are you seeing subjects in the same familiar way and/or employing the same familiar techniques over and over? Are you seeing beyond what you’ve done in the past and imagining new ways of expression, or is it just the same old same old? We need to be honest with ourselves if we are to grow as artists. It’s not about the subject matter, it’s about us. We needn’t always seek out new things. To quote Ernst Haas, “I am not interested in shooting new things, I am interested to see things new.”
Shoreline Vignette / Chris Murray
