think if you were to ask ten photographers to describe their artistic "vision" you would get ten completely different answers. So I won't bother to profess to have any special insight as to how other photographers see their world much less attempt to explain how their vision inspires them to get up in the morning. Rather, I will give you my own personal vision in the hope that you will have a better appreciation for those of us who persue an art medium that often does not get a lot of respect.
Like all artists, we art-photographers have a calling to produce works of art that, in the end, reveal more about us than the world we document. Trouble is, while few people can actually draw, much less paint, nearly everyone is a photographer of one sort or another. Combined with an historical bias of photography as craft, it makes for a situation where you are constantly needing to defend your art and why it is worthy of art status. The most damning thing is how good amateur photography can be! (Trust me, I have learned to appreciate how special amateurs are! After all, the word amateur derives from the Latin for "one who loves what they do")
I am fortunate in that today I don't need to pay the bills by selling my photography. It gives me the freedom to pursue my vision independently of having to consider the bottom line. This freedom translates into a joy in what I do. And joy begets passion.
However, it was not always so. Nearly 28 years ago I was a professional advertising photographer and I typically worked from 8:00am to midnight nearly every day doing shoots, working with makeup and models, as well as the putting in the ubiquitous darkroom time. I can tell you from direct experience that there is nothing like having to make a living at something you love to kill your desire for it. After four years of advertising photography I had to go cold turkey from photography. I literally didn't take a "serious" image for another 15 years. It wasn't until 1996 that I heard my calling again, this time without the fear of worrying about whether or not I would once again hate the very thing I loved. That year, I went out and bought a Linhof 4x5 view camera, thereby forcing myself to slow down and focus and relearn my lost love of this wonderful art medium. Using a view camera assists one in developing a zen outlook if only because it takes so long to set up, focus, compose, and create your image. Impatient photographers need not apply. Buying my Linhof has restored my artful soul.
A looming issue for all artists is "tightness" (the opposite of being loose) and large format cameras tend to make pictures that are just that. It is tough to be free and loose with a view camera! So a few years later I ponied up and purchased a Mamiya 7 medium format rangefinder camera with a single 65mm lens. Gone was the tightness of the previous years. I found my photography literally loosening up right in front of me. This also translated into a freedom to explore the "what if" of the digital darkroom. Could I learn to be loose with interpreting my negatives? Indeed I did. Inspired by my wife Liz's ability to turn an ordinary scene into an extraordinary pastel painting, I pushed myself to explore what could be done with everyday objects and scenes -- photographs that if printed "as is" would not get a second glance. These "girl next door" images became my cause célebré -- I vowed to turn them into dazzling beauties. And I have.
I soon developed a boldness with my photography in that I no longer had to strive to obtain the "perfect" shot. I would create perfection in the darkroom. And it is my darkroom work -- literally the ripping apart, manipulating, and coaxing of the images -- that is the hardest (yet most rewarding) aspect of my art form. The negative is mere clay to me. Many of my images literally take 6, 8, 10, or even 12 hours or more of darkroom work to bring to life. They are also huge in file size, often weighing in at 1 gigabyte or more each due to being composited of many layers. I am most proud that few people ever realize that my photographs are anything other than what I "shot" -- assuming that what I print is what was there in front of my camera. Nothing could be further from the truth. My pictures represent a believable unreality. However, I assure you that the resulting images are very much what I "saw" in my mind when I clicked the shutter. This has become my vision.
Needless to say, when you invest so much in something it is only natural that these works of art become like your offspring -- I cannot help but feel that my images are embued with part of my being, my DNA if you will. Like any mother hen, I will admit that I sometimes fret that the world will not appreciate my babies. But honestly, there is nothing more fulfilling than when another person expresses their appreciation for one of my creations by wishing to adopt them. It is this that I live for.
It all comes full circle. I now find myself once again working more and more with my Linhof. I have learned to appreciate its formality, its quite dignity. And I have come to appreciate how comfortable it can be with an old trusted friend. This summer I once again return to Ireland with my view camera to spend a few weeks capturing images of one of my favorite places on earth.
Being an artist is a very great thing indeed.
J Michael Sullivan
Marshfield Hills Massachusetts
March 2005