Every so often people ask me why I choose to work in the 19th-century world of photography. They assume it’s to get attention in the digital world (Facebook and Instagram) we live in. Why would I choose to work in processes that are (somewhat) difficult, (sometimes) dangerous, and very labor-intensive? Processes where the failure rate far outweighs the success rate. Why do this when you have a “high-resolution color camera” in your pocket ( your phone) and can click and slide your way into making “art”? It doesn’t make sense to a lot of people. And I understand why.
The answer isn’t easy but I’ll try to give you a couple of reasons why I do what I do. There's a book that I recommended on my YouTube show a few months ago called, "Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance" by Robert M. Pirsig. A quote I really like from the book says, “You are never dedicated to something you have complete confidence in. No one is fanatically shouting that the sun is going to rise tomorrow. They know it's going to rise tomorrow. When people are fanatically dedicated to political or religious faiths or any other kinds of dogmas or goals, it's always because these dogmas or goals are in doubt.” That really resonates with me. It’s one of the reasons I keep doing what I do. After 20 years of working in historic processes and almost 40 years in photography, I still doubt, I still fail, I still strive and there is so much I don’t know. It does keep me going. It challenges me. There’s a lot of purpose and meaning for me in what I do.
Another book I recently recommended is called, “Meaning in Life: A Therapist's Guide” by Clara Hill, PhD. She talks about how to find meaning and significance in your life through achievements and failures. Moreover, she clarifies what meaning and significance are; hint, it’s not money or fame. It goes to Ernest Becker’s theories on death anxiety and death denial. He said, "Man cannot endure his own littleness unless he can translate it into meaningfulness on the largest possible level.” (Ernest Becker, The Denial of Death). We are hard-wired to want to live forever and we know we won’t. That creates a big problem. Have you ever heard of someone having an existential crisis? One way to deal with death anxiety (knowing that you are going to die) is finding meaning and significance in your life. I find a lot of that in my work and in the act of creating my work.
Susan Sontag (On Photography, 1977) said, “All photographs are memento mori. To take a photograph is to participate in another person’s (or thing’s) mortality, vulnerability, mutability. Precisely by slicing out this moment and freezing it, all photographs testify to time’s relentless melt.” There are many ways to interpret that quote. First, “memento mori” is the knowledge that you are going to die. Mortality; the state of being subject to death. And knowing that no one or nothing can stop time, we literally march toward death whether we want to or not. Making photographs, and photographs themselves, remind us of this fact. Death reminders are everywhere. I believe the more we deal with our mortality, the more we’ll make of the time we have to be alive. We’ll be motivated to find meaning and significance. I know it works for me.