This question has been on my mind a lot lately. I’m not sure why. It must have something to do with my deconstruction of this work that I’m making now. I’m trying to find ways to describe it that mean something sensible and accessible.
Is it a derogatory term (conceptual photography)? Does it imply that I think about making pictures and you don’t? What does it really mean? Are all photographs conceptual? Or are all photographs made impulsively? Can photography speak for itself? Are you an artist who deals with ideas, or are you a photographer who knows about your machine? How do you approach making photographs? Artist? Photographer?
Let me define how I understand conceptual photography. If you have an idea that you want to make a picture about, you’ve started the conceptual process. If you get into the weeds, you might even sketch out this idea on a piece of paper. It might contain elements that must be included, or, a certain way it must be lighted or composed. There may be important elements that aren’t seen in the actual image, too. Things like the place, time (a certain date for example), or other elements that aren’t known by looking at the photograph.
Every other morning, my wife and I go for a walk around the mountain. We live on top of a mesa - the loop we walk is about 2 miles. During that walk, usually, early in the morning, I have a chance to think. I hear the wildlife, I see the crows and horses and I go back in time, at least for an instant. And I can see Sun Mountain. I think about the Ute looking at the very scene I’m looking at. It’s profound at times. It moves me. The ideas about my photographs usually come to me during these walks, or they are solidified during that time. It’s almost a form of meditation for me.
In this project (In the Shadow of Sun Mountain), I’ve constructed images (see Medicine Wheel). That would be the classic definition of conceptual photography. I’ve also built a Ute Lodge or Wickiup. I’ve made some images of it, but none that I want to use. I’ll keep working on that one. I read as much as I can about the history of the Ute (Tabeguache band) that lived here. These readings usually produce an idea for an image.
“Medicine Wheel” Whole Plate Palladiotype from a wet collodion negative.
I’m interested in connecting the idea of the technical elements to the concept of the work. I want to elaborate, visually, on the historical events. This is difficult to do because the viewer can’t see that you’re using a period lens and creating work referencing that time period, as an example.
Concepts are ideas based on something definite or a set of abstract thoughts manifested in materials - in this case, photographs. By definition, all of my images are conceptual. I’m working within a certain framework to tell a story. I think the ultimate conceptual photographer of our time would be Joel Peter Witkin or maybe Gregory Crewdson. You should look at their work if you’re not familiar with them.
In theory, you could say that all commercial photography is conceptual. And you’d be correct, at least in the strictest of definitions. I think that personal art pictures diverge from those strict definitions and allow for some abstractness and mystery while staying within a certain narrative. Commercial photographs can never do that. They need to communicate one clear message - buy this! Fine art, or personal art, doesn’t function like that.
How do you make a picture? Most people, or photographers, “go out looking for something to photograph”. They literally hunt for images. While there is certainly nothing wrong with this, it’s the 180-degree (opposite) approach to conceptual photography. It’s true, you can “hunt” for images within a certain narrative, but you are still working from a conceptual point of view - at least to some degree.
“Medicine Wheel & Antlers” Plate #111 -Whole Plate Kallitype from a wet collodion negative.
I worked as a photojournalist for many years. I would literally hunt for photographs every day. I had nothing in mind, I would simply look for something interesting that would make a good feature picture. Or, if I had a specific assignment, I would look for ways to communicate the story idea in the picture. Of course, those were someone else’s stories, not mine. I have a book called, “The Great Picture Hunt” by Dave LaBelle. He worked at the same newspaper that I did. He was a great photographer. His book literally defines what I’m talking about here.
Making good pictures is very difficult. More difficult than most think. The words, “well observed” come to mind. For me, a good photograph is like a painting. If you study it, you can see if the maker is really observing and thinking, or randomly making pictures, and relying on “luck” (there is an element of serendipity that I embrace, just for the record). And then there’s derivative work. That seems to be prevalent in photography today. To be influenced is one thing, to copy is another.
I think a big part of making good pictures is making original work - your work. Even if people don’t like it or understand it, it’s your work. Don’t let social media and the number of followers or “likes” influence what you think is good. Work that you know supports your narrative, is good. Of course, be open to good constructive feedback, but don’t be swayed to change the work to be “accepted” or “popular”. That approach will be short-lived and you’ll regret it.
“Medicine Wheel #3” Whole Plate Palladiotype from a wet collodion negative.
When it comes to my photographs, I’m my toughest critic. There are certain elements that have to be in the image for me to like it or to include them in my story. I do my best to incorporate those elements or ideas, but most of the time they fail - I have about a 10% success rate in image making.
I try to spend a lot of time thinking about what will best support the narrative - the most powerful or interesting way to communicate an idea through a photograph. I try to stay away from the literal and work closer to the “implied” image. I like to suggest more than overstate. Or at least I try. I want to leave some room for poetry and mystery but still tell the story. I like how the painters of 300 - 500 years ago would embed little symbols or personal references in their paintings. Johannes Vermeer’s, “The Music Lesson” comes to mind. That’s always stayed with me. I think all of this rests on the conceptual side of image-making.
That’s my definition of conceptual photography. At least it’s how I view what I do, or how I work. In the end, titles and names are kind of meaningless unless we have a good grip on what we’re talking about. Sometimes, these exercises give us a vocabulary or a way to talk about things that we couldn’t articulate before.
I like to deconstruct things and find what’s at the core of them. The reasons, the motivation, etc. What makes human beings act the way they do? That’s what interests me the most. Making picture stories, as abstract as they may be, helps me find my center and my reason, and alludes to some answers about why we’re here and what we should be doing.
My current project isn’t a documentary about the Ute tribe, or about the Colorado landscape. It’s an investigation or exploration of human behavior - it represents the beauty and tragedy of humanity and place. It does have historical references, but it’s an examination of the landscape, plants, objects, and symbols that represent the people that lived here and the horrible events of the past. It is, in fact, conceptual and in a lot of ways abstract. I find myself at the center of the work. In other words, it’s my conflict with what happened here and reconciling my privilege of living here, and they’re not. That, for me, is a difficult thing to deal with.
My biggest concern is that people will conflate what I’m doing with “historical record”. It’s not that, at least not in the truest sense of the phrase. The purpose of this work is to open up a conversation about the way we treat people who are different from us - the way we “other” people. It’s the core of my work. And it always has been.
I need to make sure people who see this project when it’s finished, understand the context and know what my intentions were in making the photographs. I’m confident, that those who understand these ideas will find some value in the work. At least that’s my hope.
“Meadow Barley”, “Deer Antlers” and “Medicine Wheel” - “In the Shadow of Sun Mountain” -