Every so often, I come across a photograph that I know I wouldn’t have cared much about years ago.
Nothing dramatic is happening. The light may not be spectacular. There may not even be an obvious subject, as I once expected a photograph to have one. And yet I keep looking at it.
That has been happening to me more often lately.
It makes me wonder if my taste in photography is changing faster than my photography is.
I suppose we expect our photographs to change as we gain experience. We learn more about composition, light, timing, editing, printing, and all the technical things that come with spending years behind a camera. What I hadn’t thought much about is how quietly our taste changes along the way.
There are photographs I would have loved years ago that don’t hold my attention quite as long today. They aren’t bad photographs. I haven’t suddenly discovered something wrong with them. They simply don’t affect me in the same way anymore.
Maybe you’ve noticed something similar when looking back at your own photography. An image you once considered a favorite can still be good, yet somehow you’ve moved in a different direction.
Then there are photographs I might once have passed right by that now make me stop.
Why?
I’m not always sure.
Maybe that’s the interesting part.
Technique gives me fairly obvious signs of improvement. Looking at an older photograph, I can see where I would compose it differently today. Changes in the way I handle light or process an image are easier to recognize.
Taste is harder to pin down.
It seems to move around while I’m not paying attention.
Lately, I find myself spending more time with quieter photographs. A composition I once thought was too simple suddenly seems just right. Something I would have considered empty can now feel restrained. What I once thought needed more may actually be stronger because there is less.
And then comes the awkward part.
I like what I’m seeing, but I don’t necessarily know how to make it.
I find that fascinating.
Have you ever looked at a photograph and immediately liked it but couldn’t quite explain why? I think those are worth paying attention to. Sometimes our eyes recognize something before we know what to do with it ourselves.
After all these years, I can still look at someone else’s photograph and think, There’s something happening here that I understand when I see it, but I’m not sure I could make it myself.
That doesn’t bother me. In fact, I rather like it.
It means there are still places for me to go with photography.
The temptation would be to imitate whatever has caught my attention. If I suddenly find myself drawn to a certain kind of photograph, I could start chasing similar subjects, compositions, or processing. But copying the appearance wouldn’t necessarily tell me what attracted me to it in the first place.
I’d rather give it some time.
Maybe the change will eventually appear in my own photographs without me forcing it. A little less here. A different choice there. Perhaps I’ll start noticing subjects I wouldn’t have considered before. Maybe I’ll frame something differently and only realize afterward that I wouldn’t have made that photograph five years ago.
I suspect that’s how much of this happens.
There’s no announcement. No moment when I decide I’m entering some new phase of photography.
The eye moves first.
The camera follows later.
I actually like the distance between the two.
If everything I admired was something I already knew how to make, photography could become awfully predictable. I’d simply keep producing variations of what I already understood.
I don’t want that.
It might be interesting sometime to look through a few of your older photographs without asking whether they were good or bad. Instead, ask a simpler question:
Would I make this photograph today?
I’ve been asking myself something along those lines lately.
I like discovering that my own taste can still get ahead of me. It gives me something to think about without turning photography into an assignment. I don’t have to immediately understand what is changing or decide where it’s leading.
For now, I can just pay attention.
Maybe months from now I’ll look through my photographs and suddenly recognize that something has shifted.
I’m curious to see what it is.
More Thoughts
- Images That Changed How I See
- The Things I Keep Walking Past
- When Advice Becomes a Substitute for Seeing
* Photograph taken at the Trans-Allegheny Lunatic Asylum, formerly Weston State Hospital, in Weston, West Virginia.
