A seemingly long time ago, (or more recently, depending on how you view the passage of time these days) I had the temerity to assemble a photographic project entitled Fifty, a collection of my fifty best photographs – up until that point in my life. The motivation was the celebration of my fiftieth birthday. As I assembled the project I thought a lot about the selection process. Here’s what I came up with.
How rare is a great photograph? With the almost limitless number of factors that influence the outcome of a photograph, it is a wonder that good photographs exist. Consider the variables involved in making any photograph (especially the film and prints that made up Fifty). Timing is everything – remember f/8 and be there? In the real world, everything happens only once (and often too quickly). There is no instant replay in life. This is even true in photographing the landscape. Despite protestations from the uninitiated, the decisive moment also exists in landscape photography.
The answer to the question “How rare is a good photograph?” finally came to me. I look back on the work included for the collection of fifty images and cumulatively, they account for no more than ten seconds exposed film over thirty years. Good photographs are that rare.
While great photographs are rare, that should not be a cause for despair or lack of motivation. You can never tell when the next great photograph will be made. It very well might be the next time to pick up your camera to photograph.
The front porch of a house on Fort Vancouver's Officer's Row. This photograph showed up in two projects, The Pattern of Shadows and as a photograph in the Fifty Project. I had not included the Fifty Project in the original updated design of my website because it was set up as a web gallery using software that was fifteen years old. I am still undecided if I get a "do-over" on this project because of the effort required to re-digitize and process the original negatives. The philosophical/practical question to be answered is whether I would rather spend my time working on something very old, or working on something new. The jury has yet to render a verdict.
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