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An Excerpt from a Letter….

Apr 3

In Rambling, Thoughts at 7:44am

I’ve been corresponding with a young photog, currently in the military, and about to take steps in civilian life. He’s been writing me articulate letters, filled with questions, trying his best to sort out the ongoing mystery of why we do something we continue to suck at most of the time. Not just do it, but love it. He’s had a couple tours in Iraq, and is currently stationed in Asia. A new life is looming, and he’s trying to make a sensible plan for a future in photography, which of course is a future that will defy logic and any measure of common sense. He’s passionate and talented, and wondering which way to go.

I said I’ve been corresponding. That’s quite generous. I’ve been a lousy letter writer. So many times I’ve wanted to respond, and events, an airplane or just plain sleep overtook me. I finally made a stab at a mildly complete answer to his archive of letters, and below is a piece of it. His persistent, thoughtful questions brought me back to a day when I might have made my first successful picture.

You made the choice to follow a photographic path sometime ago, and have followed that path with zeal and passion. That pursuit is something we share, to be sure. When I “found” photography, it drew me like nothing I had ever experienced. Up to that time, I was completely non-committal in all aspects of my life. Indifferent in school, a so-so athlete, just another beer drinking college kid, out there on Marshall St. Never thought about logging the 10,000 hours with anything and certainly hadn’t encountered one thing at that time that seemed to warrant that kind of effort.

But photography! Now this was something that involved the head, heart and hands in equal measure. This was balance. This needed no explanation or defense. It needed to be done. It required work. It became the focus of my life. And, a bit like a big rock blocking the way of the stream and roiling the waters, it has stayed there, in my consciousness, day and night, mocking me, taunting my relentlessly puny efforts. Day after day, year after year, I have gone after that rock, methodically, but sometimes with a vengeance, using the camera in my hands as one would wield a sledge, hoping to break it to bits, crack it open, find the gleaming secret within and thus finally obtain smooth portage.

You know what? After all my blood, sweat and tears, it still sits there, smiling at me. My encounters with it now are more conversational than rage filled and intense. We’ve come to an understanding, I think. I will pass from this earth and it will still be there, ready to taunt the next young pup with a camera in his hands and some big ideas. But there’s an unspoken agreement between the two of us that there were days I hit it hard enough to break off a couple of decent size pieces. I gave it a decent go, in other words. It’s all we can do.

Part of the pull of course is that photography involves an all out effort. You have to be at the top of the ladder for the best angle, not the middle. You don’t do it from the side of the road. You leave the car behind, climb the guardrail, and go out there to get in the middle of whatever you’re looking at. You walk into the village or the farm or the life of those in question. You get off the interstate, and, as Jay Maisel says, you walk—slowly. It’s a credential to life’s events you put around your neck that gets you past the barriers that hem in and corral the others. In return, it demands that you risk things—life, limb, emotions, embarrassment, failure, sometimes all at once. It seeks only the most ardent, passionate of suitors, and even then this fickle art and craft turns veiled eyes and offers the barest wisps of approval and acceptance, and those, only occasionally.

And I accepted that slim invitation, long ago, sometimes to my regret or comeuppance. I have failed, been broke down and wept for my own ineptitude. I have given up and given in. I have railed against the apparent injustice (to me) of others, be they editors, subjects, readers, friends or family that they seemingly don’t take this as seriously as I do. I have tired of explaining myself. I’m exhausted from imploring for just a bit more of an open door, just a bit more time. I mean, don’t they see? Don’t they know this is important? If you let me just do this, together we then create something that will outlast us, and isn’t that the fucking point?

Strangely enough, lots of folks out there have found my insistence and persistence odd, or even irritating. Put smiley face here.

You asked me once what photo started it all for me. For you it was your Auschwitz photo, the reflection on the floor. You also noted other high moments. The giraffe in Tanzania, and the soldier by the sunlit doorway. Those are all far more eloquent than anything I shot in my early years. My canvas was small as a photo student. Syracuse, NY, not the savannas of Africa. I turned, as a spectator at a football game, and saw an acquaintance about to go full throttle with a yell. I took my Nikkormat, loaded with Tri-x and a 135mm f2.8 lens and put it to my eye, and swung the focus to critical and hit the shutter at the absolute crescendo of whatever verbal abuse he was hurling at the opposition. It was the first time my camera felt like an extension of my hands. My fingers had flown (for once) to the right places, and moved the infernal dials and buttons in exquisite concert. It was one frame. I sat down and stared at the camera. And I don’t remember a single thing about the rest of that day.

More tk….

56 Responses to “An Excerpt from a Letter….”

Ellen says:

on April 7, 2012 at 7:34 am

An incredible letter, thank you for writing it. Hopefully you have inspired him to truly be all that he can be. It took me years of struggling with life,job,children,home trying to find time for a few shots to hone my skill. But unfortunately, photography is like golf unless you play everyday you do not improve only stay the same. All to quick my children grew up and my life slowed down and then I heard the camera call again. Beckoning me with its shutter call, challenging me to try to tame its dials and harness the light to create something different. In my heart I knew I was late to the game, old dog new tricks and all that. But the shots I see in my head want to be expressed. So, I rallied to the challenge, picked up my camera and get frustrated at my inability. So my answer to my combat my inadequacies is to study and read and try again. And every once in awhile the photo Gods bless me with a shot that almost tells the tale in my mind. It keeps me coming back for more. By the way, I also hail from right outside Syracuse, on the shore of the Great Lake is where I call home. My husband went to Nottingham HS.

Mike Nelson Pedde says:

on April 9, 2012 at 12:29 am

Joe: Photography has been an avocation of mine for more than forty years, and at times it’s helped out in my wildlife biology work. I’ll never forget the following…

Back in 1980 I was working on a project to study the effects of spraying a new insecticide to control spruce budworm. Much of this included taking samples of insects and other critters before and after spraying to compare the populations. I’ll let you know when we get to the exciting part. My boss was a really nice guy – didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, didn’t swear… One night the two of us were out in POURING rain, with a flashlight that worked fine if it was pointed up (but shut off when it was pointed down so we could see what we were doing), collecting these tiny flies with a pair of tweezers out of plastic buckets we’d set up underneath flowering trees and putting the flies into litle vials of alcohol (to be counted and ID later). My boss turned to me at one point and said, “You know Mike, sometimes I wonder why I love this f___ing job.” I thought, “Yup. That sums it up right there.”


Rob Heller says:

on April 10, 2012 at 9:19 pm

Hi Joe. I’m not sure why, but I remember that photo of the yelling fan. It reminds me how powerful photos can be in bringing us back in time. I can remember most of the important photos I’ve shot over the last 45 years or so. Syracuse was (and is) a great breeding ground for photographers. I’ll never forget the sense of community we had at the photo lab at Newhouse. With over 30 years of teaching, I’ve tried to recreate that sense of community for my students. Keep up the great work.

Dave Dantos says:

on April 14, 2012 at 11:06 am

Wow, Joe. Just…wow. Talk about hitting the nail on the head. I have emailed several photog friends, and referred them to this blog entry. I am particularly struck by your comment that others just don’t understand the importance of what you (we) do. So very, very true. Please keep shooting, writing and creating videos, Joe. You are an inspiration to us all.

David Henkins says:

on February 1, 2013 at 10:08 pm

I know I’m very late to this post, but I’ve been going back and reading through your blog. I’ve been a fan of yours for awhile though. The reason I chose to respond to this thread is because I too am an Army Vet, and during the military is when my passion for photography started to take. As a young guy, trying to make it in the photography world now, hoping to someday do it for a living, this really hit home with me. So thank you for sharing it with us all.

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