all photos ~ (embiggenable)
THERE WAS A TIME WHEN I ACTUALLY CONSIDERED converting all of my photographs into the snapshot look. That idea sprang from my thoughts, re: the pomposity of many practitioners / critics / academics toiling under the banner of “fine art” photography–sorta my gut reaction to blurt out, “Get over it. They’re just f–––ing pictures.” Needless to write, I got over the impulse but, when rooting around in my image files–10K +– while prepping materials for my gallery presentation, a snapshot related thought re-emerged from the past re: longevity.
Estimating that there are approximately 200-300 really good fine art “keepers” in my library of the hang-them-on-a-wall quality, I was given to wondering how many of them would be around, say, 5-10 years after my departure from the planet.
While I have had some modest success selling my work–prints and POD photo books–those photographs might have a longer longevity life span than my keeper image files which might not be so lucky. One exception are the significant number of POD photo books I have created inasmuch as they are easier objects to hang on to. That written, perhaps it’s time to write an end-of-life directive stating what I would like to be preserved / passed on to family.
Be all of that as it may, the snapshot thought that recently occurred to me was about a very large Tupperware-like storage container sitting in our attic that contains 300+ (or more, who’s counting) Polaroid family-oriented snapshots that have survived for close to 60 years. I have very little doubt that they will continue to survive for a very long time, perhaps even multi-generation wise. Those photographs–unlike my most fine art work–are apt to be cherished memento.
That written, I truly believe that the best photographs ever made are those made by the “nameless picture makers” cuz, when you come right down to it, they are just f…king pictures .….
Of all the world’s photographers, the lowliest and least honored is the simple householder who desires only to “have a camera around the house” and to “get a picture of Dolores in her graduation gown.” He lugs his primitive equipment with him on vacation trips, picnics, and family outings of all sorts. His knowledge of photography is about that of your average chipmunk. He often has trouble loading his camera, even after owning it for twenty years. Emulsion speeds, f-stops, meter readings, shutter speeds have absolutely no meaning to him, except as a language he hears spoken when, by mistake, he wanders into a real camera store to buy film instead of his usual drugstore. His product is almost always people- or possession-oriented. It rarely occurs to such a photographer to take a picture of something, say a Venetian fountain, without a loved one standing directly in front of it and smiling into the lens. What artistic results he obtains are almost inevitably accidental and totally without self-consciousness. Perhaps because of his very artlessness, and his very numbers, the nameless picture maker may in the end be the truest and most valuable recorder of our times. He never edits; he never editorializes; he just snaps away and sends the film off to be developed, all the while innocently freezing forever the plain people of his time in all their lumpishness, their humanity, and their universality. ~ Jean Shepherd