Robert Frank and the Source of What is Good
Before long I will turn this Substack into a platform for asking readers outside the US about the easiest countries to emigrate to. I've heard Canada is harder to move to than people think. I love Mexico, but I don't do well in the heat. What about the mountains of Colombia? Copenhagen? Anyway, until then, let's talk about some photographs.
Some time ago, I wrote about an incident where Todd Hido ruined one of my photographs (No I have not received an apology). In that post, I mentioned a scene I felt compelled to photograph: a car under a cover in front of an interesting little house by a lake. I was drawn to take that photo because, unconsciously at the time, I was influenced by one of my heroes, Robert Frank, and his photograph of a covered car from The Americans. While there are probably photos of cars under covers from before his time, I think Frank's photo is exceptional and shapes how I react to such scenes.
I'm not alone in this fascination. Just search #undercovercars on Instagram to see many more examples. Of course, it's not JUST Frank's photograph that drives this interest. There's something mysterious about a covered anything. In my photograph, for instance, I'm almost certain the undercover car is a Corvette based on its shape, and for some reason, I like knowing that. Multiple factors come into play with these photos, but for many of us, seeing these covered cars triggers an association with "good" photographs.
The Americans is likely the source for many similar examples. For me, it probably sparked my interest in flags in photographs, especially the American flag. It could also be a major reason why people love road photographs, gas stations, jukeboxes, big American cars, and so on, and so on, forever.
Frank's photograph of his wife in the ocean in the rain (possibly my favorite photograph) and Mitch Epstein's photo of his father in a pond have shaped my strong reaction to photos of people in the water. I love them and tend to think they are good. Frank’s photograph of the streetcar in New Orleans probably (definitely) influenced my series of people on buses, even if I wasn’t thinking of it specifically when I started.
I've been thinking about iconic photos and how they influence what we see in new photographs. For instance, can you walk past a small abandoned tricycle without feeling compelled to take a picture of it? I don't even particularly like that photograph, but Eggleston did, and I sure as hell like him. In fact, Eggleston is probably as responsible as anyone for shaping our collective sense of what makes a good photo, and even how we perceive the value of certain colors in photographs. An old friend and roommate once painted his walls red, and I remember photographing his bedroom walls, now realizing that Eggleston likely influenced my perception that red walls make for a good photograph.
This influence could be detrimental to my creativity, and when I was less aware of it, it probably was. Trying to recreate photos by Ansel Adams, Edward Weston, or whatever photos shaped your sense of good photography is usually futile, but being aware of these influences allows you to use them as a guide, pushing yourself to make the photos your own. I still catch myself thinking, "How would Alec Soth shoot this?" and I think that's okay. Everyone builds on what came before, and I enjoy looking back at my photos, recognizing periods when I aimed for photographs that looked like they were by Harvey Wang or Mary Ellen Mark.
Ultimately, I want to avoid using these photographs as the sole measure of what I consider good, and hopefully by staying aware and open-minded, I can allow new work from other photographers to shape my perceptions of what is good.
That might be easier said than done but at least I’m thinking about it a lot when I look at new work.
That’s all for now—I just saw a burning farmhouse behind a pumpkin patch that I want to photograph.
Thanks for reading,
Travis
While writing this I was listening to
Well said. I believe that the more we look at other people's work the better we become, mostly because in your internal library you can reference, combine, feel what makes you react in a certain way to a scene or setting. You can then proceed to make your own version. Even if you do your utmost to 'copy' a previously made photograph, there is always something different. Don't be afraid of that. We all stand on the shoulders of others, if not, we would still be trying to figure out how to rub two sticks together to make fire, over and over and over again. Be inspired. It is a good thing!
Here's my bunker philosophy: Just shoot, and let God sort the pics out.