Dolly Sods Wilderness Area, West Virginia, November 2015.
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Dolly Sods Wilderness Area, West Virginia, November 2015.
My thing about being an Image Maker
I think we’re in this weird stage of generational creation where everyone thinks that the final product is it. That the final image is really all that happened, all that needs to be said and done. And I guess I just wanted to take a moment to say that what we do (as creatives) is more than just a final product. It’s a sentence. It’s a paragraph. It’s a whole fucking book. It’s chapters and layers of beauty, vulnerability, strength, fear. And sometimes…well…sometimes sentences or even pages don’t make the final edit. Sometimes you fuck up an entire shoot and you beat yourself up and think about a million ways something could have gone better: better location, better lighting, better models, a better you. And that’s okay! You’re allowed to think that way and think about what could have been but side bar this for me: The truth is that being an image maker isn’t about having a final product. I mean, it’s great to have a something that says “Hey, look what I did!” but I genuinely believe that being am image maker is about process, communication, the stories that you have made and the stories that will be told by you. I would much rather tell you how I met, interacted, laughed, cried and smiled with a model or subject on a shoot. I would much rather talk about the thought process behind why I shoot minimally and mainly do controlled situations. Because…at the end of the day, a photograph will say more about you than it does any fashion trend, any time or any place. It will say your mood, your thoughts, your fears. Not every image will be great. Not every shoot will be a success. But that’s really what’s so great about what we do: We can re-evaluate, critique and try again tomorrow.
At the end of the day, you’re just making pictures. It’s your process that will define your work and only you can define that process. Remember that.
1. White Cotton Grass growing along the boardwalk at the Cranberry Glades Botanical Area
2. The first of three waterfalls at the Falls of Hills Creek Scenic Area
Found along the Highland Scenic Highway in West Virginia, November 2015.
Fog rolls off the Ohio River and the Ravenswood Bridge that connects Ohio to West Virginia, October 2015.
One of my grandmother’s sunflowers, Scherr, West Virginia, August 2015.
A view from my plane window of Charleston, West Virginia, the little mountain city I moved to a couple months ago.
Horsetooth Rock, outside Fort Collins, Colorado, July 2015.
New River Gorge, Fayetteville, West Virginia, July 2015.
SuAnn Huffman (left) and Beverly Lawrence (right) enjoying the breeze before a storm blew through, Charleston, West Virginia, June 2015.
Late night fire alarm at One Morris Apartments. Charleston, WV, June 2015.
Shelby, Maysel, West Virginia, June 2015.
A photo from a visit with my grandparents this past Memorial Day weekend, May 2015. Merl, who I call pappy, turned 83-years-old on Saturday, May 23. He’s an avid gardener, a Korean War Veteran, and a reserved jokester. He has certainly seen better days, as old age has been taking a harsh toll on him this year, but he fights through it all. Various internships have kept me away from him and my grandmother, Ruth, for long stretches of time. Examining how time has had an effect on my grandfather’s life is a remind of how precious the tiny amount of time I get with him is (and with any of my family members). I am thankful to be living much closer now that I have relocated to West Virginia.
Macee and the my family’s new pigs, Scherr, West Virginia, May 2015.
Mom and Jim, Charleston, West Virginia, May 2015.
Black plume of smoke from a destroyed abandoned strip club, Flint, Michigan, April 22, 2015.
Sleeping Bear Dunes National Park, Empire, Michigan, April 2015.
When I ask to photograph someone, it is because I love the way they look and I think I make that clear. I’m paying them a tremendous compliment. What I’m saying is, I want to take you home with me and look at you for the rest of my life.
Amy Arbus (via leegrantphoto)