For over a year I have wanted to invite someone to pose for portraits among the trees in my favorite woods, Wolsfeld Woods. But I didn’t ask anyone until last week when the weekly challenge in my online 52Frames photography group was “Face a Fear.”
I decided that it was time to face this fear and asked my yoga teacher whether she would be willing to pose for portraits in the woods. With the weather turning colder and a mild weather forecast for the weekend, this would probably be the last opportunity to do a photo shoot with a model in Wolsfeld Woods this year.
Face a Fear
She said, “Yes,” and we went out to the woods and did a photo shoot on Sunday. But between the time that we planned the photo shoot early in the week and Sunday, I was quite nervous. Would I find ways to express my ideas? What did I want to accomplish?
For me, this kind of fear is a strange mix of anticipatory judgment and uncertainty about whether my work will meet my expectations, fear that it won’t be any good, along with a strong belief that I don’t have interesting creative ideas.
“In large measure becoming an artist consists of learning to accept yourself, which makes your work personal, and in following your own voice, which makes your work distinctive.”
― Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking
There is another challenge with doing photo shoots with models. In order to be successful I have to move from a passive, receptive role into a more active role of both directing the action and conveying my vision to the model. If I don’t have a clear vision of what I’m looking for, then I cannot communicate that to the model.
I really really struggle being directive in photo shoots. And I also struggled with defining my vision for the Wolsfeld Woods photo shoot. The best I could come up with was, “I want to convey how these woods make me feel — the wondrous beauty and sacredness I experience there.” I wasn’t sure if that was enough to base a photo shoot on.
A Familiar Kind of Fear
When I spent 3 months in Hawaii in 2012-2013, I did a photo shoot with Akiko, the owner of the B&B where I stayed. During the photo shoot I found it almost impossible to tell her what to do during the photo shoot. Fortunately with her background as a dancer and in teaching theater at a university in Honolulu, she began moving and posing herself. Finally after about 20 minutes of this, she said impatiently to me, “You know, you can tell me what to do.”
A photo from my first photo shoot with Akiko, this pose was all her idea
“Duh!” I thought, but still I found it difficult to tell her what I was looking for, probably because I wasn’t sure myself. It was clear that I hadn’t thought about what the purpose of our photo shoot would be and when it came down to photographing Akiko, my nervousness kept me from generating any ideas during the photo shoot. I actually liked a lot of the images I created during the photo shoot, but they had no deeper meaning for me because the ideas had not come from me.
After the photo shoot I thought about how I would like to remember Akiko and my time at her Buddhist B&B and how I could take a more active part in directing a photo shoot. I realized that one of the most meaningful things about my stay at Akiko’s B&B were the meditation sessions in her Zendo.
There were early morning and evening meditation sessions with a small local group of attendees. At each session we sat Zazen for 20 minutes, did a short walking meditation and repeated two more 20 minute Zazen sits with walking meditation in between. Finally we ended each session with chanting. Akiko’s chant voice was deep and resonant and I always felt a deep sense of presence when she chanted. A couple of weeks after the first photo shoot I asked her if she would be willing to do another photo shoot in the Zendo wearing her Zen meditation clothing.
It was a totally different experience because I was clear about what was important to me. I still had a lot to learn about portrait photography then (and today). But it was highly satisfying for me to take an active part in planning and directing the shoot instead of passively waiting for whatever happened.
While the first photograph of Akiko shown in this post may be more dramatic, the second carries more personal meaning for me. It tells a story and evokes a memory that lives in my heart.
“The only work really worth doing — the only work you can do convincingly — is the work that focuses on the things you care about. To not focus on those issues is to deny the constants in your life.”
― Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking
Risk Taking
Every time I commit to a project, whether it is a photography project or an art project, there is risk involved. The project may not turn out as I hope. I may lose interest and not finish the project. Ideas that seem brilliant in my mind, often look less brilliant upon execution. I could fail to express something interesting and unique. And I may feel disappointed in my results.
I’ve usually experienced all of these feelings and more when I first complete a photo project. But I’ve learned that if I give it a few days (sometimes it takes weeks or months) I will see the work in a more balanced way.
While I feel that I still haven’t expressed what I hoped to express about Wolsfeld Woods with this series of images, I am happy with the way they turned out.
After viewing the photos and working with them all week I found new ways to combine and layer the images to help evoke more of the feelings I wanted to express. Are they what I had imagined? No. But they are step along the way.
Three Questions
In the end, I ask myself 3 questions after completing a project:
- Am I glad that I completed this project?
- Does it say something that I intended for it to say?
- Did I learn something while completing this project?
If I can answer “Yes” to just one of those questions, I consider the project a success. And for my Wolsfeld Woods project I can answer a definite “Yes” to all three questions.
“Between the initial idea and the finished piece lies a gulf we can see across, but never fully chart. The truly special moments in artmaking lie in those moments when concept is converted to reality — those moments when the gulf is being crossed.”
― Art & Fear: Observations on the Perils (and Rewards) of Artmaking
What creative fears are holding you back? Is it time to commit to a new project?
May you walk in beauty.
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