The Shocking Truth about Photographic Workflows

 "There is nothing worse than a sharp image of a fuzzy concept." 

-  Ansel Adams

This is a post for all the technicians out there.  As photographers we strive for control.  We “pre-visualize,” use the zone-system when we expose film, have our own top secret development formulas for pushing and pulling exposure and, more recently, cling to calibrated monitors, printers, papers, cameras etc. to bring a “what you see is what you get” (WYSIWYG) sense of comfort to our image making.  But we do not live in a static world, and just as wet plates gave way to film and zone systems so too does the digital workflow to updated software and new tools.

At the same time, we lust after gear; new cameras, computers, filters, and software.  Photoshop and Lightroom are the standard-bearers of our trade.  We learn to live and work between updates as what took hours in CS4 can be accomplished in minutes in CS 6.  The natural extensions of the software we use, ICC profiles, calibrated monitors, and print drivers are all dialed in to serve the aesthetic of the images we are trying to make.  It takes work and it’ s a pain in the ass update, just as I can only imagine film photographers having to re-calibrate their film as more and more of it disappears from the market.  Our initial excitement when new pieces of software come out is soon met with the reality of redefining ones workflow.

I am friends with a wonderful photographer named Huntington Witherill.  He has deemed the update obsessed pace of the digital workflow the “hamster wheel of progress.”  He’s written about such ideas in publications like Lens Work.  His analogy is spot on.  Often times, the updates in gear, software, etc., serve as a source of frustration and can get in the way of doing and making our work.

I get caught up in this all too often.  Photoshop CS5 worked just fine for what I was doing and I had a process I had been using for years with no problems.  Somehow I became convinced that with the newest software (CS6) the quality of my images would improve, so I decided to install it.  Upon doing so I also had to update my print drivers and a variety of plug-ins I use which took the better part of a day.  After doing so I went to make a print in order to full-fill a web purchase and what do you know, the new print driver menu has completely changed and I can no longer print using my dedicated printer profile for the paper I use.  Further, I lost all of my saved printer pre-sets and could not print in advanced black and white mode. 

It took the better part of an entire day, a complete box of Ilford Galerie Silk paper, multiple phone calls and emails, and a pounding headache to finally resolve this issue and realize a new truth (with this update).  Control of color management in the new Epson print driver is f’d (in my opinion) and I have to completely re-work my “digital workflow” to accommodate this truth.  I lost two whole days, time that I could have been out shooting, printing, hiking, whatever, in order to upgrade to new software that I did not really need. 

It reminds me of an Ansel Adams quote, shown at the top of this post.  Often times, we are so obsessed about the background minutia of the photographic process (the tools, the gear, etc) that we begin to believe that having the latest and greatest can make boring or flawed images beautiful.  I’m ashamed to admit it, but like I said, I really had no reason to upgrade my software other than a desire to be able to use a few new tools that simplified my process a tad.  But at what expense?  New technology and new equipment cannot make bad photography good.  It can enhance what an artist is striving for (resolution, sharpness, tonal range, etc) but it cannot make flat lighting interesting or a lack of personal vision translate into a deeper frame.  It just can’t, and all my time wasted on the phone, in front of my monitor sending emails, surfing chat rooms etc. yesterday confirmed this. 

Get out and make images, the other stuff will fall into place.

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The View from the Studio

The View from the Studio

My new workspace.  No cats allowed.

            The workspace, the studio, the shop.  Whatever you call it, you need one.  Setting aside a space for you to do your work as an artist is crucial for lack of distraction and an increased sense of focus/purpose.  I’ve struggled with a dedicated space to work as my “digital darkroom” sits upon a desk in the living room collecting mail, bills, and the clutter of daily life.  As a result, my photography has suffered.  I would still get out to shoot, but I was noticing that when I came home, the hard tedious part of bringing an image to life waned.  My creativity was stifled with the daily running of a household; clearing untidiness, removing cat hair from my keyboard and printer, and (worse) surfing the internet mindlessly. 

            What do to?  I decided to move my workspace to our guest room.  When I say, “guest-room” I mean a room that is occupied maybe once or twice a year when we have visitors.  What’s more is that this guest room has an unobstructed view out onto towering red sandstone and gently rolling hills (inspiration).  It’s also in the quietest part of the house, away from the kitchen, living room, and corridors of business.  The walls are bare and I can do what I want with them, I can close the door to keep the cats out, and I can sit quietly and listen to the wind, thunder (its monsoon season here on the reservation), or rain pound down upon the roof.  Mostly, I have carved out a small space separate from my daily task oriented life, and though it is still a new thing, I am finding it helps.

            I have friends who’re great photographers and I’ve always admired the spaces that they work in.  They’re all unique in their own way, reflecting the artistry of the resident, and serve as a source of inspiration in their own way.  Some are in cramped corners of a small room, others are completely disconnected from the house; but they all achieve the same thing.  Separation. 

            As an artist with a foot in two worlds it can, at times, be hard to straddle the line of professional self and creative self.  That is why carving out a detached space, whatever that be for you, is so important.  Make that space mirror your ambitions, fill it with pictures of people and things that inspire you (I just hung a large portrait of Ed Abbey above my computer and a poem titled “Advice from a River”, and am planning on doing more in the weeks to come).  Let it serve as a well for your creativity and passion.  Leave that space alone except when you doing something artistic.  I promise it will pay off. 

           

             

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