Rediscovering my creative mojo
(Click on images to view them full size.)
Finding creative outlets
This feels like an important piece to focus on early in this blog as it has been the transformational piece in my journey - I hate that word journey, but I struggle to find another word - my adventure - my sojourn to find me - yuck that’s worse. Ok let’s stay focused!
About five years ago I got my first DSLR camera - an entry level Nikon crop sensor D5600 with an 18-55mm kit lens (for those who care about such details). This was part of my retirement plan, a way for me to connect with my love of nature and capture the world around me. I bought the camera with points and I thought that it was an amazing tool and that I was going to be an amazing photographer - it was, but me not so much!
A common loon in the early morning mist - a very documentary type of image.
I tried to learn photography from books, videos, and any how to lessons I could find. I loved the process of taking photos and I was enamoured with my ability to freeze motion or blur out the background. I would go out in all types of weather (rain, snow, heat, cold, blue hour and golden hour) - in a word, I was hooked. Soon I recognized that my images had a sameness to them and they were missing something - they didn’t align with what I saw in my mind or felt inside when I took them.
The inner critic
One of the first barriers I came up against was that voice inside, the inner critic, that kept saying - why are you surprised by this - you’re not creative! I honestly believed that voice because for years I have been a technical person and valued for my ability to break complex issues down into manageable pieces - to develop and execute successful plans. As I began to ponder this more and dig deeper I had to face the realization that I had lost touch with that creative curious part of me.
Curious hyena cub exploring his surroundings with mum watching from the background.
How did that happen? How did I lose my way from being curious, playful and imaginative to becoming successively more restricted in what I would show the world? Fred Rogers (Mr. Rogers’ Neighbourhood) is quoted as saying that “Play is often talked about as if it were a relief from serious learning. But for children play IS serious learning. Play is really the work of childhood.” I had come to see play as a break from the seriousness of everyday life - now I was having to rethink its role in my life.
I know that for me the loss of the importance of play and creativity in my life was something that happened gradually over time. Praise for technical achievements rather than creative efforts, fear of failure and that inner critic who seems to mimic someone or some event that has been pivotal in shutting down that childlike quality. In my case it was 16 yr old me standing up on a stage and singing at a high school event. Nervous under the spotlight and backed up by a close friend playing guitar - I started off shaky and rather off key. I couldn’t seem to get myself back in tune until the second verse, but the damage was done. Ironically the song was Killing me Softly - very apt as it felt like that at the time and I was sure the audience felt that way too. I made it through the song, but it was the last time I ever sang in public. Over time I convinced myself that I was better suited to being behind the scenes and technical rather than putting myself out there creatively.
The vast new world of photography
This scene at Jökulsárlón glacier lagoon in Iceland has beautiful light and potential, but the subject isn’t clear and there are a lot of distractions.
Fast forward some 40+ years and I’m holding a camera in my hand, focusing on learning the technical side of photography inside and out. I love the process of photography and I have a good understanding of how to make “good” images, but those images often don’t excite or thrill me. My solution was to take courses and read books on finding your creative voice - thinking that would magically solve this and make me feel more connected to my images. Somehow it never quite worked - I could see a scene and feel an overwhelming surge of emotion, but no matter how I tried I couldn’t translate that to the images I was taking. I felt stuck in my photography - much like I felt stuck in a number of other areas in my life, but more on that another time.
Mallard ducks swimming in the early morning light.
The best feedback that I received from a mentor was pretty much that - he said that my images were technically strong, but he wasn’t seeing me in them.
It was like a lightbulb going off in my head - I could see what he meant and I could see the type of images I wanted to make, but I just couldn’t seem to make them.
I was spending so much time and effort getting the technical right and hiding behind the camera - filtering any parts of me from making it onto the camera sensor - too scared of standing out there singing off key again.
Digging deeper to find meaning
So in fact the way I have worked on making images that reflect me is not by going deeper into techniques and making more images, but rather by spending a lot of time exploring inside of me, This includes reading a lot of non photography books, journaling (oh have I journaled), talking with trusted friends and coaches, but most of all it has been through getting more curious and experimenting as well as being more open and vulnerable. By that I mean taking risks and letting more of me be seen, not being afraid to show what interests me, what thrills me, what brings a tear of joy or sadness to my eye, what inspires me and fills me with awe.
Brene Brown in her book Dare to Lead quotes Theodore Roosevelt’s famous man in the arena speech,
“It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly.”
Church at Vik in blue hour light fills me with awe and inspiration.
That quote really resonates with me and as I take these steps toward finding that playful, curious and creative Pam, I don’t just see the critics and the bystanders, I am starting to see my supporters - those who are cheering me on when I take risks and reveal more of myself, when I show how fallible I can be alongside how strong I am.
When I started taking risks and being more open, I started to see things in my photography change - I started to see light and shape differently - the ordinary suddenly became extraordinary and I started taking more risks with my camera - moving away from documentary images to more meaningful images.
I started making images of things that are important to me - images of connection and interaction reflecting what I crave deeply and what I have lost - images of wonder and fleeting moments of light - of action - of special moments.
Photography has enabled me to capture what I feel and see inside through the world around me. And if that isn’t being creative I’m not sure what is - yes I am a creative person and the more I explore the world inside me the more inspiration I find to translate that into my images.
Have you had an arena moment that you are proud of? It would be wonderful to be able to cheer you on.
Soft focus image using slow shutter speed and panning of little egrets flying in front of Mount Kilimanjaro in Amboselli, Kenya.
I hope you’ll come back soon, share a cuppa, relax and enjoy more of my musings.
