In Praise of What?

I put a photo on Instagram recently and a few people left nice comments, which was nice. There’s a lot of that on Instagram. The photography bubble on that particular platform can be a very supportive community, though I once referred to it very cynically as everyone giving virtual handjobs to one another. Which I know sounds extremely scathing, but it was meant in the context of people not having much interest in looking at things critically (I don’t mean the negative connotation of that word), and some of the commenting being just another form of “like for like,” and “follow for follow.” Visibility is the name of the game in social media. Whether the goal of the game is to monetise your online presence or feed your ego with approval (or both) being seen is arguably more important than being “good” (an extremely subjective term), and commenting, sharing and tagging as much as possible are sure ways to have your presence felt. And yes, before I get accused of being the most miserable bastard of all time, I totally realise that the majority of people are well intentioned and genuine, even while simultaneously trying to get noticed, which itself is a natural and acceptable thing to want. We all do it to some degree. We’re human beings with complex lives and social approval of some form is important for every one of us. But all that’s not what I’m trying to write about. Not about what’s good or not; I’ve tried that before and it feels as impossible as it does pointless. Nor will I go much further into the games played, though that is something I’d like to be able to discuss articulately.

What I do want to write about is the relationships we have with the images we make, and specifically with the reactions they get. When I see positive comments on photos I post they often feel like they’re aimed at me. Which sounds like a really stupid thing to say (like, duh?!), but if that’s your reaction then this is my point. Let me explain. For the most part, when I post a photo online it’s not to show off something I’ve done. It’s to show off the subject of the photo. I am merely a conduit to bring a particular scene to other people. I may as well be invisible, a behind-the-scenes member of staff doing the background work. In this regard, I don’t matter, and happily so. I am not looking to matter. Any credit should go to the subject of the photo. While I realise that the composition and edit (which are under my control) will usually be the main factors that determine whether a picture is considered good or not, for me, it doesn’t really feel like I’m ‘creating’ the composition, and I’m certainly not producing the colours, or light and shadows. The natural world is the one doing the real work. The composition already existed; all I’m doing is trying to find it. And given that I generally try to edit to be truthful to the scene (I don’t do much with long exposure, not into The Orton Effect, I nearly consider blending separate scenes to be a crime) my general rule for editing, for me, is that nature doesn’t need embellishing. This is obviously a grey area since we all see slightly differently, but I think it's clear what I mean.



If the image elicits a positive reaction, it’s because of the image itself. Not really because of the photographer. By this logic, the credit should go to the subject. But it generally doesn’t, because most of us don’t think of mountains, coastlines, clouds, sunrises, or even other species as things we can communicate with in that way, or give thanks to directly. We, naturally, are human-centric, and so, naturally, when a human presents us with a photograph of some incredible nature spectacle, we often feel the need to praise the human that presented it to us. But sometimes I just find that a bit weird (probably because I’m a bit weird?) And I’m comfortable with contradicting myself a little here. I also congratulate photographers from time to time, as praise is a normal and positive human interaction in these circumstances. I’m not saying it isn’t.



I’m not saying people shouldn’t take pride in their work, or refute praise of it. A lot of photographers put a lot of energy into making images and it’s nice for that effort to be acknowledged, and the results of it to be celebrated if it’s something that appeals to the celebrant. I’m not suggesting that my relationship with photography is devoid of pride or ego or not somehow tied up in my sense of self. I hold a certain amount of all of that, but I generally find it a bit strange when praise gets directed my way for things I feel I can take no credit for. Again, if I make a photograph that stirs admiration in somebody the “I make” part kind of feels irrelevant to me. The reaction, surely, is coming from the content of the photograph, not the maker of it. While I am happy to hear praise, I also generally feel like I can’t accept it, because I’m not the one casting a beautiful landscape in golden light, or I’m not the animal engaging in spectacular behaviour. I’m not the one who draws exquisite lines in the shallows of a tidal estuary. I’m not capable of covering the mountains in snow, and then choreographing the sun and weather to dance in perfect synchrony with the hills. I just sometimes happen to be there during these events and occasionally record them on a camera. The praise shouldn’t be for me. The praise should be for... for what? What do we call it? Maybe this is the problem. We don’t have a generally accepted name for the wonders of the world. We don’t have a pronoun for nature. At least not in the English language. In English humans are put at a remove from the rest of the natural world, and communicating with it is seen as new-age hippy bullshit. Many languages used around the world these days are similar in this regard, because most of them come from the big colonisers like Britain and Spain, whose cultures saw, as most of us still see under capitalism, humans (generally white-skinned ones from their own group) as the high point in a hierarchy of beings, with all that is lower down the list to be used in whatever way these people please. And this is one of the reasons why so many of us today in the English-speaking world (and most others) see ourselves separate from the rest of nature. The languages we speak on a day-to-day basis insidiously imprint these beliefs on us.



At this point I’ve probably lost a few people. That last bit was a bit of a tangent, though I feel an important one. But if you’re still here I hope I can get my point across soon if I haven’t already. My goal in sharing my photography has always been the wish that others feel the sense of wonder I get from the natural world, in the hopes that, like me, that amazement will translate into a desire to care about it. I would love for wonder and praise for any image I might happen to make to be directed at the subject of the image rather than at me. Mother Nature, Planet Earth, Gaia, whatever you’re calling it yourself. Be amazed at that. Heap your admiration on the natural world, and the wondrous spectacles we get to enjoy as part of it. Often before leaving some scene that has filled me with awe I say a quiet thank you to the wider world (or, though it’s silly, a go raibh maith agat/agaibh if I’m in a Gaeltacht). It’s not aimed at a god, or any particular form of belief, though sometimes it will be specifically for a particular animal or plant if that’s what I’ve been admiring. It’s just something that’s always come very naturally to me. The same as if somebody does something nice for me I’d thank them, if the world/universe/cosmos does something that brings me joy my reaction is to offer my gratitude back.



I am not for a moment suggesting we stop being kind to one another with positive feedback, or expect us to remove from these situations our natural propensity towards human interaction. Simply that we think a little more about where our admiration is directed. It needn’t be to only one or the other; to the subject, OR the photographer. It can be to both, without diminishing what’s delivered to either. If your reaction to any of the images in this article is “Wow, Richard did a great job with that one!” without thinking much about the content of the image itself, then what is the point of the photo? Are we here posting and looking at beautiful scenes because they inspire us and we want others to feel the same sense of amazement, or are we recognising that people will react to the world’s wonders and using our own photos of them as a tool to boost our egos by association? People are complicated and I’ve no doubt that we all do both simultaneously to some degree. But given the unquestionable need for humans to become more aware of ourselves as a part of the planet’s biosphere rather than somehow above or exempt from the forces that determine how the natural world works I think these kinds of questions are worth thinking about. We claim to love what we photograph, we proclaim as such to all and everybody with meaningful captions on foundations of inspired hashtags. Let’s be true to the sentiment.