Over the last two years, my immersion in online photography communities has resulted in a group of photographers/friends that I feel very fortunate to know and associate with. Through in-depth discussions about photography and the creative process, a realization has come over me that each photographer has their own motivation for creativity. For some, photography is a method of anxiety relief, an excuse to "stop and smell the roses." For others, it fulfills a personal need to set goals and challenge themselves to achieve recognition and even income. Some photographers just like to express the beauty they find in the world in their own personal way. In other cases, photography fulfills a need for communicating something personal about themselves.
The list of motivations goes on. What's interesting is that the more you get to know a person's motivation for creating images, the more you see that reflected in their work. Not only in the choice of subject, but they way they create their images of that subject.
So that brings me to the title of this blog, which is a pure explanation of my own creative motivation and how it impacts what I shoot, when I shoot, and how I see. I write this, because I feel a need to. I need to for myself. Partly to share why I can be an active communicator at times and seem to have gone into hibernation at other times. Also, by writing this, I am at the same time confirming for myself why I do what I do. But I also share this process of exploring my own creative motivations with the hope that it may help others to better understand their own motivations. Because I believe that if you can have a true understanding of this element of yourself, you have the potential for truly personal and unique creativity.
So back to the title of the blog. I suffer from depression. I have for 10 years, maybe more. I have managed it without medication (although I tried meds and quickly didn't like the side affects). I think I do so very well, given that I run my own successful business and haven't completely closed myself off from the world. It's definitely a genetic issue, given that my parents and grandparents suffer(ed) from it as well.
This post is not about the clinical aspects of depression, treatment or any of that. I intend this writing to be about how depression affects me creatively. And let me tell you, it definitely does. The good news is, according to historical precedent, I have a good chance at becoming one hell of a photographer. I'm typing this with my tongue firmly planted in my cheek. But for those who have time, take a few minutes to google the phrase "depression and the artist". I'm in good company (depending on how you look at it).
So what role does depression play for me when it comes to photography? For those who already know me, you probably just chuckled at the obviousness of the answer. In the interest of brevity let me list the obvious symptoms:
- My first real photo project is titled "Urban Melancholy"
- My description of that project includes the phrase : "subject matter that seems very natural and recurring to me"
- I almost refuse to take my camera out on sunny days. If it isn't overcast and gloomy, I have a hard time finding things to shoot. (unfortunately, I'm not joking on this point)
- My second photo project, "so help me god" begins with a photo of a man passed out from drinking in the middle of the day
- I have been known to totally dismiss other photography as shallow if it includes a pretty sunset
- I often close my galleries and dismiss my prior work as worthless
- I go for long periods of time not creating anything (the gap between Phase One and Phase Two of the Urban Melancholy project was one year)
- I shun recognition and praise of my work because I don't know how to handle it. When Urban Melancholy hit the front page of Pbase's "Popular Galleries" I quit shooting images altogether for two months
Irrationality, withdrawal, and feelings of worthlessness are all symptoms of depression. A depressed mind does not function in a normal and expected manner. For those who haven't dealt with it, it really doesn't make any sense. And being blessed with a high-achiever gene myself, I find it easy to look upon those symptoms as excuses, and cop-outs. "Just get over it" is what I would say. I wish it were so easy.
Depression, for me, has a paradoxical upside (one I would gladly trade away for being rid of the disease). It can be, and has been my greatest source of creative motivation. I find an odd sort of comfort by being able to produce images that reflect my sense of mood or the way my depressed mind sees the world. For me then, photography becomes almost therapeutic. It doesn't make it better, but rather gives me a way to step outside of my depression and look back in at it and better understand how it is affecting me.
A depressed mind easily sees loneliness, despair and isolation. Subject matter like that leaps out. It asks to be photographed. Even with inanimate objects. Resulting in images such as these:
A normal mind creates images like these; which I created when my depression symptoms were subdued:


Notice the obvious difference of subject matter, color and mood of the images. I take pride in the first two images; because, for me, they are so much a part of the way I exist in the world. They were created in reflection of emotions that I experience but I don't often talk about. They represent a window unto a place that often serves as "home" for me.
The latter two images have won photo contests; but I don't particularly take pride in either of them. For me, they are superficial. They were created with a thought process found at "surface level".
As a result of typing this post, I've gained some clarity about why I respond to certain types of photography while easily dismissing other types. If an image reaches past my "surface level" emotionally, I respond to it. If it doesn't, I lose interest quickly. This translates directly into why I choose to shoot what I shoot, when I shoot it, and how I shoot it. Understanding this creative motivation is my key to continuing to create images that are personal and uniquely my own. I hereby forgive myself for the sporadic nature of my creative productivity, as this is a natural byproduct of my motivating force.
Glad I got that off my chest. ;)
I was a depression patient a few years ago, and I believe I understand how you feel being tortured by such disease.
I am a beginner in photograhy and often choke myself with the comments and expectations of others. Your article gives me some light. I will learn to shoot images in a way as you said,
"they are so much a part of the way I exist in the world. They were created in reflection of emotions that I experience but I don't often talk about. They represent a window unto a place that often serves as "home" for me. "
Thanks for your generous sharing!
Posted by: Phyllis | March 29, 2007 at 12:30 AM
Thanks for sharing your deepest innermost thoughts and feelings. It is great that you've been able to channel your emotion into your art. I'm sure - as you have stated - that it gives you both an outlet and a way of looking at/understanding your inner state. I think all great art is an expression of the artists inner state of being which - when skillfull and truthfully created - touches something inside the viewer and magically resonates.
Posted by: Craig Persel | March 29, 2007 at 02:50 PM
Chuck you continue to amaze me. Very few people ever look so deep into themselves and even less put it in writing for others to read. Thank you for sharing this, it really makes me think about why do I take the photos I take. Thank you for that, you continue to inspire me.
Stacey
Posted by: Stacey Bates | March 29, 2007 at 02:58 PM
it's not often that artists are able to see what's driving them and if they do, admit it. thanks for your openness and i admire you for that....
Posted by: Carl | March 30, 2007 at 06:14 PM
One of the best personal posts I've read in months. I consider myself fortunate to be among the list of people you call friends, and as you know from our countless conversations that feeling is very much reciprocated. And in part because of all those topics we've discussed, it's fascinating and enlightening for me to read this... Much of it I knew already - and yet somehow it's only when reading it from start to finish as it's presented here, do I feel I start to truly, fully appreciate just what the creative process means to you.
The interesting thing, which although I've mentioned it in the past (yet you probably still don't quite realise) is just how infectious your dedication to creativity is. Sure, slagging off sunsets / flowers / images / butterflies / insect macros / *insert any cliche theme here* could POTENTIALLY be construed as being a tiny, slightly bit negative or inflexible from time to time.... BUT your unwavering and absolutely unbending commitment to doing something new, something previously unseen, something perfect has a strange habit of rubbing off on others. I saw it with myself when I stumbled across your Urban Melancholy gallery in late 2005 - the project to which I owe for saving me from potentially years of mundane imagery. I know I was not alone in that regard too. And what I believe I witness here on this blog is your ability to reach others with an even greater effect - coupling images with honesty, reason and as I say, that infectious obsession. It's a powerful weapon you wield exceptionally well. The double edged sword of that weapon spells great things for those willing to turn that laser like focus on themselves... and spells disaster photographers poised over butterflies resting on flowers under a warm sunset. OK sure, obsession doesn't make the happiest of people - as results can sometime cloud the enjoyment... but it does give that person a choice... at least they can choose to be happy after they become great. That choice is not so easy the other way around.
Anyway, allow me to add my selfish gratitude for your unsatisfiable attitude - for it drives many of us to greater things.
p.s. This was meant to be a private email btw - but seeing as you were kind enough to bare your soul, I thought the least I could do was hit "post".
Posted by: Lawrence Ripsher | April 09, 2007 at 12:21 PM
I'll throw in my 2-cents worth about the influence of Chuck's Urban Meloncholy series too on my photography. I hadn't picked up a camera for over 20 years, so when I started again in 2005 it wasn't until I stumbled upon the fantastic imagery of Chuck's Urban Meloncholy series that I found my own voice. It opened me up to entirely different ways of looking at the world and how to so creatively and uniquely treat/process photos as a means of expressing one's inner self with such power and impact. Chuck has always been so helpful too in sharing his ideas, techniques and software tips in regard to post-production work. My photos wouldn't be 1/10th of what they are without his inspiration and help. :-)
Posted by: Craig Persel | April 09, 2007 at 01:16 PM
I've always relied on photography as a therapeutic hobby, but for the past few months, have had difficulty even picking up my camera - the idea of taking photos seemed overwhelming and impossible - and when I did, I found my images to be plastic and awful. For a while, I felt like going out and taking photos of the ugly side of Dubai, where I currently live - the greed, the blatant abuse of labourer's rights, the awful environmental effects etc, but found it too difficult to get over my constant exhaustion to actually do something about it! :)
I have been diagnosed with depression a couple of days ago, and will start treatment soon (and hopefully, without meds). A lot of things about how I'd been feeling lately made sense after that.
After reading your article, I'm comforted to know that it's all right for photographic styles to change, it's normal to have "down times" for months on end, and most importantly, that it's possible, even in small bursts, to get on with life. Thanks for that, have been reading lots on depression (and am feeling very lost right now!), this one really helped because it was something I could relate to. After reading your article, I realise that I should have followed my instinct, shot some photos to reflect how I perceived the world at that point in time - that would have been much more honest and fulfilling than trying to find beauty in everything, which is what I've been trying to do when I take photos - but then, most importantly, that it's fine to be down, because it's possible to pick yourself up again when you're ready.
Thanks Chuck!
Posted by: Azlin Ahmad | April 21, 2007 at 05:57 AM
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.
Posted by: Mia | August 24, 2008 at 10:53 AM
Very insightful; and encouraging. I was diagnosed with depression just a month ago and the creative apathy has been part of the problem/one of the symptoms.
Thank you for opening a window from which I can peek out into the world again.
Posted by: kairon_gnothi (Opportunity Knocks) | November 24, 2008 at 04:42 PM
Hi,
i came across this through the google method and i understand . i am there. i go through moments with the photographic process where i feel i need to express my emotions and then i think i should be feeding my children with the wedding photography and the bs photography. i can't do it. i'd rather have a crap job than succumb to the trappings of commercialism. Art and depression come hand in hand. We strive to be the "Artist" but can we? I have no quams with shooting per se but, I feel personally I just wanna make ART.
Posted by: basia | March 06, 2009 at 12:19 AM
we think that famous people do not suffer from illnesses such as depression, but this is a lie this disease is more common in them than we can imagine.
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