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. ;)
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