I read a lot about fine art photography. I read a lot about art. I look at a lot of both. The term fine art photography seems very misplaced to me. How is another picture of a sunset fine art? Or, the waves breaking on a beach when the water has been slowed down so much that it turns to mist? How is another painting of an animal, fine art?
I really don’t know.
For me, art — forget fine — is something that expresses an unknown truth or brings you closer to something that is unseen in the physical sense. It also simplifies a subject down to its purest sense.
I always liked Robert Mapplethorpe. No, not his later explorations that gained him a measure of infamy. I have no problem with that work, but most of Middle America did. I’m talking about his studio work. The work that looked at something from its barest essence. That brought the viewer inside.
I suppose that this is my homage to his work. I try very hard to produce simplicity. It’s not easy. You can’t just turn this way of seeing on and off. Even with my routine, even with my zen-like approach to getting into a zone, getting to this place is almost impossible to achieve.
That’s probably how it should be.
As an old friend of mine use to say when I would complain about some difficulty, “If it was easy any poodle could do it.”