Art Depends on Affection

“Art depends on there being affection in its creator’s life, and an artist must find ways, like everyone else, to nourish it. A photographer down on his or her knees picturing a dog has found pleasure enough to make many things possible.” this is Robert Adams in an essay, titled “Dogs,” in his book Why People Photograph.

How many of us have had stomach aches of late about money? If you’re an artist or writer the probability is quite high. I oft quote the following:

“When bankers get together for dinner, they discuss Art. When artists get together for dinner, they discuss Money.”

— Oscar Wilde

This would be more amusing if it weren’t so absolutely true.

Even if you’re an artist who appears to have made it, there is still abundant struggle. Unless you’re one of the 1% of artists. And aren’t most of them dead? Robert Adams in the same book, says, “Money is important. It allows you the power over yourself — your time, your energy, the place you live, the tools you have — to be yourself, to get the job done.” He continues:

“Part of the difficulty in trying to be both an artist and a businessperson is this: You make a picture because you have seen something beyond price; then you are to turn and assign to your record of it a cash value. If the selling is not necessarily a contradiction of the truth in the picture, it is so close to being a contradiction — and the truth is always in shades of grey — that you are worn down by the threat.”

And then, this: “How much money would be enough? It’s a theoretical but sobering question, so strong is the temptation to believe that one might buy ones’ way past the nature of life.”

Lastly, he quotes John Cage, who says, “Like most composers, Schoenberg had more or less constant money problems. The thought arises whether these are not the true subject of music.”

Lately, I’ve been interested in photographing people. I’m working toward this goal slowly and happily. I’m not charging anyone any money, because I just want to practice and I don’t want money or expectations to get in the way. I want to be free, and I think money messes it right up, my practice, my process, my fun. It’s probably very wrong-headed. I don’t know. I don’t care. It’s not that I don’t need money, but I need the practice more, I need the joy, and I really need the fun. I know that I’m lucky enough to not be desperate for money. I’m fine.

I have taken to heart in some ways (I’m not a young photographer) the guidance of Annie Leibovitz:

“I’ve said about a million times that the best thing a young photographer can do is to stay close to home. Start with your friends and family, the people who will put up with you. Discover what it means to be close to your work, to be intimate with a subject. Measure the difference between that and working with someone you don’t know as much about.”

I’m interested in taking photos of men, but I’m especially interested in taking photos of women, and yes, of myself. (Which I know some people think is whateverwhatever). Annie again:

“I didn’t want to let women down. One of the stereotypes I see breaking is the idea of aging and older women not being beautiful.”

I love taking photos of ordinary beautiful people, women of all ages. I want more of that. So my goal upcoming is to try and put myself in the way of that possibility. That’s what excites me right now. So.

There is money, and then there is affection. There is finding something to love. There is enjoying what you do enjoy. There is having enough. There is exploring joy.

There are also these mock orange blooms, the scent of them after rain.

There is the constant ongoing slightly absurd persistent splendid fact that you are required to make something beautiful.