At the same time, I’m also reminded that with all this excitement and vigor for photography, it’s just as important to continually emphasize how being competent and confident with your camera gear is for your technical and visual storytelling abilities. This might be a bold statement, but I don’t know a single person working in this industry that agrees that a creative and storytelling eye is simply enough. Rather, photographic vision and creativity are the most important part of the formula that also includes being able to move from vision to actualization. Knowing how to achieve your vision is a vital facet of being able to get there, and a very satisfying means to an end (as well as a means to a new beginning).
I’m not advocating going out and buying the gear you think you need in order to produce the most polished or professional looking shots out there (even though at some point, this is a decision you might have to make). Instead, I’m advocating spending time with the gear you already own and continually learning the craft of photography. Some people call this practice. Some folks refer to it as personal work to some degree. However you want to refer to it, working with your gear constantly is the key to getting past the type of barriers it can create for you in your photography.
Let me give you a personal example. Several years ago, I had an opportunity to photograph a few species of small mammals on a Texas ranch east of where I live. I was not on assignment, and to be quite honest, I had not done enough wildlife photography to be considering it a stock shoot, either. What it was, though, was a great opportunity to develop a more acute sense for this type of photography. My good friend and mentor, Wyman Meinzer, and I took to the ranchland in search of small critters, primarily jackrabbits. Their numbers were plentiful, and we certainly had no problem photographing them among the tall grasses they called home. All it took was a little patience, some ground-sitting and quiet stalking.
The jackrabbits were well and good, but when we discovered an even smaller animal in the form of a Mexican Ground Squirrel, we concentrated our efforts on him and his wanderings from his small hole in the ground. We became so enamored by his incessant stockpiling of food that we spent the next week’s worth of early mornings dedicated to just the little guy. This was a week full of “practice” in the sense that I became attuned to approaching the little guy and easing into his environment as un-intrusively as possible before the camera was even raised to my eye. More than that, I adapted to what I was able to do with the gear when photographing an animal the size of, well, a squirrel. I was able to gain quite a bit of technical experience with not only the animal, but also some pieces of gear that I didn’t work much with at the time, i.e. telephoto lenses and motor drives, and techniques that included panning and developing greater sensitivity toward auto-focus.
Even more so, this time “practicing” also drove home some of the more appropriate ways to photograph wildlife, how to represent them, and how to not completely disturb them in their environment (an ethical perspective I still hold strongly). In the way of confidence, this week boosted my feelings toward taking on assignments of a similar nature, especially out in the wild. In a day and age when some photography on this level is taken inside a set of pens or almost-zoo-like contexts, I felt a sense of great satisfaction for being able to photograph the small critter in the wild (as well as having the patience to do so).
This is just one example, but it behooves the photographer at any level to keep in mind the value in always working with the equipment and subject matter one is photographing. As an environmental portrait photographer, I’m constantly working on my lighting skills, variations on composition, and…wait for it…my interpersonal skills—all components that help me make images of people that reflect them in their place.
Just the same, other photographers are working with their craft in other ways to improve their abilities in an effort to create better images. If practice makes perfect, than perfect practice makes it even better. The only way to grow as a photographer is to keep at it, keep at the craft, keep at developing vision, seeing story, and constantly engaging it visually with the intention of improvement—every time you push the shutter button.
Written by Jerod Foster
Web: www.jerodfoster.com
Twitter: @jerodfoster