Nothing To Say
But does it Matter?
I find myself often second-guessing. I’m worrying about how good of an artist I can truly be, whether that’s as a writer, photographer, or if it’s with my new found love of drawing. I’ll suddenly ask, “But what if I have nothing to say?” while in conversation with my husband on the subject.
This has bothered me for quite some time. I go to exhibitions and I see the photographs fine art photographers make, or I pore through the pages of Harper’s Bazaar and Vogue, being stunned by the collaborations that make the fashion photographs so exquisite, and I wonder how they all come up with the ideas for these shoots. I’ll often say, “I’m not creative enough,” or “but these people lived more interesting lives,” or “I’m just a mum doing the school run.”
And maybe I’ll never feel like I have something to say. Today, however, I came to the conclusion that maybe that’s not what my art is about, not what my photography is about.
When I was in high school, I wanted to be a doctor. I was on the path. I joked about being an anesthesiologist because of the money. I mean, that’s all I can say about that one. And maybe a bit because I had a little crush on the anesthesiologist who put me under when I had my appendix out. But I also loved the idea of being a psychologist or psychiatrist. I spent so much time chatting with my friends and drawing them into the deepest conversations I could. I distinctly remember sitting on AIM (AOL instant messaging for all you young people out there), at 2, 3, 4 am, chatting with my good friends about their families, girl troubles, and whether they felt worthy. We talked religion and school stress, and all sorts. I just remember feeling like I enjoyed being their shoulder.
Obviously, I didn’t go to medical school, and I didn’t become a psychologist or therapist of any kind, but I think I still carry a bit of that need to be there. I love to listen to people talk. I love to watch people, see the way they hold their hands or chew. I love trying to assess how they are feeling by the way they look around or at me or glance away.
What I’m trying to say is, maybe I am not here to say something. Maybe I’m a photographer to listen, to watch, to read, to learn, and to let my photographs capture that. Even in the creation of an editorial, I find myself wanting to be a proxy, telling the story of whatever it is that I’ve chosen as my main subject: a person or a place, clothing, or choreography.
Maybe, in the end I’ll find that my something to say is entwined with my subject, and it’s not an all or nothing. It’s a collaboration. A conversation. And maybe not. Who knows? Right now, I’m just enjoying the journey and the privilege to question it all.
