Callousness and the lens

(This entry is very personal.  I want to share some thoughts with my friends in the Visual Arts industry.  I’m sure many of them can relate.  Clients and other followers of the blog are welcome to read on, perhaps you may see some inspiration in the thoughts as well.)

Main Entry: cal·lous
Pronunciation: \ˈka-ləs\
Function: adjective

1 a : being hardened and thickened b : having calluses
2 a : feeling no emotion b : feeling or showing no sympathy for others : hard-hearted

— cal·lous·ness noun

The lens of a photographer is a powerful conduit.  It serves as a bridge that connects the photographer with moments in time.  Moments that are joyful, and moments that can be very sad.   You may call yourself a visual artist, a photojournalist, an editorial photographer, or simply a photographer.  No matter what your title, if you document people and events then you can relate to the callousness of the lens.

It seems that we all begin our journey into photography with a pure passion of preserving “moments in time”.  We look for emotion.  We are drawn towards action, and we feed off of the reaction.  A candid smile, a subtle tear, a joyous laugh, and even a moment of extreme sadness.  In the beginning, these emotions grab us personally.  We feel them, and often we express them.

But over time, our craft can become so perfected that capturing these moments can become second nature.  We can become so perfect in our skill that we begin to anticipate and prepare for the emotion that’s sure to come.  The emotion comes, but somehow over time- it continues to enter our lens, but not our heart.  We stop feeling it.  Once we capture it- we simply prepare to move on to the next moment.  Perhaps it’s a necessary trait for a professional, or perhaps it’s just a matter of routine.  Somehow our lenses become callous over time.  We no longer feel what our subjects feel.

I admit, I can only think of two weddings that have really made me shed a tear.  Though I pride myself on capturing emotion, my nature is to capture it, then anticipate where it will hit next so I can capture it again, and again, and again. Is this wrong? Of course not.  But sometimes we need to feel what our subject feels, if for no other reason than to help us remember why we do what we do.  Our work will be cherished, admired, and valued more than most possessions that our clients own.  In the case of a fire, our work will be one of the top priorities to get saved.  Not the car, not the house, not the furniture-  but our work.

This past week, I was asked to document something that I’ve never documented before, a funeral.  The Bishop of our church was loved by many.  He inspired and affected thousands around the world, so I knew this wouldn’t be an ordinary assignment, and I was honored to be asked (although the thought of documenting a funeral is a little unsettling simply because the boundries are so hard to define).  When I asked what guidelines I should follow, I was told to just do what I do.  I really only know one way to shoot- which is to find the emotion and capture it. I went into the assignment with this mindset, but little did I know how much it would affect me.  It’s hard to remain callous when peering through a lens that is magnifying a family’s grief and agony as they kiss their beloved husband, dad, and grandfather for the last time.  It’s hard to not shed a tear as you watch the heartache through a telescopic lens.  At times, it was hard to see the viewfinder because of my tears, yet I knew that they would want it all captured.  I really tried to become calloused again.  I tried to not let it affect me while i was shooting- but I just couldn’t-  and I’m thankful for it.  It reminds me that I can be human now and then.  It’s o.k. to feel the emotion while documenting, and I would even argue that it’s necessary.

Will I be affected by every event I shoot from now on-  probably not.  Will I attempt to feel what my subject is feeling?  Absolutely.  Will I make an effort to make every assignment more personal?  Absolutely.  Will I be a better photographer for it?  Without a doubt.

(I would love to post images from the experience to help illustrate my thoughts, but out of respect to the family- they will be the only ones the images will be shared with.)  We’ll miss you Bishop GA,  now you’re alive.