I’ve been doing a weekly Zoom chat over the past few months with a circle of old friends from middle and high school. It’s been a silver lining during the pandemic to reconnect in this manner. Recently we discussed parties we had when we were kids. I remember a song that was playing on regular rotation during those days. It was Billy Joel’s syrupy ballad “Honesty.” I was never a fan of his, my trip-state area musical hero was from the Jersey side (long before his recent DWI). That damn Billy Joel song brought back feelings of melancholy, memories of when the lights at the party would go dim, and our pre-teen hormones would ramp up to a frustrating level.
What does any of this have to do with photography? Maybe not much, except that I have been pondering the idea of honesty more frequently lately. Honesty in my own work, honesty in my sharing, honesty in my process, honesty in my exchanges with others, specifically other photographers (and all of you, too.) I’m staunchly Generation X, where irony was our standard M.O. It has taken me many years to shake the sarcasm and self-effacing criticism that was our calling card. Honesty is such a lonely word, indeed. I think one of the lessons from the past four years, and certainly the past 11 months, has been the value and the need for honesty. Too many lies, too much misinformation, too many charlatans… it can lead to a dark, violent, deadly place.
Part of my creative process lately has been a search for an honest expression of my thoughts and feelings. Friends may know that I am a passionate improv disciple. I take improv classes and play with a few teams on a regular basis. One of the core tenets of the art form is to find and share the honest emotion of a scene with your partner. This approach finds its way into my photographic process as well. I try not to hide behind some nebulous idea in my work. Though my images recently have veered towards the abstract side of the spectrum, I still try to be honest about my motivation and my process. The words that swirl around my work, while I do try to be poetic, are always meant to be honest. My conversations with those I trust are always as transparent as I am capable of being. Irony and sarcasm are a shield. It’s time to let down the guard.