In the many years of working with the subject, I have come across a large number of reasons or rationales for the serious practice of photography. I have occasionally questioned myself about this, moreso over the last year. With the lock-downs, restrictions on travel and social distancing, things took on new meaning for photographers. Some had no work while others were inundated. Dynamics shifted. There was a much larger focus on journalism. Yet, many photojournalists lost their employment, while others were frantically moving from one assignment to the next. Almost all other forms of commercial and art oriented photography reduced. For many, things came to a standstill.
I find a lot more passionate, excellent photographers unable to produce images or continue with photography, in these times, as compared to photographers who are more business minded in nature. After having fielded many calls by photographers about the future of it all, I know how difficult things have been for some of them over the past year. The ones who were very badly hit were those who supported their love for a certain kind of photography by earning a living by doing small assignments on the side, usually unconnected with their passion. When that stopped, they found it exceedingly difficult. Some began questioning their own affinity and joy for their art, and if the sacrifices were really worth it. Some very good photographers spiralled into depression, others sold their gear and decided to give up photography altogether, and yet others lost themselves completely. Some found themselves anew. After a year and a half since the pandemic began, while some have found their answers, there are those who are still seeking their way out.
I think what remains the most disturbing aspect of social distancing and lock-down restrictions is the new lull in meaningful conversation. There is so much lost in repetition and so much lost in translation over screens. Just as there is a certain immeasurable, potent value in a beautifully displayed print on a gallery wall, there is that interminable loss in viewing anything on a screen, especially a cellphone display; and particularly true in connecting with people.
I desperately hope that this pandemic does not widen the knowledge gap. An unfortunate fallout of digital technology has been with experiencing the brilliance and joys of certain aspects of photography. I am no longer surprised that a new wave of photographers are going through the grind of relearning how to load film into a camera. But to see one of Man Ray’s or S Paul’s prints, or the tonality and shocking detail of a 10 x 12-inch contact print… That level of detail is, in fact, a more recent occurrence with digital printing technologies, and quite lost upon a whole generation of young photographers.
Despite all of this, most would agree with me that the unintended but useful byproduct of a forced stillness, or of doing nothing for a while, is the unusual gift of time. Time for oneself and for one’s families. To take stock, to pace out, ration and rationalise. To ponder and pontificate. To look at images, to sort, filter, edit, like and dislike one’s own work. Time for reflection, and questioning directions, needs, and movement. To study and think. To rediscover one’s own equation with photography. To do some tangential thinking and to find solutions for problems.
As varied as humans are, there are really no wrong answers. But if there is anything to be proven by those who win—even from the Olympics, where some of the best athletes in the world have come from the most economically challenged sections of society—is that there is no substitute for grit, determination, practice, and, when the time comes, giving it one’s all with nothing held back.
This issue of Better Photography has been a particularly difficult for all of us. On July 16, 2021, we received the news of the death of Danish Siddiqui. He was an excellent, committed photographer, and had won a Pulitzer Prize in 2018. We are all extremely saddened by his death, and shocked by the terrible manner in which he was killed. Losing Danish is a loss to the world of photojournalism, and to Indian photography. The ‘In Memoriam’ section, in this issue, is dedicated to him.
This article originally appeared in the August 2021 issue of Better Photography.