I’ve been advised to be careful about the art I seek out because of the influence it might have on my work. I agree that we should be conscious of what influences us, but I don’t agree that we should be afraid of it. That advice makes sense if you engage almost exclusively with one genre, subgenre, artist, or aesthetic. But if you remain open to what you encounter—including your own work—and actively seek out things that are new to you, I don’t think individual influences are something to fear.
This is perhaps the best argument against most social media. These platforms actively try to create a singular sphere of influence around you. That said, if you can gain awareness of the bubble that has formed, you can learn a lot. You could gain a better understanding of your blind spots and current interests, get a really good idea of the kinds of work you are being influenced by, and perhaps most importantly, you can learn how to burst that bubble.
In my last post, I wrote about the isolation of being a niche artist in a rural setting. In that kind of environment, the hardest bubble to burst may be your own.
I think every artist should spend time with their work after it is finished. A painter or sculptor may be sick of a piece by the time it’s done, but there is still a great deal to be gained from living with it. For a photographer, I think this is essential.
Photography in the digital age is damn near instantaneous. Because a finished photograph can be produced so quickly, an artist can make tens of thousands of images over even a short career. Of course, photographers have always been capable of producing enormous quantities of work; Gary Winogrand died with well over 100,000 undeveloped frames. At that speed, it is easy to move on to the next photograph and forget the one you just made. This is part of what makes photography culturally cheap.
Despite that, great art is possible within the medium. I’ve had the privilege of meeting quite a few photographers who have done just that. When I have the opportunity to talk with an artist like that, I’m always interested in their influences—and in how they allow themselves to be influenced by their own work.
What has surprised me is how many of them talked about being influenced by their own work with a touch of fear, as though engaging with it too deeply were somehow playing with fire.
I understand that fear, but I also think it is essential for photographers to live with, engage with, and be influenced by their past work. Looking at past photographs can teach you a great deal. You may see areas for improvement or recognize patterns in the way you photograph, but you are also engaging with a visual language of your own. Over time, living with your work can help you develop a language that is uniquely yours.
The fear of those master photographers is well founded, though. A highly developed artistic language can eventually become so self-contained that the work stops growing or becomes harder for others to engage with. Allowing your own work to become your primary influence can be the end of artistic growth.
That sounds bad, but it is only bad if you stay there.
Growth is neither constant nor consistent. Every artist encounters periods when their work stalls or their artistic evolution seems to stop. These are often the periods artists fear most, and they have brought many artists to the point of abandoning their work altogether.
The act of creation is often exhausting. It can be thrilling and enlivening, but it still takes something from you. There are ways to try to break out of periods of stagnation, but the older I get, the more I see them as opportunities to rest.
Many artists go hunting for inspiration from outside influences when faced with such a block. But breaking free from a creative block often comes from seeing your own work in a new light. Maybe you have a stray thought about an old photograph. Maybe you notice a flaw you hadn’t seen before. Maybe engaging with someone else’s work changes the way you see your own.
However it happens, that kind of discovery requires knowing your work well enough to let it influence you.