If there is one crucial ingredient to my photojournalistic (or, visual storytelling) progression that I am constantly craving, it’s feedback. For me, there’s nothing worse than working in a vacuum, bereft of any outside voice, encouraging me to reflect, to change tack, to try something different, to push harder, to keep going. I honestly don’t know how anyone can work on any project they consider worthy without a little constructive criticism, encouragement, and support.
I’m currently working on a transmedia documentary project that will contribute towards a doctorate. And I’ve got a few precious months given to me via a scholarship, to get the majority of the field-work (i.e. visual documentation) done. I have two academic supervisors – one for theory, and one for visual. They advise me, critique my work, push me, but they don’t do the work for me. Some times, their criticism, though constructive and well-meaning, can floor me – I feel gutted. It’s times like these that I know I have to practice some self-reflection. This tough love approach is meant to get me to take a step back from the hypercentre, and to take a broader view of things. Sometimes I go back to the library, other times, I have to revisit the photography – re-edit, re-shoot or re-think my approach. It’s tough work. But I feel like it’s paying off.
The craving for feedback doesn’t end with my supervisors. My colleagues, current and past, all lend an ear and some advice from across hallways and continents. We have long discussions on Skype, on Facebook, over coffee and chocolate. Recently, we formed a local PhD study group with a mission to surf, eat and engage in academic discourse. Nothing better than a good set of waves, a hot plate of fries and two beautiful minds to get all academic with.
Feedback sessions renew my energy. They serve to re-calibrate my focus when I’ve been out in the desserts of my mind for too long. It’s good, but not easy.
I learned to seek feedback as a student journalist. After more than a few embarrassing moments, when I would pick up a copy of the Gleaner or Terminal City Magazine, and notice a typo, or worse – a wonky idea, I would go into virtual hiding until I could redeem myself in the next issue.
In Prague, I learned to expose not just my prints, but my negatives, to my staff photographers’ critical eyes (note: I was the picture editor – which doesn’t necessarily mean I was the best photographer, I just knew how to herd cats better than anyone else). Luckily for me, they were all seasoned pros, having learned the skills of giving and receiving feedback from some of the best photojournalism schools in the world. We used to lay-out our edited prints (in the days before digital photography) on the ground and ruthlessly turn over images that weren’t strong enough to keep the momentum of the narrative moving (we ran picture stories with most written pieces – oh, Halcyon days!). This was excellent training.
I soon learned to read negatives – the window to what a photographer was not just seeing, but thinking – in effect, it was a sort of psychoanalysis. I could tell, for instance, when a photographer would loose the trail – get nervous, or scared (if they happened to be covering a riot, for example). And then see where they would latch on to some anchor – some detail, and get back on to the trail, find a story amidst the chaos. It was magic.
There is a degree of respect and trust that goes along with the privilege of giving and receiving feedback. On the giving side, you have to imagine yourself in the photographer’s shoes. It’s a big thing to give up a few sleeves of negatives (or a flash card), to someone who wasn’t there and didn’t experience what you just went through. So you must remain respectful, tactful, but honest.
On the receiving end, you’ve got to be ready for criticism – and by this, you must be ready to hear that it just didn’t work. A good editor will always give you a chance to redeem yourself – either with a re-shoot or with some advice for “next time.” Take this to heart. The only time you really fail is when you stop trying.
I have experienced, and witnessed, some terrible feedback sessions in my time. In the professional world, I’ve heard people being told that they’d make a good babysitter when they’ve shown their folio to a prospective editor for example. Others have been told they don’t know how to “set up” a good picture. Personally, I’ve heard these gems: “too featurey,” “too masculine,” and “yucky.” There is a silver lining to being hit with these bombs – when someone gives you feedback as deflating as this, it is more a reflection of their own self-worth than any comment on your work or yourself. And if you believe in Karma, my experience is that these bomb-lobbing nay-sayers are usually at the end of their rope. None of the editors referred to in this blog are actually working in the industry anymore. And all of the photographers who did receive those bombs, are still excelling at what they do best – telling stories through pictures.
Another thing to really take to heart is this – don’t make the editor responsible for your progress. It’s up to you to make something of the critical feedback you receive. One of the biggest mistakes is to show up for a critique (feedback session) with only your story to show. You should have your own critical analysis of the work, and show that you’ve done some reflection.
What do editors mean by reflection? Sometimes we say, you need to do more referencing. But we really mean, reflection. Reflection means thinking about your story – taking a holistic view of it, from the inside, all the way to the outside – so far outside that you are looking at other practitioners who have done stories or used similar methodologies (approaches) to their stories as you have. We draw inspiration and ideas from other people’s work, whether we’re aware of it or not. Being aware of what’s out there, gives you an idea of what’s been done before, what is still to be done, and often, how you can do it differently.
It’s tough to receive criticism, but if you leave yourself open to the experience, it can mean the difference between just doing okay, and doing your very best. Also remember this, if you block, you create an eddy of negativity (that’s bad Chi). If you stay open, you keep things moving (good Chi), and that’s how we learn and grow.
Have I had a melt-down during my feedback sessions with supervisors? I’d be a liar if I said everything flowed smoothly. But every tear was a release of angst, of unrealistic expectations. I can also say, being on both the giving and receiving end of feedback, that it is the best medicine and the best nutrition for my practice. Make it yours.