The Shot

Photographer Michael Gordon, in a recent piece on his blog, discussed “getting the shot.”  The primary focus of the post covers the notion of “getting the shot” as a kind of conquest or triumphal experience.  A related, but distinct, concept covered near the end of the article is the implication that the term “the shot” implies that there is merely one, single shot to be had at a given photo location.

If you read the original post, you’ll see that Michael is less than complimentary about each of these ideas.  I wholeheartedly agree with him, and I’d like to share a few thoughts of my own on the subjects.

Chimney Rock Overlook, Red River Gorge, Daniel Boone National Forest, Kentucky

Photography as Conquest

Proceeding with the notion that there’s a specific shot to identify and obtain from a given location makes me think of having a to-do list and ticking off the items as they’re accomplished.  Feed the cat, check.  Drop off the dry cleaning, check.  Paint the garage, check.  Procure photograph of Delicate Arch in evening light.  Check.

Another way of looking at it is to think of individual photographs as preconceived items in a collection, like stamps or coins.  Tunnel View, Old Faithful, Mesa Arch at Sunrise, Schwabacher’s Landing…now if I can just pick up the Maroon Bells at peak color…

Virgin River, Zion Canyon, Zion National Park, Utah

I suppose there may be people out there who gain some sense of satisfaction by applying these kinds of approaches to landscape photography and, if there are, who am I to judge?  But, this is utterly different from how I think about the endeavor.  The enjoyment and satisfaction that I attain from participating in landscape photography stems from embedding myself in a location and really looking around, trying to find visually appealing scenes, large and small; in spectacular light and even light; images that may mesh with whatever preconceived notions I inevitably bring to the subject and ones that may not.  The enjoyment, then, comes–at least in part–from the interweaving of the intellectual and aesthetic process of image making in the field.

Foggy Morning black & white, Ft. Harrison State Park, Indiana

None of this is to say that I won’t, under any circumstances, make images of iconic scenes; I certainly have in the past and presumably will in the future.  But I’ve never arrived at an iconic location, obtained “the shot” and moved on.  Ever.  That wouldn’t be much fun, I don’t think.

One Shot Pony

I’ve discussed the notion of approaching a scene with a preconceived idea of what will be found and what a shot will look like on several past occasions right here on this blog.  I have “visualized” a scene on a few occasions, and gone out looking to fulfill a vision a few times.  But this is the exception to the general rule, which typically follows a more serendipitous undertaking.  As I intimated, even when I approach a location with a clear, specific idea of what I expect to find there (often based on previous experience at the spot), I try to keep an open mind and act accordingly.

Apple Blossoms, Morton Arboretum, DuPage County, Illinois

I’m not sure that there’s anything worse for a photographer’s creativity than approaching a scene with a one-shot-only mentality.  There’s a certain self-fulfilling prophecy that surrounds this sort of mindset:  look for only one image and you’ll find only one image.  There’s always more than a single composition worthy of consideration at a given scene; it’s completely counterproductive to think otherwise.  It’s arguably acceptable for some photographers to approach a scene with the intention of obtaining a particular image; that’s what visualization is about, in a nutshell.  I’ve done that myself, as I’ve indicated above.  But if a preconceived image is held, once it’s obtained, the photographer must be able to look at things with a clear, open mind.  Shifting gears is a necessary skill if you’re going to play the visualization game and not let every other photo opportunity pass you by.

Elakala Falls (Tier 2), Blackwater Falls State Park, West Virginia

“The Shot” mentality is a very dicey–at best–way to approach landscape photography, in my estimation.  It puts figurative blinders on the photographer, thereby stifling creativity, potentially turning the entire endeavor into little more than a trophy hunting expedition.  If that’s what you want, I guess that’s fine.  But if you derive satisfaction from the experience of exploring, discovering image making opportunities on location, “the shot” is a tremendous impediment to realizing your potential as an original maker of photographic images.

Light and Shadow black & white, Monument Valley Navajo Tribal Park, Arizona

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