Very nice post, Griffin. What you need to focus more on is originality and intentionality. These are missing from your post, yet they are two of the most important pillars of artistic photography.
Originality doesn’t mean “no one has ever taken this kind of picture before.” Rather, originality is born from intentionality. Why do you take a picture of this, and not of that? This question is deeply connected with our consciousness and rooted within ourselves. It is only possible when someone is truly present, when they are not just looking, but seeing the world.
This feeling, this process, is very hard to explain and some people may never fully understand it. It takes years to learn, and tremendous energy and effort. This is what I’m trying to teach myself and refine. It is also what gives your pictures meaning. Every picture tells a story, but the strength of that story comes from within us.
On the subject of street photography; The reason it receives so much hatred is because the principle I described above should be the core premise of street photography. I’m not saying every street photographer has mastered it or even practices it. But the street is one of the hardest genres out there, and many people can’t do it no matter how hard they try. They are only looking.
Street photography gets a bad reputation because it’s easier to dismiss it than to understand it. Labeling it “intrusive” or “immoral” is the simpler path. Hate unites people; it makes them feel better. People are simple in that way. We often overthink, but sometimes it really comes down to that.
Seeing is invaluable. It isn’t tied to any one genre, but in street photography it is everything. To truly find a picture on the street comes down to the ability to see. Without that, it’s just another obvious shot.
I also share the hopes that original photography is coming back from ashes of the algorithmic content. I’m not participating in feeding the monster either. All the best, and thanks for inspiring post!
Peter, thank you very much for reading and providing such a detailed response. You've raised a lot of valuable points, and I'll be keeping this perspective in mind going forward.
I didn't include many of my own street photos in the post since I was trying to stick to a summer theme, but I can see how those ideas about looking vs seeing show up in my own work and others. Personally, my favourites are the ones that show the spatial context of our lives, contrasting individuals and crowds with the cityscape surrounding them.
I am glad you brought up the way that "intrusive" or "immoral" are used to dismiss. This is exactly what I was going for in the discussion of exploitation. Sadly, there are quite a few people who want to dismiss to avoid confronting discomfort.
Thoughtful read, Griffin. We use Substack differently. I use Notes to share quick prompts and keep photographers moving, you use essays to unpack ideas. Both have a place, the conversation matters more than the format. Marco
Hey Marco, you're definitely right, and I do realize that I may not be the intended audience of your posts. I hope that the conversation about photography can continue to grow and include a diverse range of opinion. Thank you for reading this and providing some feedback, I greatly appreciate it!
This is a pretty meaty post, Griffin. It triggered a lot of thoughts.
The title of your Substack, which is well chosen, reminded me of the Anthropocene exhibition I saw at the Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto in the summer of 2018.
I was struck by the devastating truth of the damage we are doing to the environment, and how that message contrasted with the beautiful colours, composition, and artistic presentation of Edward Burtynsky’s photographs. The cost and size of the huge photographic prints suggest that they were designed to grace the interiors of corporate offices or the lobbies of glass towers. There seemed to be such a disconnect.
But it got me thinking about how an ugly truth—an inconvenient truth—should be captured and communicated using photography. We expect beauty from art, but not all art strives to be beautiful. Is “terrible beauty” a thing? Does a beautiful presentation cancel a terrible message, allowing us to side with truth while hiding its visibility behind art? Can we depict despair and devastation without aestheticising it? I’m just thinking out loud here.
Thank you for the feedback and for sharing your thoughts Mark!
Edward Burtynsky has certainly been an inspiration to me, and seeing his work has pushed me to place greater emphasis on the print. But I agree about the disconnect - in fact, he is explicitly uncritical of the Anthropocene. According to his biography in the book Manufactured Landscapes (the companion to an exhibition at the National Gallery of Art in Ottawa), he is quoted saying it would be hypocritical to make a moral or political statement using his work. I believe this notion neuters the power of his images and should be rejected. Without a meaningful stance, the aestheticisation of industry will only serve to whitewash their impact on the world. It also allows the artist to live under an illusion of objectivity.
While I approach the same general topic as Burtynsky, I believe I differentiate myself by focusing on the experience of living in this era. I may take photos of industrial installations or human damage to the environment, but I hope to transmit the emotional reaction I feel when walking into those scenes. Those photos are meant to be sequenced with images of the surrounding communities to show the connection between industrial development and modern lifestyles. I am also concerned with social aspects of the Anthropocene, such as advertising, surveillance, and growing economic inequality, to name a few. Hopefully, tying these threads together will create work that gives greater understanding and empowerment to the audience rather than simply aestheticising devastation.
Clearly, your project requires a curated selection of images arranged in a considered sequence, so I understand your interest in creating a photobook. It would be difficult to communicate your message in a single image—even a set of three would be more effective.
Your photos of Mount Royal are compelling, especially the juxtaposition of the graveyard with commercial signage and the communication towers. With a single image, the viewer might not know what to focus on; with three or more images framing a visual contradiction, the intent becomes clearer. A book would allow for a deeper, more nuanced, and less hurried conversation.
When I walked up Mount Royal with my family in July 2023, I was struck by the number of people taking selfies at the famous lookout, with central Montreal as a backdrop. They had walked all that way, only to see a portal to somewhere else—where their smiling selves could take centre stage, immersed in a stream of shiny little hearts and colourful balloons. I found it both bizarre and sad.
Very nice post, Griffin. What you need to focus more on is originality and intentionality. These are missing from your post, yet they are two of the most important pillars of artistic photography.
Originality doesn’t mean “no one has ever taken this kind of picture before.” Rather, originality is born from intentionality. Why do you take a picture of this, and not of that? This question is deeply connected with our consciousness and rooted within ourselves. It is only possible when someone is truly present, when they are not just looking, but seeing the world.
This feeling, this process, is very hard to explain and some people may never fully understand it. It takes years to learn, and tremendous energy and effort. This is what I’m trying to teach myself and refine. It is also what gives your pictures meaning. Every picture tells a story, but the strength of that story comes from within us.
On the subject of street photography; The reason it receives so much hatred is because the principle I described above should be the core premise of street photography. I’m not saying every street photographer has mastered it or even practices it. But the street is one of the hardest genres out there, and many people can’t do it no matter how hard they try. They are only looking.
Street photography gets a bad reputation because it’s easier to dismiss it than to understand it. Labeling it “intrusive” or “immoral” is the simpler path. Hate unites people; it makes them feel better. People are simple in that way. We often overthink, but sometimes it really comes down to that.
Seeing is invaluable. It isn’t tied to any one genre, but in street photography it is everything. To truly find a picture on the street comes down to the ability to see. Without that, it’s just another obvious shot.
I also share the hopes that original photography is coming back from ashes of the algorithmic content. I’m not participating in feeding the monster either. All the best, and thanks for inspiring post!
Peter, thank you very much for reading and providing such a detailed response. You've raised a lot of valuable points, and I'll be keeping this perspective in mind going forward.
I didn't include many of my own street photos in the post since I was trying to stick to a summer theme, but I can see how those ideas about looking vs seeing show up in my own work and others. Personally, my favourites are the ones that show the spatial context of our lives, contrasting individuals and crowds with the cityscape surrounding them.
I am glad you brought up the way that "intrusive" or "immoral" are used to dismiss. This is exactly what I was going for in the discussion of exploitation. Sadly, there are quite a few people who want to dismiss to avoid confronting discomfort.
Thank you again for the thoughtful response.
Thoughtful read, Griffin. We use Substack differently. I use Notes to share quick prompts and keep photographers moving, you use essays to unpack ideas. Both have a place, the conversation matters more than the format. Marco
Hey Marco, you're definitely right, and I do realize that I may not be the intended audience of your posts. I hope that the conversation about photography can continue to grow and include a diverse range of opinion. Thank you for reading this and providing some feedback, I greatly appreciate it!
Thanks, Griffin. I agree, different voices and approaches are what make this space worthwhile. Wishing you well with your work and projects.
This is a pretty meaty post, Griffin. It triggered a lot of thoughts.
The title of your Substack, which is well chosen, reminded me of the Anthropocene exhibition I saw at the Art Gallery of Ontario in Toronto in the summer of 2018.
I was struck by the devastating truth of the damage we are doing to the environment, and how that message contrasted with the beautiful colours, composition, and artistic presentation of Edward Burtynsky’s photographs. The cost and size of the huge photographic prints suggest that they were designed to grace the interiors of corporate offices or the lobbies of glass towers. There seemed to be such a disconnect.
But it got me thinking about how an ugly truth—an inconvenient truth—should be captured and communicated using photography. We expect beauty from art, but not all art strives to be beautiful. Is “terrible beauty” a thing? Does a beautiful presentation cancel a terrible message, allowing us to side with truth while hiding its visibility behind art? Can we depict despair and devastation without aestheticising it? I’m just thinking out loud here.
Thank you for the feedback and for sharing your thoughts Mark!
Edward Burtynsky has certainly been an inspiration to me, and seeing his work has pushed me to place greater emphasis on the print. But I agree about the disconnect - in fact, he is explicitly uncritical of the Anthropocene. According to his biography in the book Manufactured Landscapes (the companion to an exhibition at the National Gallery of Art in Ottawa), he is quoted saying it would be hypocritical to make a moral or political statement using his work. I believe this notion neuters the power of his images and should be rejected. Without a meaningful stance, the aestheticisation of industry will only serve to whitewash their impact on the world. It also allows the artist to live under an illusion of objectivity.
While I approach the same general topic as Burtynsky, I believe I differentiate myself by focusing on the experience of living in this era. I may take photos of industrial installations or human damage to the environment, but I hope to transmit the emotional reaction I feel when walking into those scenes. Those photos are meant to be sequenced with images of the surrounding communities to show the connection between industrial development and modern lifestyles. I am also concerned with social aspects of the Anthropocene, such as advertising, surveillance, and growing economic inequality, to name a few. Hopefully, tying these threads together will create work that gives greater understanding and empowerment to the audience rather than simply aestheticising devastation.
Clearly, your project requires a curated selection of images arranged in a considered sequence, so I understand your interest in creating a photobook. It would be difficult to communicate your message in a single image—even a set of three would be more effective.
Your photos of Mount Royal are compelling, especially the juxtaposition of the graveyard with commercial signage and the communication towers. With a single image, the viewer might not know what to focus on; with three or more images framing a visual contradiction, the intent becomes clearer. A book would allow for a deeper, more nuanced, and less hurried conversation.
When I walked up Mount Royal with my family in July 2023, I was struck by the number of people taking selfies at the famous lookout, with central Montreal as a backdrop. They had walked all that way, only to see a portal to somewhere else—where their smiling selves could take centre stage, immersed in a stream of shiny little hearts and colourful balloons. I found it both bizarre and sad.