Along These Rivers: Department of Irony

I will no longer be selling the Along These Rivers book on my web site. The publishers are refusing to sell me any additional books because I have criticized the project in this blog. Despite my comments on the book itself being overwhelmingly positive (enough so to generate several orders), it seems that any questioning of the management of the project is deemed “hateful”, so I am no longer permitted to purchase any more copies. I have refunded the money of all those who placed orders.

The irony of this situation (if the irony of poetry publishers objecting to freedom of expression wasn’t enough for you!), is that one of the photographs of mine accepted for publication in this book came about specifically because of my being on the receiving end of blunt criticism myself. I posted my original version of Live Oak and Vines on the web and several people responded positively. But one didn’t like it at all. In fact, he was very harsh and criticized it severely, saying in the end that he thought it was “a sucky photo”.

Everyone loves to hear their work praised and no one enjoys being told that there are faults with it. But the person with the criticism was an experienced and talented photographer whose opinion I respected greatly. At first this made the rejection worse. But after a brief period of anger and frustration I accepted the possibility that… he just might have some valid points to offer. Reading this in print it seems obvious, but accepting that criticism of your work might have validity is much more difficult when it actually happens, especially if you have a great deal emotionally invested in the work, as most artists do.

Black and white photography is often much more challenging than color, and some images are particularly difficult to get right. Ansel Adams would spend hundreds of hours fine tuning the shadow and highlight detail and overall tonality of a print. Digital technology has made this process faster (and you don’t have to put up with the smell of the chemicals), but it’s still quite time consuming and difficult. Starting from scratch from the original file, I spent a many hours adjusting and balancing the tonality of the image, trying to make the highlights stand out without being excessive, burning down the shadow areas without losing all detail. Fine art image printing can be a frustrating experience, but after a week I had the image looking the way it always should have. Although the original had looked all right before, the new version had become a portfolio-quality standout. I have a 12 x 18 inch print that is quite stunning. Looking at it now I can’t imagine how I could have found the original version even acceptable.

It wasn’t those who unthinkingly praised the original image who were responsible for it becoming an addition to my portfolio, it was the person who had the honesty and integrity to stand up and tell me the truth I didn’t want to hear. The only road to improvement open to anyone lies precisely in the direction of one’s faults; the direction one is least likely to want to look.

Without my friend’s blunt criticism my photo never would have become good enough to get accepted into Along These Rivers. Ah, irony.