I heard a photographer say that he knew he had “made” it when his family stopped liking his photos. He is a fine art photographer who does conceptual work and his family thought he had deviated into “weird” rather than “good.” It wasn’t something they could really grasp.
Some of the fellow’s family members thought this photo was lacking because it’s not all in focus. I didn’t want it to all be in focus, which is why I used an f-stop of 5.6 at 300 mm on my telephoto lens. It’s an intimate look at a man over 90 years old, deep in thought, enjoying a quiet moment with his son at the cottage he built with his own hands and had been spending time every summer since his children were toddlers. I like it a lot. It’s difficult to smile because others want you to rather than because it feels right to you. At this point in his life, he had a lot to look back on and was ready to close the book. If I had waved at him and he saw the camera, he would have taken off his hat and given me a big smile, but I love capturing moments that aren’t contrived or forced or obligated. I guess what I want to do with the camera is to capture souls when I point it at someone.
So, then, to get back to what that photographer said, because some family doesn’t care for it, does that mean it’s really good? I have some other shots of family that “aren’t good” because the head isn’t all in or I’ve done something else that I like but doesn’t fall in the generic convention of all the person being in the shot in a way that doesn’t require the brain to fill in any pieces. Should we care if someone else thinks our work is good if we love it ourselves?
It’s nice to be appreciated and valued, but not everyone is going to get it. Tell your stories as you see and feel them. Find folk whose work you respect to inspire you and help push you to new levels and don’t be limited by the limitations of others.