Perspective

As a photographer, one of the choices you have to make is whether or not to capture everything that your lens can see. For most, framing a shot is inherently the art we’ve come to know as photography. For others, anything done in post-processing assuages what deficits we couldn’t deal with in the moment of capture. Regardless of your photographic ontology, the fact is that the world seldom agrees with your choices, moments, or aesthetics, so it’s generally up to you to move your feet and make the most of the situation.

I suppose wars have been fought over less, this semi-religious adherence to the perfectionism that is “framing” or “post-processing.” The fact of the matter is, as human beings, our views are as fallible and predictable as the changing of the seasons. God forbid we crop, accentuate colours or their absence, or perhaps even venture into the wilds of composite photographs. The purity of “straight out of the camera” is, after all, close to God’s heart.

Here’s the thing, though: Our world is as ugly as it is beautiful. People are as cruel as they are kind. Life is as whipsawed and broken as it is a journey of fantastic opportunity and possibilities. And, when we try to capture these moments in words, photos, songs, or otherwise, we’re inevitably layering our personal experiences on top of the broken spaces around us. This is our art: fully human, irrational, beautiful.

I’m bringing all of this up because we tend to “rage bait”, attempting to use hyperbole (as I’ve done) to draw controversy into a public sphere so that we can converse about topics that bite at our ankles and poke at our minds. It’s not always done with good intent; often, these are hottakes designed to offend more than engage and project more than embrace.

In the image above, the context you’re missing is the massive amount of construction detritus ringing the base of the Chicago Bean. It’s everywhere: chain link fencing, nylon lining on the same, bags of concrete, plastic dropcloths, etc. It’s a work in progress, and given the mirrored surface of the sculpture, it’s present everywhere you choose to focus. Rather than spend time trying to work around the angles and shove my camera through the various holes in the fabric lining the fencing, I instead went up, climbing onto a concrete pedestal lining the walkway to catch the unsullied top and city skyline.

One could argue that the authenticity of what I chose to capture was somehow less than total, that the construction detritus is as much a part of the story of a city that truly never sleeps. And yet, despite all of this, my memories of it, the times I’ve visited in the last decade, and the stories I’ve told beside, around, and with it have all been with an eye towards its enmeshment in the city. As such, capturing its upper curvature, as it reflects the brick, stone, steel, and glass around it, is more compelling of a story to me than the opposite, more grounded in present circumstances.

Regardless of how you frame your stories, choose your narratives, and enjoin into the flow of the world around you, you are a creator with a unique perspective. You give voice and light to the perspectives you bring, different as they may be from the ever-conforming world. This is something to be proud of and to embrace, for no one will ever tell a story like you, even with all of our AI-assisted techno-fuckery. Find your joy in retelling meaningful things, and let none detract from it.

May it ever be so.