Via d2r
{The most exciting phrase to hear in science, the one that heralds new discoveries, is not “Eureka!” but “That's funny …”}
— Sir Isaac Asimov
I know what you are thinking – this has absolutely nothing to do with photography – but I beg to differ.
In photojournalism, for instance, it's when we allow ourselves to discover images as they unfold before us (versus manufacturing them) that we get a greater sense of our subjects and, indirectly, of who we are.
Several years ago, I was photographing in Maine's oldest African-American church – A.M.E. Green Memorial Church. The photo-shoot had felt labored and quite frankly pointless, because I just wasn't feeling the images. When I pointed my camera, I wasn't entirely sure if the folks who were dressed in their Sunday best were posing for me or mocking me. The pastor hadn't understood why I was documenting the church and its parishioners. But several weeks into the project for Salt magazine (unpublished, unfortunately), I photographed Floyd Zell holding a basket for offerings in front of the church.
It may have been his first time in front of the congregation. Zell's tiny legs were crossed, his expression one of wonder. The gospel music in the background was electric. He stood there patiently for the music to wrap up. I remember people clapping their hands and declaring halleleujahs, Amens and praises to Jesus. Some had moved out of the pews and into the aisles where they began speaking in tongue.
For me, it was an epiphany. That was the moment when things came together and I knew what I was doing there. Access is usually the first stumbling block to an assignment or a project. But it is the more insidious, lack of purpose, that can have one swerving like an uncontrollable kite. Once purpose was established, I could somehow let my creative juices flow.
And, yeah, I did say to myself – “That's funny …”