To really appreciate a new piece of music, I need to hear it at least 20 times so that I can own it in my mind. The same can be said for photography. I have to spend time with an image before I feel like I've seen it. I have to think about it. I have to search for metaphors in my responses. Sometimes I need to know a little bit about the photographer so I can put their photograph in the context of their career. The idea that photography is something to be glanced at just sits wrong with me on so many levels.

HT1878 - Twenty Times

Random Observations on Art, Photography, and the Creative Process. These talks focus on the creative process in fine art photography. LensWork editor Brooks Jensen side-steps techno-talk and artspeak to offer a stimulating mix of ideas, experience, and observations from his 50 years as a fine art photographer, writer, and publisher. Topics include a wide range of subjects from finding subject matter to presenting your work, and building an audience. 
Included in this RSS Feed are the LensWork Podcasts — posted weekly, typically 10-20 minutes exploring a topic a bit more deeply — and our almost daily Here's a thought… audios (extracted from the videos.) Here's a thought… are snippets, fragments, morsels, and tidbits from Brooks' fertile (and sometimes swiss-cheesy) brain. Usually just a minute or two. Always about photography and the art life.
Brooks Jensen is the publisher of LensWork, one of the world's most respected and award-winning photography publications, known for its museum-book quality printing and luxurious design. LensWork has subscribers in over 73 countries. He is the author of 13 books on photography and the creative life -- the latest books are The Best of the LensWork Interviews (2016), Photography, Art, and Media (2016), and the four annual volumes of Seeing in SIXES (2016-2019).

Arts

Literature

Performing Arts

Design

Food

Fashion & Beauty

Visual Arts

I suppose all of us have, from time to time, been mesmerized by a piece of artwork. It grabs us, it seduces our attention, it fills our consciousness. Why? What is it about a piece of artwork that gives it this power to influence us so deeply? Maybe not 100% of the time, but most frequently I find this happens when the artwork engages my imagination, when it allows me to drop my normal awareness of the world and to be transported to a world of its making.

HT1891 - Grabbed by Artwork

A friend of mine is downsizing in preparation for moving to a retirement community. She can't find anyone who wants her extensive collection of sheet music. Another friend is finding it difficult to find a home for her collection of dinnerware and silver. No one wants them. It seems like the younger generation values collecting experiences far more than collecting things. I've come to regard this as the joy and burden of ownership. What are the implications for our fine art photographs?

HT1890 - Experiences or Things

On a whim, I decided to look back at the entire collection of my work that has been published in Kokoro. So far, that consists of 172 projects containing 2,432 images. I was happy and proud to publish every one of them — at the time. Needless to say, some have not stood the test of time as well as others. That's good.

HT1889 - A Self-assessment

Ask most people what makes a fabulous landscape photograph and they will unhesitatingly say a fabulous landscape. That is, the magic is out there. This implies that the photographer is simply a faithful recorder of the scene. Ask most photographers what they actually do when they are out photographing and they will tell you they are looking for the spectacular scene.

HT1888 - Photography's Fascination with the Rare

I distinctly remember in my youth being encouraged to consider archival properties and longevity of my images as one of the primary goals of processing my prints. It was just assumed that it was important that our work survive 50 or 100 years when it would be valued by generations yet unborn. But now that I've been in photography for 50 years, I can't help but notice that my bookshelves are filled with photographers who have disappeared in the obscurity of time. I know that's the fate for my work, too, and that prompts me to consider other strategies.

HT1878 - Twenty Times

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