Recently I was part of a conversation about photography, focused on some technical questions about equipment, in which one participant sought to define the issue by writing that you are only has good as your poorest picture.

Simple and direct sayings like this one may have the virtue of quickly clarifying an important concept or truth and (something I could learn more about!) doing so in few words. Unfortunately, there are often downsides, too. Because they are so declamatory, it is easy for some people to simply accept them without thinking. Being simple, they often don’t fit all cases. And sometimes they are just plain wrong.

In this case, this notion seems to me to be dead wrong and to not fit at all what we actually know and observe about photography. In fact, I think that the opposite is actually true — photographers are actually as good as their best pictures. 

Think of whichever photographer or photographers you regard as “the best” from your perspective, and think of what it is about these photographers and their work that makes them memorable and powerful. Think of a photograph or two that embody the aesthetic, expressive, emotional, or documentary power of their work. I’m virtually certain that you are thinking of their best work, and that this defines them for you. In fact, I’d wager that you probably cannot even think of examples of awful work by those photographers.

If you buy into certain popular mythologies about photographers and photography, you might imagine that this is because they were consummate masters who had the skill and vision to produce only wonderful work. If so, you need to readjust your perspective. In fact, every photographer produces a lot of banal or even bad work.

A favorite story and point of reference comes from photographer Alan Ross, who was one of the people privileged to work as Ansel Adam’s assistant. He writes:

“When I first went to work as Ansel’s assistant, one of the things that struck me the most was the realization, while going through boxes and boxes of his work, that he had made an awful lot of very ordinary photographs! I was somewhat stunned to learn that he had no illusions and no expectations that every film he exposed would wind up being another one of what he fondly called his ‘Mona Lisas.'”

“As an awe-struck young photographer in the presence of The Master, this revelation was an incredible relief to me; it came as a release from the burden of expecting myself to produce only perfection. It was better to experiment and try things that might work, and openly and simply respond to feelings than to over intellectualize. In fact I soon came to learn that one of Ansel’s favorite phrases was ‘The Perfect is the Enemy of the Good!'”

If you look around enough, you can most certainly find some pretty banal photographs by Adams — for example, take a look at some of his color photography. But that arguably unremarkable work does not define Adams. Instead he was as good as his best work.

You, too, are as good as your best photographs. And one of the best ways to improve that quality of that “best photography” is to continuously work to improve and perfect it and to discover new ways to see and photograph, embracing your mistakes and failures and learning from each of them.

• “Yellow Buildings, Shadows, Moving Clouds” was originally posted here — along with a story about previous failures to produce a successful photograph of this subject.

Morning Musings are somewhat irregular posts in which I write about whatever is on my mind at the moment.

G Dan Mitchell is a California photographer and visual opportunist whose subjects include the Pacific coast, redwood forests, central California oak/grasslands, the Sierra Nevada, California deserts, urban landscapes, night photography, and more.
Blog | About | Flickr | Twitter | Facebook | Google+ | 500px.com | LinkedIn | Email

Text, photographs, and other media are © Copyright G Dan Mitchell (or others when indicated) and are not in the public domain and may not be used on websites, blogs, or in other media without advance permission from G Dan Mitchell.