PhotoDude.com

Wed. Apr 21, 2004

Photography, Politics, Instinct, and Process

As if I had any influence at all over the coming election, I’ve had a couple of people question my overall position, since I don’t seem to be happy with Bush in many ways, yet I also have criticized Kerry. And I certainly haven’t publicly “declared” myself either way.

Questions of this kind at first make me feel a bit guilty that I haven’t been clearer here, or reached my conclusion more quickly based on what others see as plain evidence (one way or the other). Then I think, “wait a minute, what obligation do I have to say anything? What reason is there for me to publish a presidential choice now, when that’s a decision I don’t have to make for six more months, and will cast in the privacy of a voting booth?”

So let’s not talk about that right now. Let’s talk about the process by which this particular human being makes “creative choices.” Because that core process might instruct us on other areas. And allow us to jokingly point out, we aren’t quite yet on the imminent point of a life-or-death decision (as many appear to see this, judging by their near frenzy).

Back when I got my first camera 23 years ago, “photography” was an entirely instinctive process; you see something visually appealing, raise the camera to your eye, “click,” smile, and move on. Then I went to photography school, where you learn to approach the subject in new ways. You learn to explore all the options. When you find a visually appealing subject, rather than click-n-run, you assess the subject. You circle it, looking at it from different angles with different lenses, you break out a compass to check the subject’s orientation to the sun, and maybe come back at a time of day when the light is different.

For some time, that becomes your process. Instinct is largely suppressed in favor of the process, because the process has taught you that your instincts don’t reveal all the options.

But with time (years, in my case), that changes once again. You find that when you go through your process, much of the time you end up realizing, “my first instinct was right,” and go back to where you started. You begin to realize that your instincts have changed somewhat. They now … subconsciously … have incorporated your “process.” Your brain sees something visually appealing, and rather than simply thinking, “kewl,” you think “that needs to be shot from a low angle with a zoom lens, and the light will be better in the late afternoon.” Except you don’t really “think” it, it’s now … your instinct. You now have what I tend to call “informed instincts,” and you have to learn to once again trust them. In a way, you’ve come full circle from that first instinctive joy that you got from photography, and returned to it “informed.”

Once you learn to trust those “informed instincts,” you also tend to avoid overanalyzing (or even verbalizing) unless and until it becomes necessary. Don’t talk about it; observe, react, and just do it.

In photography, it works well (at least, outside of any collaborative project). Don’t explain why this is the right course, just take it. Don’t talk about the picture, just show it. Perhaps the only time to talk about it is afterwards if someone asks “how could you have possibly gotten this so ‘right’?”

I’m not sure it’s a process that translates well to the political arena, but it’s one that’s served me well, so I’m going with it. I’ve got two basic instincts, and over the next six months, I intend to absorb as much of the “political process” as I can bear, and see how it challenges those two basic instincts. You might consider these “instincts” to be overly simple and ignorant of details. That’s why they’re called “instincts.”

My first instinct is that this country is in the midst of its biggest challenge of my lifetime, the War on Terror, and you don’t change horses in the middle of an ugly stream.

My second instinct is partially derived from a small childhood trauma. While most kids found The Flying Monkeys in the Wizard of Oz to be the scariest part of the movie, I thought they were pretty cool. But I was scared to death of those grumpy talking trees that threw rotten apples.

You know, the ones that looked a lot like John Kerry.

I can hear the howls already. “How can you eliminate a candidate because he reminds you of a childhood boogeyman?” Well, I didn’t exactly say I’d eliminated him … you’re missing the point of this “process.” What that specific story illustrates is a more generic and instinctive feeling of mine … I just … don’t … like him.

It’s that basic, and that human. Now, do I need to feel all warm and fuzzy about a candidate’s personality in order to think they might be an effective President? No. I don’t exactly feel “warm and fuzzy” about Bush, either. But it means you’ll have to win me over purely with facts, positions, and background. And when it comes to contrasting himself to Bush on facts, positions, and their relative backgrounds, what I mainly see from Kerry is a lot of thrown rotten apples. Maybe it is easier to toss them at Bush’s negatives than it is to try and sell your own positives. But it doesn’t move me.

However, as I’ve said, instincts change, with time, and with new perceptions. So I’m bubbling along with those two instincts, figuring I’ve got six months to get in overanalysis (or read it from others). Six months of new developments that may alter my perceptions. Plenty of time to see if those instincts are challenged.

And I have to say, they already are being challenged. Well, unfortunately, only one of them. Which is sort of the worst case scenario. That talking apple tree still hasn’t done very much to make me like him any better, but that horse in the middle of the stream is beginning to flail without purpose, making me wonder if he has the ability to properly execute his envisioned landing on a dry riverbank.

You may think these are silly surface judgments, but I assure you there is much more going on underneath. And in this case verbalization of my overanalysis is just not a part of my process. So you get the short and somewhat silly.

Which is why I also have to mention, for the sake of fairness and metaphorical grins, there is a third option beyond the Horse and the Tree: the 1964 Corvair that’s been loaded with explosives for a second suicide attack. But my instincts merely giggle at that one.

Six months is a long time. Nearly 200 “news cycles,” during which we will likely be given plenty of opportunity to observe how the two candidates react to various events. Because another thing my instincts tell me is that the next six months are going to be quite event filled, and will provide us with vital evidence about these two that we don’t yet have.

So that’s why I’m watching. And waiting. And not committing. Yet still very willing to criticize either side for what I see as their excesses, from an entirely non-partisan viewpoint. You’ll likely see me take on both candidates in detail, but if you’re trying to keep score, you’ll have to do it like I do: by a running instinctive tally, which probably isn’t going to reach a bottom line until maybe Halloween.

Because that’s my process.