After a few months pass, I reflect on a photo that I invested a liberal amount of time and effort into. And with a fresh perspective I think, “That’s some top-notch work, Jake!” It’s just as good as other works by photographers that you admire.” I frame it, hang it on the wall, stand back, and feel a potent sense of pride over something I created. But then I realize the picture only speaks to me, and the pride fades. I contrived the picture above to say “Baudrillard, Lyotard, postmodernism, late capitalism, simulacra, repetition of images, fragmented identity.” I shot the subject blurry and the window ads clear to demonstrate an idea; The composition, to me, whispers “We value perfect images of models created by an advertising agency over our skewed self-image.” But again, unfortunately, only I discern those anomalies from the photo. Just like with all valued art, great photographers author images that convey meaning or emotion to the masses. I shot and edited my photo to say something that only I recognize, in the desperate hope that someone else, anyone else, may relate to these concepts. If one other soul captures any of those ideas from this picture it would be a miracle, magical. Art is an outcry from the artist, to someone or anyone, screaming, “If you perceive any of the sentiments I am trying to express in this work, then you see a part of me! Inside of me, you understand me.”
P.S. - I previously posted a larger image of this pic below.