Welcome back to our continually deepening 'The Art of Seeing' series. As we progress, the topics grow richer and the insights more layered. This week, we delve into the compelling notion that 'unseeing' our ingrained biases and preconceptions is the key to liberating ourselves from the echo chambers and false 'whys' that dictate not just what we capture but how we interpret the world around us. Let's dive right in.
Whether we acknowledge them or not, preconceptions are the silent narrators of our lives. Invisible yet influential, these assumptions find their way into the hidden corners of our subconscious, often planted by parents, guardians, societal rules, or fears—fear of failure, fear of the unknown, and more. In the realm of photography or filmmaking, they shape our choices of subject, composition, and timing, even dictating the narratives we spotlight or leave in the shadows. And their influence doesn't stop at the lens; it ripples out, subtly coloring our values, biases, and actions.
So why pay attention to these quiet influencers? Because recognizing them is not the endpoint—it's the beginning of a transformation.
Unexamined preconceptions can act like a filter, one that limits our work to a predictable range and a recurring set of parameters. However, it's the act of challenging these biases that unlocks their restrictive grip, opening doorways to a richer visual vocabulary and, perhaps as a subtle ripple effect, a fuller engagement with the world.
In challenging these silent narrators, we make room for nuance and complexity, both in our art and, as a gentle ripple effect, in our lives.
From Crayons to Cameras
Long before we pick up a camera or smartphone, our journey of visual understanding starts with a blank canvas—in many cases, a piece of paper on a dining room table or even a wall that we're not supposed to draw on. Armed with crayons, a child's first artistic endeavors are almost archetypal: the sun is yellow, the grass is green, and faces are composed of rudimentary shapes. These aren't random choices; they reflect early lessons about the world and how to represent it. From day one, these simplified symbols are the building blocks of a lifelong visual vocabulary.
The Storybook Phase: Pictorial Moralities
As the child matures, so do the sources of their visual input. Storybooks replace blank sheets of paper, each page featuring illustrations that serve as both entertainment and "ethical" lessons. The wicked witch, the handsome or beautiful hero, the wise elder, and the foolish jester—these visual archetypes become ethical indicators. They subtly teach the child to associate certain appearances with traits like goodness, evil, bravery, or wisdom.
But how do these simplistic and often cartoonish associations transition into adulthood? They leave an emotional imprint, evolve into cognitive shortcuts, and find reinforcement through culture and media. As adults, we may unknowingly project these early learned archetypes onto real individuals and situations, subtly guiding our judgments, aesthetic choices, and even our own narratives in photography and filmmaking.
Why question these ingrained archetypes as adults? Failing to do so can limit our creative scope, locking us into a narrow range of socially approved narratives and subjects. The wild part is, many people don't even realize they're being influenced both internally and externally and may mistake this influence for intuition. Challenging our own assumptions and biases is crucial. By doing so, we can craft richer, more nuanced stories that better reflect our individual perspectives and the world's inherent complexity. Otherwise, we risk perpetuating someone else's image or stories, not our own.
Schooling the Eye: Culture and Curriculum
Rolling along, we enter the education system, and suddenly, history books, art classes, and even math problems become a new medium for shaping visual biases. Ever notice how historically significant events or places are depicted in specific, often romanticized ways? Or how certain art movements are emphasized over others? Even the geometry of shapes in math class can subconsciously shape how we later frame compositions in photography. The curriculum isn't neutral; it's a cultural lens that further molds our visual expectations.
The Social Media Epoch: Algorithms and Echo Chambers
Then comes the smartphone, the internet, and social media—accelerating and complicating the formation of visual biases like never before. Algorithms tailor what you see based on what you've already liked, trapping you in a visual echo chamber. Your biases are affirmed and amplified, creating a feedback loop that can severely narrow your creative vision. It's a curated world that paradoxically limits while offering the illusion of infinite choice.
So why break free from this comforting echo chamber? Because staying within this algorithmically curated world confines us to what's already accepted, leaving us in perpetual stagnation. The 'risk' of venturing beyond the comfort zone of your feed is actually an opportunity for creative renewal. It allows us to discover untapped subjects, styles, and compositions, challenging our predefined ideas of what is 'photogenic' or 'cinematic' and ultimately enriching our artistic expression.
Through the Lens: The Camera as Projector and Mirror
Finally, when an individual decides to dive into photography, these years of visual programming become both as a starting point and a constraint. The camera lens serves as both a projector and a mirror for these ingrained biases. While they provide a foundational language for creative expression in the early years, they also ensnare you, limiting your vision to what you've been conditioned to see as beautiful, relevant, or worthy of capture.
Many people remain blissfully unaware of this dynamic, as acknowledging it would mean questioning their deep-seated values, beliefs, and work—a reality too discomforting for some. However, for those rebellious people willing to confront their biases, doing so marks the first step towards more expansive vision and more impactful work.
Up until that moment, our perspectives have been subtly but firmly molded by the world around us, from popular media to history books, all channeling us into specific ways of 'seeing.' We often adhere to these inherited templates in photography, filmmaking, and visual arts. These guidelines serve as an initial roadmap, helping us navigate a blank canvas's infinite possibilities. However, the next pivotal step in our creative journey might be to practice the art of 'unseeing.' This is more than a negation; it's a deliberate act of questioning and deconstructing the visual and narrative formulas we've come to rely on. It isn't about throwing away your toolkit of techniques or visual knowledge up to that point; it's about widening that toolkit by setting aside the familiar and welcoming the unfamiliar.
For example, consider the nauseating recurring pattern in photography that often shows individuals as victims, a narrative commonly found in photo contests or prestigious exhibitions. This portrayal is not just an artistic choice; it's a manifestation of collective preconceptions about what constitutes 'compelling' or 'award-worthy' work. This narrative has been so deeply ingrained that it doesn't just influence the artists; it shapes the judgments of critics, curators, and even the public.
If you look around critically, you'll begin to recognize these recurring themes—and many others that are similar—for what they are: limiting constructs that keep us from exploring the multifaceted complexities of human experience and expression.
This cyclical reinforcement of a single narrative creates a feedback loop reminiscent of the mythical serpent eating its own tail. It begins early; we're socialized as children to recognize specific emotional cues and narrative elements as indicators of 'serious' or 'meaningful' photography. Over time, these early teachings calcify into rigid guidelines, leading the masses to blindly replicate what has historically been deemed successful.
The issue is self-perpetuating, constricting our creative horizons and preventing us from exploring the winding complexities of human experience. As professionals in the visual arts, it's not just beneficial but crucial to step back and question these deeply rooted perspectives. Doing so allows us to produce work that better reflects our individual viewpoints and the multifaceted realities we aim to capture. In breaking free from this self-sustaining cycle, we make space for innovation and original expression, enriching not just our work but the entire artistic community.
When we unsee, we make room for unexplored subjects, experiment with unconventional compositions, and even challenge the social and cultural biases that inform what we deem 'worthy' of being captured. Doing this allows us to better adapt to the fluid demands of creativity. The more we embrace this practice, the more versatile and adaptable our skills become, and while this practice might appear focused solely on the act of creation, its impact reverberates subtly into how we perceive and interact with the world at large—making our work not just a collection of frames but a dynamic dialogue between our inner and outer worlds.
In the end, when we're long gone, every image we create will remain as a form of self-portrait, capturing not just the subject but also a reflection of our own lens on the world. Isn't that the ultimate goal with anything creative? When we manage to navigate beyond the ingrained biases and preconceptions discussed, each frame not only showcases the world but also reveals a deeper, more nuanced version of ourselves—whether we physically appear in the frame or not.
❤️🔥🌊🌙
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