The Thing Itself
Our faith in the truth of a photograph rests on our belief that the lens is impartial, and will draw the subject as it is, neither nobler nor meaner. This faith may be naïve and illusory (for though the lens draws the subject, the photographer defines it), but it persists. The photographer’s vision convinces us to the degree that the photographer hides his hand.”
John Szarkowski “The Photographer’s Eye”
Many years ago, a small ship was scuttled at the end of a pier to create a breakwater. For years I have driven by it, photographing when possible. I am still working to make the image that conveys what I feel about this subject.
It is not the idea of this ship acting as a breakwater that I find compelling, rather it is the physical decay of the object itself. It reminds me, on a smaller scale, of Sebastiao Salgado’s images from Chittagong Shipyard in Bangladesh. This ship comes nowhere close to the magnitude of those vessels, but it does have a useful existence as a breakwater. Rather than ship breakers taking it apart, nature is gradually forcing it to fall in on itself. How much longer it will exist I don’t know but this rusting hulk, the thing itself, rising from the mud at low tide demands to be photographed.
Over several trips I have failed to capture the images I saw in my mind’s eye but I continue to feel compelled to travel to it. For months I’ve organized my schedule around the tide charts, returning time and again to try to make the photographs I’ve visualized.
Last week I returned on a wet, miserable day in May that felt more like March. I went in spite of the wind and rain hoping the lousy weather would give me dramatic skies and frothing water. Unfortunately, I didn’t work long because I couldn’t keep the rain off the front of my lens and I didn’t want to change lenses and risk getting water on the sensor. I worked as best I could but I left frustrated.
On first look at the work, I thought I had utterly failed. Nothing lived up to the image I thought I was meant to make. On a second and later third edit, I did find a few images that felt truthful. The picture at the top of this essay speaks to the dignity of this old ship without showing the hand of the photographer. What I went through to make the image is unimportant if the image speaks to the truth of the thing itself.
Respond to the grace, which compels you to photograph. Your responsibility is to define the truth of your image without showing your hand.
tillman