I had coffee with a friend who is slightly older and much wiser than I. We met at a local coffee shop and sat at a table outside. I told him that I was sorry not to have brought along the new SL2 camera but he told me he didn't need to see the camera...he was hoping I'd just bring one of the $275 camera batteries since he'd never seen one that expensive before...
I don't know exactly why but I started to explain why I bought the new camera and he more or less stopped me and suggested that the successive purchase of cameras, along with the dogged pursuit of the blog, and my interminable walks through an over documented downtown, might all have the same purpose.
I asked him to explain and he did so with his usual economy of words. He said, "You have to stay relevant."
My connection to photography, to the blog, even to a venue like Instagram is my attempt during the long running pandemic to maintain some feeling that I am still relevant in some form.
I think he hit the nail right on the head. It certainly popped my eyes open.
To my mind that's one thing that draws all freelance creative people together; our collective need, both emotionally and for many, commercially, to feel relevant to the world outside ourselves. We want to know that we are still acknowledged and our visions and opinions broadcast. But to what end?
To say we are here? To ask the universe to count us among the people who haven't metaphorically checked out yet? To always be under consideration for the next project? To be respected for our knowledge and experience by a contemporaneous audience?
These are all interesting questions. The answers for many living in the United States of America swirl around the cultural roles for older men. Meaning anyone over 50 years old. We tend to be more isolated from, and less integrated into, our own national culture by this point in our lives and careers. For so many our identity is partially dependent on viewing ourselves by the reflections of our jobs and career pursuits.
As we age out of different parts of our cultural matrix our friendships seem to become more diffuse and our connections less strong and resilient. We might find that people we counted as friends were only work acquaintances and when our employment changed the fabric of those relationships was laid bare.
Photography is what I know how to do so I reflexively hang on tenaciously to every part of it that I can. The blog gives me a sense of connection to like minded photographers. New cameras give me a sense of adventure and purpose but mostly end up giving me something new to write about and share.
While thinking about all of this I was reminded of a photograph I shot in Rome, many years ago. It shows a group of older men sitting at an outside table in an old, residential neighborhood. Some are engaged in a game of cards while others look on or talk amongst themselves. It's the middle of a weekday. These guys are hanging out together, sharing life together. Maintaining, at least in their own group, their relevance.
One of my friends who, at the time, was a practicing psychologist in private practice saw the black and white image and asked if she could buy a print. I sold her one and she had it framed for her office. I asked her why. She said that a big part of her practice was spent helping older men who had long professional careers, many spent in the top ranks of the C suites, find their footing after retirement. The biggest issue each faced, in their own way, was a self-aware sense of lost relevance, followed closely by the loneliness brought on by losing the bulk of their work driven social connections. The photo was a jumping off point which engendered conversations about the need to re-discover relevance and social connection.
I get the point.
15 comments:
"It's not a motorcycle, baby. It's a chopper."
Wow. Your friend really did hit the nail on the head. Thank you so much for sharing these thoughts. Have to admit I've struggled with relevance since my (mostly) retirement. You have given me a lot about which to think.
Thanks for sharing Don. I think many of us suffer from the "rugged individualist" syndrome. I think it can bite us on the ego from time to time.
Reading your post, the thought that crossed my mind is that the desire for continued relevance is the flip side of ambition, without which you would not have made it as far as you did in life or your career. Thanks for the thought-provoking post - again.
Ken
For me finding relevance is in the quality of the photographs I make, not the gear. I only buy equipment to have enough backup for the the jobs I do. It's easier on my finances and it allows me to concentrate on why I make photographs. Living in the USA is living in an economy driven by consumerism, it's pounded into our heads that the metric by which success is measured is in the amount of money spent on things.
I very seldom do coffee or lunch with photographers. I prefer aerospace engineers, firemen or upholsterers. They always have something new and interesting to say about diverse subjects.
I, of course, hang on every utterance my upholsterer tosses out. They are an amazing source of hilarious anecdotes and juicy gossip. Often, when I find myself bored listless and overbearing, I grab for the online Yellow Pages and pick an upholsterer at random to invite for both coffee and lunch (because they tend to be not only endlessly captivating but also voracious!) and sit back to soak in the non-stop entertainment and wisdom. Cliff, who loves to re-upholster Barca Loungers is a fount of wry humor and, after he's tucked into a nice lunch and finished it off with a tawny port then regales me with whimsy and the most subtly nuanced stories you can imagine.
I never thought tacking could be so....riveting.
But I would never sup with an aerospace engineer again because they are often given to bursts of rage and anger. I can remember as though it was yesterday... I had invited an aerospace engineer to lunch at a delightful Ugandan restaurant. We were discussing new theories of lift when he took a sip of torgato tea and spit it out. It was, to quote him, "Six degrees too hot." He proceeded to berate the waiter and the owner of the restaurant. The argument escalated and I edged toward the exit but not before seeing the restaurant owner chop the aerospace engineer's arm off at the elbow with a very sharp macheté. You are correct; it was an fascinating lunch but I just don't have the adrenaline for that sort of thing these days.
I'm neutral about your preference for fireman but each to their own. The last time I veered away from a lunch with Elliott Erwitt to have lunch instead with Lester, a renowned firefighter, he showed up having not bathed for many days and proceeded to eat the soup course with his bare hands. Again, funny when discussed after the fact but less comfortable in the moment.
But the one species I don't lunch with is the judgemental and noxious anonymous commenter who comes complete with a big ass chip on his sloping shoulders.
I applaud your wide ranging tastes. You might get along very well with Brian who cleans out our septic system.
If you could lunch with a photographer I think you should count yourself very lucky.
Some people are horses asses.
-John Smith
Name something more frightening than oblivion...I’ll wait.
I'm fortunate to have a few colleagues in the industry I'm practicing retirement from who get in touch so we can discuss how work is going. It's a mentoring role for me - passing on what information and connections I've collected. Being relevant in that industry is no longer important to me; just want to be helpful.
My photography, on the other hand, needs more relevance. Our camera club hasn't met physically together in a year and the Zoom meetings just don't seem to provide the side chats and comparison of perspectives. I need this kind of interaction to make sure my photography stays relevant to me. I've started trying the "Tuck" approach of wandering around for exercise and photographing...well, stuff. Doing so keeps me looking out for interesting lighting, compositions, objects, etc. while testing my ability to get the best out of my equipment.
Thanks, Kirk, for the comments. Makes perfect sense.
It looks to me as if they are playing an Italian card game called "briscola" (I'm not sure of the spelling.) I played it a lot as a kid with my parents. It's interesting because in the 2-team 4-player version, it's ok to ask/tell your partner out loud what cards to play, within some parameters.
Lately I've been considering the challenges that could come with a long lifespan: Needing to work until later in life, outliving friends and family, and in general, living to see a lot of the things I once took for granted transformed beyond recognition, perhaps? I wonder if a person needs to periodically reinvent themselves as a means of finding happiness in a changed world.
I got back into shooting a little bit of film again, but not as I was doing it up until the mid-1990s (equipment-wise I had my nose stick high up in the air), but more as a lark. Yes, ISO 800 color print film shot in a half-frame Olympus Pen FT is seriously grainy, but it's also been a lot of fun, and I wonder why I never did more of that kind of farting-around before.
Jeff in Colorado
As I stare down my impending forced retirement (I still have 4 years to go, but I know how fast 4 years can pass...) the questions you raise loom larger for me. Photography has been a part of my life for a long time, but never my living, and I harbor dreams of doing relevant work but am starting to worry that any chance of artistic(?) “relevance” may have passed me by. I watch some youtube videos of some young guys doing some pretty decent film photography and discussion and think “if they could just stop saying ‘totally, man’ every 30 seconds or stop calling each other ‘dude’ it would really help them—or am I just getting old and already irrelevant. I hope not. But I do think the young lack the burden of having to throw off decades of learned habits and aesthetics, allowing their own unique vision to shine. The challenge for me is to still photograph while not becoming just an old guy with a camera making really sharp pictures...
Some appropriate thoughts that I just happened to read from the Franciscan writer Richard Rohr:
"We do not want to embark on a further journey (the second half of life) if it feels like going down, especially after having put so much sound and fury into going up (the first half of life). This is surely the first and primary reason why many people never get to the fullness of their own lives."
Rohr, Richard. Yes, and...: Daily Meditations (p. 320). Franciscan Media. Kindle Edition.
Playing cards with friends seems to be a lost past-time. I do miss a take no prisoners game of hearts every now and then. My son plays VR games with friends on a regular basis. I'm gonna wait for a brain chip upload so I can navigate play with my thoughts instead of having to rely on my ever decreasing lack of manual dexterity.
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