How to Respond to Criticism

How should you respond to criticism?

You shouldn’t. At least not a first. The best thing you can do with criticism is to let it simmer, sit and settle. You don’t want to let it fester and become something bigger than it is. Read it, listen to it, take it in, and file it away. Let it cool down a little. Come back to it later, when you’ve had time to mull it over. Do not, under any circumstances, overreact to criticism.

When I first started taking photography seriously in early 2009 I was very sensitive about my work. I wanted people to see it and I wanted people to like it – I desperately wanted people to like it – and I also didn’t handle criticism very well. In many cases I simply refused to accept it. I considered any and all comments critical of my work an affront to me and not to the work in question.

This is, of course, a very dangerous way of behaving. As artists, as photographers, we need criticism. We need it to grow and to learn and to improve. You can’t take what you perceive as good (comments! Applause! Adulation! LOVE!) and ignore the bad, no matter how sharp, cynical or caustic you think it may be (often it is not).

Here’s another way of looking at criticism.

When someone takes the time to look at one of my images and levy an opinion – positive or negative (depending, of course, on the way I perceive it) that likely says that the person commenting either a) respects me as a photographer, or b) respects my work itself enough to comment on it. While all of us may yearn for gushing praise, what does that sort of thing tell us about our work? Not much, in my opinion. I’d rather someone suggest a way I could improve rather than dump a bucket of praise on my head. I’d rather post an image online (flickr, Facebook, twitter, etc.) and receive one intelligent, critical piece of feedback than ten thoughtless purple balloons filled with nonsensical back-slapping.

Let us now look at an example or two.

I shot this image back in the fall of 2008. At the time I shot this, man oh man, was I ever proud of it! I thought this really was something else; striking, beautiful, artistic. All of that and a bag of potato chips. Then I shared it with some friends. At first, their feedback was devastating. It took me a while to realize that the only thing under attack was my ego.

Commentary 1.

Critic: The image is a little soft. I think you could have benefited from shooting off of a tripod.

Me: Yeah, but I didn’t have a tripod! I think I did a great job keeping it steady.

Commentary 2.

Critic: The composition is weak. There’s no foreground element. Your horizon is dead in the center of the frame. Haven’t you ever heard of the rule of thirds?

Me: Yeah, but rules were made to be broken! (But actually, I don’t understand the rule of thirds. What’s up with that?)

Commentary 3.

Critic: This sucks.

Me: You suck.

Three people looked at this image and decided to share their thoughts with me. They saw things in the image I didn’t see and they shared their thoughts with me. I should have been open and receptive to their feedback; instead, I was defensive. I couldn’t see the forest for the trees.

I didn’t want to get that kind of feedback anymore. It hurt my pride, maybe even my feelings (I’m only human, right?) I decided to do something about it. I decided I wouldn’t argue back. I decided I would take the feedback and make something out of it. I would file those comments somewhere in my memory to be used the next time I shot a similar image. Subsequently, whenever I went out to shoot a landscape image I would think back to these pieces of early feedback when surveying a scene.

Where is my horizon?

Think about the rule of thirds!

How sharp is my image going to be? Do I need a tripod?

Does this suck?

Of course, more goes into an image than this, but I would always and forever remember these little nuggets of wisdom. I made them a part of my everyday photography thought process.

More importantly, critical feedback has inspired me to learn and shoot more. When someone gives me a tip I try to learn from it instead of dismissing it off-hand. This doesn’t mean critical feedback doesn’t irk me any less; trust me, it does. I’ve just learned how to deal with it better. I’ve learned how to learn from it, in a way.

 

I remember standing on the shore at Lake Tekapo and that old 2008 image rolled through my mind. I started to wonder what sort of feedback I’d receive on these images and what people might say.

I thought about the strides I’ve made as a photographer over the last few years. I know that I wouldn’t be where I am or be able to shoot what I shoot without some of the feedback I’ve been honored to receive along the way. I’m glad I don’t simply dismiss feedback anymore. Even if there are those out there that think this stuff sucks.

 

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I’ve touched on feedback once before on my blog. I talked about internalizing critical feedback and turning it into something positive. I still believe in that.

Food for thought.

- Flash

Grand Tetons National Park, Wyoming

I mentioned in my last post how visiting the Grand Tetons turned into a watershed moment in my photography career. I’m not sure if I’d call it a turning point or an epiphany or something else entirely, but it was important and it changed the way I approach and appreciate photography.

This expedition was more about capturing reality than interpreting it. For a long time I’ve taken pride in interpreting reality and being able to craft images where once upon a time no image existed; I’m talking in large part about much of my flash/strobist work (portraits, abstracts, whatever else). Visiting the Tetons became a challenge; craft images where hundreds and thousands of photographers have worked before.

I wanted my Tetons portfolio to be uniquely me and not simply another take on the work of Ansel Adams and Thomas Mangelsen. Initially I thought about lugging a bunch of lights and filters and all manner of other tools around with me to create something of my own. Then I gave up on that. I decided to put myself in positions and locations that would allow me to capture reality in a way that required little interpretation. I went out looking for light; I didn’t concern myself with creating my own. I shot without filters and decided against utilizing any post-production trickery. I dusted off my Olympus OM-2n and ran a dozen rolls of film through it. This is as close to “pure” photography as I’m ever likely to get and whether it lasts or not or ever happens to me again remains to be seen. Either way, it was fun while it lasted, opened my eyes a little wider and changed the way I work.

 

Images.

1. Our first view of the Tetons after leaving Yellowstone.

2. Starlit night at the Gros Venture campground.

3. A very early morning at Jenny Lake.

4. Jenny Lake sunrise.

5. More morning light from Jenny Lake.

6. Sunlight bursts through the aspen grove.

7. Mormon Row sunrise.

8. Moulton Barn fence.

9. A summer view from legendary Oxbow Bend.

10. Snake River Pale Ale! Good stuff.

11. Waiting for the sun to crest the hills.

12. Chasing sunset light.

13. Taming wild horses.

14. The sun goes down behind the mighty Tetons.

15. Passed a few streams on the way to Taggart Lake.

16. Looking for moose at Taggart Lake.

17. Soft light over the mountain peaks.

18. Shooting stars on Mormon Row.

19. Stephen and Kristin’s shoot at Schwabacher’s Landing; not a bad place to be married!

Yellowstone National Park, Wyoming

Our trip out to Yellowstone was remarkable; it was also one half of the photographic odyssea that changed in many ways my way of shooting and my view of photography in general (the other being the Grand Tetons). Not such a bad place for an epiphany, if you ask me.

This is but a small slice of the work we did and the things we saw while in Yellowstone. I won’t make any excuses but I will tell you that after shooting from sunrise to sundown for a week in Jackson Hole, I was a little exhausted by the time we hit Yellowstone; I didn’t quite manage to get myself out of bed for a sunrise but I did chance across one very beautiful sunset. I did, however, miss out on shooting a hellacious lightning storm over the mountains (see the first image below with all the elk? Now picture thunder clouds and giant bolts of lightning).

Of course, one of the main reasons people go to Yellowstone is to get up close and personal with the wildlife. In the course of one day we saw elk, porcupine, black bears, marmots, bald eagles, wolves, coyotes and a grizzly. I didn’t see a moose until we made it back to the Big Horn Mountains, but I won’t hold that against Yellowstone.

I’ll get more of our Yellowstone adventure online in the coming months!

 

Images.

1. Elk grazing in the shadow of a mountain as a violent storm rolls in.

2. Smokey the Bear alarm.

3. From the pinnacle of the sweeping Chief Joseph Scenic Highway.

4. Tourists often get too close to the animals. Tourists often become animal food.

5. Exploring the bubbling mud pits and hot springs near Old Faithful.

6. One of the endless bubbling hot springs in Yellowstone’s central caldera.

7. Duck rides!

8. Old Faithful, right on cue.

9. Exploring the prismatic masterpieces as a family.

10. Fly fishing in Yellowstone. Pretty cool.

11. We found this elk rack and skullcap on a hiking trail. We took turns wearing it.

12. Lower Falls. Artist’s Point.

13. More waterfall action.

14. This is by far the best way to get around Yellowstone.

15. No more room in our Wolf Pack.

Buy Yourself Something New

Don’t spend all your money on new equipment before you master your old stuff. Spend your extra milk money on a ticket to somewhere you’ve never been before. Use your old gear in a new way; don’t worry about using new gear until you know what you’ll be using it for.

I shot a wedding in Canada last weekend and ran into a very nice young fellow who was somewhat familiar with my work. As a photography enthusiast himself this young fellow was quite interested in the gear I shoot with and we got to talking about equipment. This young fellow has himself a very nice digital SLR, an 18-55mm f/3.5-5.6 kit lens and a 50mm f/1.8 prime. He asked me what he should buy next. I told him he should buy a plane ticket.

He thought I was kidding at first. It took some convincing for him to realize that I wasn’t.

I get this question often and I usually offer some variation of the response above. You can always buy new gear; new stuff comes on the market every single day. None of it alone makes you a better photographer. For that, you need experience. For that, you need to go somewhere and see something. What you put in front of your lens is more important than the lens you put in front of your face.

This holds true for any photography enthusiast but is exceptionally true when it comes to amateurs. Many amateurs – or folks just getting into photography – don’t know what they like to shoot. Most like to shoot a little bit of everything. A little macro here, some portraits there, a landscape or two for good measure and they’re having fun. With a digital SLR body, a kit lens and one quick prime to shoot in low light you have more than enough photographic firepower at your disposal to craft stunning images – just like the guy I met at the wedding. How do you know you should buy something new? How do you know you’ll use it a month from now?

Only when you start to refine your craft should you look at expanding your kit. If you outgrow the kit lens and the prime and want to start shooting portraits with razor-thin depth of field, you might start looking at an 85mm f/1.4 prime lens. If you get into sports and want to capture action the way you see it then perhaps you should break the bank on a 70-200mm f/2.8 zoom. Say you find that travel photography is your passion – a wide and fast 16-35mm f/2.8 might have to go on your Christmas wish list. But if you are a budding photographer just starting to get your feet wet? Spend your hard-earned money on a trip to an exotic destination and shoot with what you’ve got. I don’t know of a better way to find out exactly what it is you want to shoot. You certainly can’t do that browsing the goods at Best Buy.

I meet a lot of photographers with very extensive kits and very weak portfolios. I knew photographers in South Korea who couldn’t go on vacation during the summer because they had spent all of their money on new camera equipment. What good does that do you? I’d rather ride off into a Mongolian sunset with a point-and-shoot compact in my pocket than sit on the sofa brushing the dust off my new $3,500 lens. Pack what you’ve already got and go somewhere you’ve never been.

Buy more experience.

In 2008 I went on my first serious photography tour with my friend Len. Len and I had been into the photography game for about six months and we had comparable kits; consumer DSLRs, kit lenses, one fast prime and a crummy super zoom (that I still have and curse at from time to time). A few weeks prior to booking the trip I remember going to our local camera shop and thinking that I could buy a new lens – I had my eye on a nifty 70-200mm f/2.8 beauty at the time – and cut short the trip by a week or go full bore on this photographic odyssey. In the end common sense won out; Len challenged me to try and earn enough money by selling images taken on our trip to buy the big lens later.

I’m glad I didn’t buy that lens that day. I didn’t know enough about the equipment I did have to warrant purchasing something new. I wasn’t good enough at the time to see any benefit from something new. That lens would have been just one more thing to carry around with me. So, I went to work on honing my craft and getting more out of the equipment I already had at my disposal. I became a better photographer by studying and shooting and experiencing – I upgraded my skillset and not my gear. Since then I’ve spent a lot of time buying experiences and not much time at all buying equipment. I never did go back to buy that 70-200mm f/2.8 zoom. I found out I didn’t really need it after all.

Consider this; while the allure of new gear is undeniably strong, the lure of the road, once you’ve been out on it, is stronger. Spend more time as a photographer and less as a consumer and you’ll be better for it.

So, to my new friend in Canada; I hope that answers your question. See you on the road.