A journal of Nocturnes
Nocturnes – a composition, or piece of music that is inspired by, or evocative of the night.
My 2nd book project has been evolving over the past two months.
Initially, I just knew I wanted to do a second book, and had slated some time in for a trip to Iceland this December / January with the hope that something might come out of it. I had no idea at the time if the 2nd book would be about Iceland, but I did hope that it might be.
I’ve learned, that things don’t always pan out the way you intended them, and to have a fixed idea of what it is you want to do – is too rigid. Certainly, having something to focus towards is a great motivator, but I also need to leave some room for change, and be able to consider that what I’m working on might not be the right fit, and something else might be better.
My 2nd book is taking shape quite strongly now. I originally had the idea of putting a book together about the south coast of Iceland and my ventures there to photograph the black sand and ice bergs. This brought me on to think about how to merge two different shoots – one from last Summer when I created a lot of very dark, monochromatic images of the black sand and ice bergs, and the more recent shoot this December/January, where the images are much more optimistic, light in tone and as a result – have a very different feel. This created a bit of a problem for me, and I felt the book was not gelling as well as I’d liked.
I felt that I wanted to add in some stories too, and give the viewer of the images some context, an idea of what I was feeling at the time. So over the past few months stories – some almost like poetry have been creeping into the book. It started to feel like it was coming together, gelling in the way I’d hoped. So until maybe a few weeks ago, I felt the book was on the right track and that it was mostly done, just the finer points like spelling, grammar, layout to be worked on and finalised. But the peace didn’t last long. I was aware over the weeks that I felt a little like something was missing from the book, and I didn’t feel it was complete. I can only get to this point if I give my work some time to sit, let it be absorbed and get comfortable with what it truly is, as opposed to what I think it is. In other words – a sense of distance is required, and so I’m always happy to give things some time, to see if they are indeed ready or maybe need some work.
Someone asked me if I were going to put some of my older images from Iceland into the book. I’d be hesitating about doing it, because I feel they represent who I was in 2004, and don’t really have much correlation to how my photography style has moved on. But I reconsidered, decided to have a go at putting them into the book, and found that I was wrong – they worked. So much so, that the book is a sandwich of three parts – the first section starts of with coastal shots that were shot during the night, while the middle section deals with inland areas of iceland shot during the summer months and much warmer light. The last section goes back towards the coast and deals with a more lighter ending feel to the days work. It was conceptual and I didn’t even know it until I’d put the thing together and a friend commented on how it seemed to work more as a piece now.
So the book has been retitled too. I had never really been happy with the title, but since I now have a collection of images, all mostly shot during the nocturnal hours of the day (I’m a low light shooter mostly), and since all were created during pre-dawn, post-dusk, even sometimes around 3am for instance, I feel the images have an otherwordly feel to them. The stories that I’ve written have been put together from the journal that I sometimes write in. So all this kind of wraps up to give me the title of ‘a journal of nocturnes’. Nocturnes is defined as ‘a composition, or piece of music that is inspired by, or evocative of the night’. I feel my images are compositions that are evocative or inspired by the night, so I feel it’s a perfect fit.
I feel the book is much stronger now. So all that needs to be done now, is get the preface written – as I type this, my special guest whom I’ve asked if he will write something as a way of an introduction to Iceland has responded and said yes. So I’m delighted by the news.
I’ll be traveling down to Nottingham this April to put the book together with my friend Darren, and expect to have something finished and ready for release later on in the year.
I hope my posting today has given you some food for thought regarding the creative process. It is always flowing, changing. It is never static and when someone says the work is done, what they really mean is that it has reached a conclusion for the moment.
Bruce,
I am very curious in seeing your early work and i’m glad it is making its way into your next book. It’s interesting to see how one’s work cahnges through time. Sometimes there are interesting stories behind that. Could it be life changes, new interests or influences, or just a a happy accident from time to time.
Comment by mhenasey — 2 March, 2012 @ 5:09 pm
Bruce – I very much enjoyed reading this post on your blog, for several reasons. The main one comes from your comments about the creative process and your emphasis on the intuitive nature of it, especially how you value letting your images and ideas soak in over time.
I have felt this way about many things over the years, and this approach has and continues to be an important part of how I reach many business decisions.
Until a year ago when I moved back to working with film, I was much less aware of using such intuition in my photography. With my move back to film however, there is a lot more waiting around; no more can one return in the evening, download and review the day’s images, and make the edits in Photoshop. No more can a day’s work be “finished” quickly. Now there is waiting for the film to be developed. Then after repeated reviews of the images on the light table, there is the need to wait for the lab to do the scans, etc. (which in my case takes a while as I send them to a lab that is across the continent, so shipping time is involved). As a result, this waiting gives rise to the separation in time that you describe. This separation causes me to look at my work with fresh eyes at each stage. I keep finding that what I liked at the beginning, I like a lot less several weeks later and often, I find that what I didn’t like at first, I like a lot more later. This process, as you describe, is “flowing, changing” and is in fact never really done. Of course from a practical standpoint, it eventually is done or else I would never print an image or post one to my web site, but by taking time, I find I feel much more satisfied with my work.
Comment by Steve N — 2 March, 2012 @ 5:09 pm
Hi Michael,
Yes, I had a look at my older images, and thought I could re-work them to ‘fit’ the newer material, but I found out that they are what they are: a product of who I was at the time, and going back to re-edit them, gave them a feel that I wasn’t happy with. It spoiled them in the same way that musical artists spoil going back and reworking their older work too. In fact, going back and re-editing is bad in general and up until this point, I’ve always avoided it.
I’m non too sure that my ‘progress’ as a photographer has been a positive one. There is a mood and feel to the earlier images (from 2004 – already on the website) that is not present in my newer material. I feel I’ve gained, but also lost some things along the way too. Going back to have a look at my earlier work, I saw errors, inconsistencies in the compositions that I wouldn’t tolerate these days, but also, a more gentle, accepting approach to what I was doing at the time.
I often feel that creating art, whether it’s working on a book, making photographs, writing, pottery, cooking, etc, is really an absorbing way of re-connecting with ourselves in ways we don’t get a chance to during non-creative activities. Art is a reflection of life, and ourselves, and it’s been great fun me going back to look at my earlier work, which I do feel stands up rather well, but also has a sense of naivety or openness that is not present in my most recent work.
Comment by Bruce Percy — 2 March, 2012 @ 5:33 pm
Hi Steve,
Again, art imitates real life, and in your case, adopting your working process of taking time to let an idea sit with you and let it become comfortable (or maybe not so comfortable over a period of time) has mirrored itself in your photography. So art imitates your approach to conducting your professional life.
But I’m sure that your artistic outings are having an impact on how you conduct your professional working life too. Only we’re not able to see it ourselves sometimes.
thanks for the posting. I agree entirely with your thoughts as they are very close to how I see the entire thing too.
Comment by Bruce Percy — 2 March, 2012 @ 5:36 pm
Hi Bruce,
I am very happy to hear that your 2nd book is taking shape, I’m looking forward to reading it. I had such an amazing time reading your first book, and I insist on using the verb “reading” since, although it’s a photography book, I found the text to be extremely valuable and useful in its own right.
All the best,
Dumitru
Comment by Dumitru — 2 March, 2012 @ 8:01 pm
Thanks Dumitru,
So glad you liked my first book :-)
Take care
Comment by Bruce Percy — 3 March, 2012 @ 10:28 pm