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Tim Smalley on how to get past a creative rut
It’s inevitable that we all reach a point in our photographic journey when we begin to draw nothing but blanks. After downloading the contents of your memory card or getting your freshly processed images back from the lab, you realise that there isn’t even a single image amongst them of any worth. Weeks, or even months, without an image of note can begin to chip away at your creative confidence and can lead to you asking yourself questions about your value as a photographer. If you’ve ever felt this way, you’re certainly not alone – it happens in every creative medium and definitely isn’t just limited to photography. And, for some, it can happen with a degree of regularity.Late in February this year, I entered a dry spell that went on for almost two months – every image I made during this period meant little or nothing to me, or my fiancée (who’s incredibly brutal about some of my work). She keeps me sane and knocks me down to size when I’m kidding myself.The rut seemed to go on forever and I felt there was no end in sight. I’d just moved house too – from the
depths of rural Surrey onto the Middlesex/Hertfordshire border. This clearly hadn’t helped – many of the places that I visited previously were now almost two hours away, as opposed to just a few minutes, making repeated visits more difficult – but I knew it wasn’t the only reason.However, rather than get down about temporarily losing my photographic eye and blame it on moving away from some favoured locations, I saw it as an opportunity to move forwards creatively. It’s important in these circumstances not to try too hard, blame your equipment or admit defeat – the last point is particularly important to avoid, as there’s no point dwelling on or trying to justify why you’re going through a photographic rut. It just happens sometimes.I see it as an opportunity to reflect on what you’ve achieved and how you’ve changed as an artist and photographer. It’s a license to experiment, reconnect with the landscape and, above all, to enjoy just being out in the great outdoors – no matter how good or bad the weather is, and whether or not you come back having made a meaningful image.
I cast a cynical eye over my portfolio and realised I wasn’t where I wanted to be – I was throwing images out that I was previously very fond of because they just didn’t satisfy me anymore. It’s sometimes good to do this but, if you do, don’t be too critical of yourself and your work because it’s important to remember that our tastes change as time passes by. Rather than spend time dwelling on why I wasn’t where I wanted to be, I instead started to think how I could get there without setting my expectations too high – I knew that I wouldn’t get where I wanted to be overnight.I decided that it was as good a time as ever to start a couple of new projects with subjects that inspired me, but forced me to step outside of my comfort zone. Both projects would force me to experiment and were not particularly weather dependant so I couldn’t blame my situation on being unlucky with the light.
The first of these projects was based in a part of the Heartwood Forest that’s just north of St. Albans on the edge of a small village called Sandridge, which isn’t far from my new home. This meant it was easy to get to and also cost-effective to visit repeatedly, giving me no excuse to stay at home. It’s an ancient bluebell woodland with lots of character and, with spring just around the corner, I felt it’d be an ideal place to get some fresh inspiration.
The second project was also based in woodland, but instead focused on bracken. It was a much wider project that would enable me to visit familiar locations – both close to home and further afield – and hopefully see them through a different set of eyes. I also intended to seek out some new locations with potential that could be visited later in the project when I felt my rut was coming to an end.
Despite its potential vastness, it bore a close relation to the Heartwood Forest project because it was primarily based on form and composition, but could also be worked on in almost all weather conditions with the help of a big white umbrella.What’s more, because both projects relied on the arrival of the spring bloom, it meant I had to spend the first few weeks of both projects planning, pre-visualising and establishing an emotional connection with any potential new locations I came across (or re-establishing that connection with familiar locations).
It’s all too easy to arrive at a new location with your heart in your mouth and think that a
significant image is literally just around the corner. However, more often than not that image will allude you and, because of your current situation, you’ll go home casting even more doubt over your prowess when it’s down to the fact you don’t understand what makes the location tick and don’t have any emotional basis for inspiration.
My decision to start two projects that would require serious thought before any image making could commence as it forced me to meticulously plan and also connect with my subject. It was important that I didn’t try too hard to force an image – as is often the case when you lose your artistic mojo – because I’d more than likely see it as a failure; instead, I gave myself time to let the images come to me when I was ready.
At this point, all of my work on these projects had been done alone. I felt I needed time to reflect and reignite my creativity without any outside pressure tomove onto a new area or head home. I spent days exploring locations –
mainly with my Panasonic Lumix DMC-LX3 – and, as the bloom started appearing, I called up one of my shooting partners to see if they fancied visiting some of the locations I’d been exploring for so long.
I was keen to see how they saw the locations differently to me and to hopefully gain inspiration from the images they made. The spring flowers were still not at their peak on the first few trips, but I felt it was right to give my shooting partner some time to acclimatise himself with the locations I’d spent so long connecting with.
Reviewing the images that came from these pre-bloom sessions left me with hope, but the revelation came when I sat down with my shooting partner. The images he’d come back with were completely different to mine, but very revealing as we were quite often shooting just a few feet away from each other.
This enabled me to think beyond the images I made at the same time and see images that I would never have visualised before. I was now just a week or so away from some areas of the Sandridge woodland coming into bloom and I was starting to see more clearly again.
Five days later, I made one of the most significant images of the year to date and it was of an unexpected subject. The trees had just started blossoming and I noticed an area with some delicate, but very shapely branches that I would have normally walked right past on the way back to the car. However, this time, I was determined to stop and make it work – even though the light was fading. It wasn’t an image I had planned but the idea jumped out at me immediately. It required a lot of work to juxtapose the elements within the frame and also adjust the plane of focus to match my visualisation. At last, I felt like a massive weight had been taken off my shoulders and I was free to proceed in the direction my eyes took me.
Like most things, different people deal with situations differently so while I can’t offer a Delia Smith style recipe for getting out of a photographic rut, I do hope that my decision to focus on a longer-term goal inspires you to work your way out of a rut without feeling short-term pressure. Your mind is a complicated thing that’s unique to you, and it needs time to rest and recharge itself before the next challenge. Even if you only have limited time to dedicate to landscape photography, there’s little point being too hard on yourself and 
applying unneeded pressure to make meaningful images. Creativity isn’t available on tap so don’t force it – let that moment of inspiration come to you because, believe me, it will when the time is right.
You can see more of Tim Smalley’s photography at http://tsmalley.com/
and
http://www.flickr.com/photos/timsmalley/.
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Hi Tim
Great article, full of things to think about. Am going through a bit of a similar process at the moment so it’s well timed!
I’m relatively local to the locations you mention (Hertford), are you talking about Heartwood Forest, the Woodland Trust project when you mention Hertford Forest?
All the best
Mark
Hi Mark,
Thanks for your kind words – you’re welcome. Yes, that’s the name – it’s part of the Woodland Trust’s reforestation project in that area – apologies for the confusion there on my part. The images from that area are filed under ‘hertwood’, which is incorrect for starters, and then I’ve got it further mixed up! I’ve asked Tim to correct the mistake.
Kind regards,
Tim
Thanks for clearing that up Tim! Again, great article, more please…
Mark
well.. by the looks of your images, the creative rut came very good – would you have got these and increased the breadth of your comfort zone had you not been forced to question the images you were taking before this happened. I guess it’s not nice when you are in it, but perseverance seems to pay off and that’s a lesson I will carry with me!
Hi Nigel,
Thanks for your kind words. I had already started looking around woodland that I’d previously dismissed in some locations in the Peak District that hark back to my childhood, but not really as a project-driven body of work dedicated specifically to one area or subject.
The single most important thing was to persevere and take away anything that might give me an excuse *not* to get out – even if I don’t make any images. In effect, I was still training my eyes to see in a way that maybe wasn’t natural to me at first but eventually your eyes start to see the images that please you.
I’ve done quite a bit of project-based work before, but it was these two projects (which are still ongoing, as I’m continuing to photograph through the seasons) that really opened my eyes. They’ve taught me that it’s a better and more meaningful way to work because I actually become better connected with my subject – no matter how photogenic it may be. I’ve actually moved almost all of my work to a project-driven mantra now – I seem to get much more out of it creatively and I’m prepared to take more risks than I may have done in the past because, ultimately, it’s about the final set of images together rather than any single image.
If an image doesn’t work, it really doesn’t matter, as I can just choose not to include it in the final portfolio for that project. What I try to do with an image that doesn’t work, though, is understand why it doesn’t and try to find what it was within the frame that attracted me to making the picture in the first place. Maybe there’s actually a picture within the picture I made that I just didn’t quite see in my mind’s eye and ended up over-complicating the image – I have a folder full of such images that I plan to re-shoot when the conditions are right. Some, of course, may take many years or may never be realised, but that’s part of the challenge and even if I can’t make a specific image, I hope that I at least learned from my mistakes (if I can call it that?) and use what I learned in future images.
All the best,
Tim
Hi Tim,
Just proves that all photographers go through a time of creative difficulty. I have found that visiting new places often keeps the creative juices flowing. Then coming back to old grounds with fresh eyes. However, I do sympathise a little as I to live in Hertfordshire, Broxbourne in fact. So we are not far apart. Ive found Herts very difficult to shoot, as I grew up on the Kent coast. However, this area has taught me new things in seeing an image, especially as most of Herts is woodland, or open areas that often lack that ‘something’. But as Ive found in photography over the past 10 years, that ‘something’ quite often changes with our mood and outlook. Sometimes we get in a rut not because of the landscape but because we are not being open to the opportunities the landscape presents itself. Now thankfully, this photographic typecasting Ive shaken, and my photography has improved a great deal. I also recommend the Ashdown Forest as well as Epping Forest. Both have its merrits, and taking photographs at various times of the year, and not just for the bluebells in Spring, the colours of Autumn, or the snow (if it comes) in Winter, can be rewarding.
Hi Chris,
Hertfordshire (and Surrey, for that matter), isn’t what I’d call a natural environment for me – I grew up on the edge of the White Peak and spent most of my childhood roaming around the Peak District (particularly Dovedale, Tissington, the Manifold Valley, Matlock Bath, Lathkill Dale, the Roaches and up towards Longnor/Buxton). It’s quite a different landscape to my current backyard, but I love going back because I’ve got years of inspiration to build on.
I tend to find it very hard to work in new locations, unless I spend a decent amount of time there, because I don’t feel like I have connected with them. I tend to forget about my camera for a while when I first get to a new location – I like to sit and take in the air, touch the landscape (rocks, trees, grasses, you name it) and establish some kind of relationship with it before I even think about making images.
I’ve also quickly grown to appreciate the area around me now and, yes, while it’s not as photogenic or dramatic as some parts of the UK, you can still make meaningful images – they just don’t jump out quite as easily. I also really enjoy the exploratory aspects of working in new locations because, like you say, there aren’t any creative shackles or expectations for what I’m going to come back with.
I started visiting Epping Forest at the end of May and it took me four day-long visits before I felt like I made an image that had expression. On the first two days, I roamed with the LX3 and started scrap-booking, leaving my big camera in the car. On the third visit in the space of a week, I took my backpack with me and attempted a few images, but none of them spoke to me – I wasn’t quite ready creatively. Towards the end of the fourth trip, I started to see in a way that was pleasing to me and I went home with one satisfying image.
I’m already filling a notebook full of places in Epping Forest that I want to revisit and photograph again in more photogenic conditions – autumn and winter, in particular. I’m doing the same with Ashridge, while trying to avoid the popular Dockey Wood as there is so much more to the location and I’ve barely explored a tenth of the area!
I’ve visited Ashdown Forest a few times, stopping short of a planned trip down to the South Downs. Unfortunately, I locked myself down creatively for some reason and didn’t come away with anything of note – I should maybe head back with fresh eyes and spend more time exploring the location without the burden of a heavy backpack.
Best regards,
Tim
Great article, Tim. Most inspiring, in that it’s good to know that perseverance is the way to go when things aren’t coming together as they ought to!
Your images are really building up a good sense of the character of the Heartwood Forest. I used to live around there (St.Albans, then Harpenden, then Woburn), and I’m pretty sure I’ve been there. Nice to see it again, photographed very well!
Mike
Mike
No problem Mike, thanks for the kind words – I hope it proves useful someday!
Tim
Tim, this is really very stimulating – and I appreciate that you’re not trying to offer a ‘one-size-fits-all’ solution to the issue. Thanks, Michael
Thanks Michael!