On Camera Club Competitions

 

Dear Bubbles:
Many photography experts say to be a good photographer one must understand but “break the rules.”  Our camera club evaluates, and critiques, photos based on the “rules.” Sometimes, I find this to inhibit my creativity.  How does one marry “breaking the rules” and meeting the camera club rules dictate? Thanks,
Kathryn

Can a photo that is less-than-perfect be a contender in a photo competition? Can a photo that is more “art and soul” than “perfect technique” do the same? Thank you so much for your time.
Steven

Most of our competition judging seems to lean toward making “good photos.” How do we incorporate this more creative element into our judging?
Dennis

 

Dear Kathryn, Steven, and Dennis:
Thank you for bringing these questions up. Although I have never done this before, I am featuring not one, not two, but three questions for this month’s Dear Bubbles column. A three-for-one! I’m doing so for two reasons: one, their similarities in nature, and two, these well-put questions represent a much larger quantity of questions Bubbles has received from many camera club members.

Although I am an outsider looking in, I am very aware of the great deal of influence camera clubs have with those who practice photography and thus hold a great deal of power over the direction of the photo community. My hope in addressing this in my Dear Bubbles column is that we can see a movement within the photography community away from competition with unhelpful numerical ratings and pitting incomparable self-expressions against each other in the pursuit of a ribbon, trophy, or certificate (which will likely do little more than collect dust on a refrigerator or in a box in a garage). I hope it moves the photo community into a stronger learning-based environment with a broad definition of creative photography, a celebration of originality, and an increased promotion of individualized visual expression. Based on the number of times I hear questions and concerns about camera club competitions, I sense the community is ripe for change in this space…

When the first camera clubs came onto the scene in the late 1800s, clubs like the Boston Camera Club (at which I’ve both spoken and judged!) and the Society of Amateur Photographers attracted amateur and professional photographers who were interested in sharing tips, tricks, and fellowship. Alfred Stieglitz, a professional photographer and member of the Society of Amateur Photographers, thought the “…most important function of the camera club was to sponsor exhibitions to promote photographs of artistic value.” (Source: https://okeeffemuseum.libguides.com/guides/stieglitz/clubs) These exhibitions helped raise awareness for photography and photographers at a time when photography was not widely regarded as an art form by the art community. He did so primarily through his gallery called the Little Galleries of the Photo-Secession, also known more simply as “291.”

While these exhibitions, no doubt, involved some form of curation to ensure a cohesive display among its diverse membership, it’s hard to say when camera clubs turned their focus away from external exhibitions and into internal competitions. To be sure, some clubs have not. Some do neither. And some do everything in between. The common thread I’ve observed with the numerous clubs in which I have interacted is that all—yes, all—clubs remain committed to members’ learning through outings, photo sharing, study groups, and guest talks. In some clubs, though, competitions are a core component of their functioning still today. It’s billed as a learning experience, but I’m not so sure it’s accomplishing what we think it’s accomplishing.

The idea of competition is not new to humans. Competition, in evolutionary terms, provides a means to survival and reproduction in harsh environments where resources (like food, shelter, mates, property, etc. ) are limited. As resources became more abundant, humans took the idea of competition to the next level. We now compete not just for survival and reproduction’s sake, but also for power, social status, entertainment, and achievement purposes. The Ancient Greeks brought the “competitive spirit” alive in sport with the start of what we now know as the Olympic Games. Since then, our species has excelled at giving out trophies, ribbons, certificates, prizes, and other awards for being better than others.

Since I was three years old, I’ve been judged and on the receiving end of these external rewards through dance, gymnastics, band, cheerleading, volleyball, heck, even academics with grades and class ranking among my peers. I have occasionally submitted my photography and books to contests for funsies. Having never joined a camera club, my work has never been assigned a camera club competition score.

I have, however, played a role in judging numerous camera club competitions. In most, not all, cases, I’ve been asked to assign numerical ratings to photographs. Sometimes with commentary. Sometimes without. No matter, it breaks my heart for everyone involved, all of whom were brave enough to offer their artistic expression to be evaluated by their peers only to be disappointed and discouraged by the outcome (i.e., their scores and comparative performance with others).

As psychologist Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi put it, “Competition is enjoyable only when it is a means to perfect one’s skills; when it becomes an end in itself, it ceases to be fun.”

But, you know, humans gotta human. Comparing ourselves to others is prevalent in our society and engrained in our psyche—and it crushes our soul, encourages conformity, discourages risk taking, and impedes our sense of community. Having been an overachieving people-pleasing perfectionist for most of my life, I can say from experience that perpetuating rivalry between winners and losers, the haves and haves not, keeps our society divided and deeply entrenched in a scarcity mindset (mainly for other people’s profit, power, and ego fulfillment). Arbitrarily limiting attention and achievement, when both are truly boundless, perpetuates even more competition among us. Humans love praise. We do not like rejection. And we often change our thoughts and behaviors to get external praise and avoid rejection. This is not a healthy place for anyone, especially for those who wish to appreciate, celebrate, and express the special moments of their own lives through photography or other art forms.

Art is fundamentally subjective. For starters, no one can seem to agree on what art is. For example, would you call two blank, unpainted canvases art? One artist submitted exactly that to a museum. The two pieces were titled “Taking the Money and Run.” The gig earned the artist $84,000 with much controversy—which I’d argue was exactly the point of this artist’s statement. (Source: https://www.npr.org/2021/09/29/1041492941/jens-haaning-kunsten-take-the-money-and-run-art-denmark-blank)

Wikipedia describes art as “…a diverse range of cultural activity centered around works utilizing creative or imaginative talents, which are expected to evoke a worthwhile experience, generally through an expression of emotional power, conceptual ideas, technical proficiency, and/or beauty.” Merriam-Webster suggests within its many entries for “art” that it is “the conscious use of skill and creative imagination especially in the production of aesthetic objects.”

Individual expression in art is not based on survival or reproduction where resources are limited. Creative and imaginative talents, as well as technical proficiency, are exclusive to each individual and their own perceptions and connections with the world. Experiences are deemed “worthwhile” by individual standards. “Worthwhile” is undefinable in a shared, universal sense. Expressions of emotional power, conceptual ideas, and beauty are limitless.

In addition, the only person we compete with in art is ourselves. Are we improving our capabilities to express meaningful experiences in our lives to the satisfaction of ourselves? Are we developing new perspectives about the world around us? The only judge who can somewhat accurately assess our art is ourselves. (I say “somewhat” because, while we best know our preferences and intentions, we also hold onto biases which sometimes prevent us from seeing a fuller picture about our work, pun intended.)

Given this, by nature, art is not a competition.

Trying to compare one person’s photograph with another isn’t an attempt to compare apples to apples or even apples to oranges. It’s trying to compare apples to unicorns. Competition encourages conformity to socially prescribed standards and discourages the pursuit of discovery and risk-taking in one’s work simply because it is not valued by the community. Conformity to norms is the opposite of what art and creative expression entails. Thus, the goals between competition and art are divergent and incompatible. You cannot marry the two.

Yet, that’s what camera club competitions try to do. The camera club contests endeavor to distinguish merit among incomparable things by using a set of rules which appear to be objective on the surface but are nothing short of a collective agreement about a handful of subjective criteria that have—quite unfortunately—been rewarded repeatedly over time like: How well did you adhere to the Rule of Thirds? Is everything in the frame sharp and in focus? Is everything properly exposed?

In addition, competition judging criteria tends to favor not only technical execution, but also aesthetic appeal. Sexy extraordinary external occurrences like colorful clouds, rainbows, the Milky Way, etc.—situations over which the artist had no control in manifesting whatsoever—are valued over things artists can control like emotional impact, storytelling, and imagination that require a greater investment of time, skill, and ingenuity to deliver.

Where did these criteria come from? Who deemed the Rule of Thirds as the gold standard in which we should all obey? Who said everything had to be in focus and properly exposed? When we figure out who these people are, what qualifies them to have any say over our own preferences, intellect, and intuitions for our own photography? What is the definition of “proper” anyhow? Why is a Milky Way more apt to be rewarded than the creative incorporation of a clear blue sky?

Let’s say you check all these boxes. What happens then? You can only put a stick perfectly in the corner of the intersection of the Rule of Thirds grid so well. (And some don’t know why we’re doing that in the first place…)

More importantly, what happens if you intend to put something in the center of the frame so that your viewers feel a sense of peacefulness and stability the way you did when you made the image? What if you deliberately used a balance of out-of-focus and in-focus layers to create the illusion of dimension and separation between them? What if you blurred your subject on purpose to convey motion? What if you overexposed your frame on purpose to render a high-key vibe? What if you used a bright tone on the corner to direct viewers there on purpose? Despite what the internet and some judges will tell you, you will not spontaneously combust if you do these things. (At least I haven’t yet…).

If self-expression is what we’re aiming for in our work, we can (and should) be deliberate with our artist choices in designing our photographs. With any two-dimensional media, artists have a language to learn and apply in the same way we learn the alphabet, words constructed from letters, and sentences constructed with words in verbal language. Photographers do need to understand how things like lines, shapes, layers, light, color, tones, visual weight, proximity, placement within the frame, and the like affect our visual design and our ability to communicate emotions, mood, meaning, stories, connections and ideas through our compositions. Adjusting our techniques and approaches in visual language is how we inject the “(he)art and soul” we feel into our work.

Given the number of variables involved, though, it’s impossible to define a specific formula or a prescribed approach to garner success in our image making. There are certainly more effective ways to achieve things like grabbing a viewer’s attention, creating the illusion of depth, conveying a sense of drama, and balancing relationships among visual elements within the boundaries of the frame. Personally expressive work is based on individual choices about what we want to say visually—and how—to the best of our abilities through our photography. To each their own when it comes to art.

But if we can’t even agree on what art is, then it’s impossible to define a set of objective rules with which to measure or judge these individual decisions across a universal playing field. There are rules in competition. There are no rules in art. And if there are no rules, then we cannot break what does not exist.

(For a refresh on my perspective on “breaking the rules,” which I view as misguided advice, please revisit my earlier column called “Breaking the Rules”: https://dearbubbles.com/2021/06/on-breaking-the-rules/ .)

Similarly, if art has no rules, no standards, and aims to free one of conformity through the channeling self-expression, imagination, and creativity, the notions of good, bad, and perfection also cannot exist in art. If we have no perfection in art, then we cannot have “less than perfect” in art. We might have aesthetic preferences and opinions, but there is no universal definition of a “good” or “bad” or “perfect” color or length of line or type of shape or even visual messaging. If an artist wishes to express “the sky is blue,” only the artist can determine whether they did so well, poorly, or perfectly.

Nonetheless, discernment of good, bad, and perfection exist in competition in the form of how well an image conformed to strict standards. Some, not all, camera clubs have adopted a numerical rating system, usually on scales of 1-5 or 1-10, to score how well a particular photograph followed “the rules.” Whether your image is issued a 10 or a 2, a number on its own doesn’t tell much of anything about what a photographer did well or what they could improve upon to become better photographers (nor does it tell much about the qualification of any judge to decide such scores).

(Although I have no data to back me up, I’d guess the scoring system was implemented out of necessity to make quick assessments for a large quantity of photographs in a short or limited amount of time…and not necessarily adopted as an optimal way to evaluate images.)

Even so, this score and what’s labeled good, bad, or perfect derives from a person’s opinion and their background, perceptions, skills, approach, style, sensibilities, preferences, and interpretations, not objective fact. Even with seemingly objective criteria, feedback will not, and will never be, consistent from person to person or judge to judge. We all see through different lenses. (And that’s a great thing for art and photography!)

One judge may like your photograph. The next one may not. Who’s correct? Who do you believe? (YOURSELF!!) What does it all mean?!?!

Look, if everyone puts their stick in the same Rule of Thirds corner, keeps their image sharp, and exposes “properly,” then all our photographs are going to look structurally the same. The strict demands to conform to norms encourage repetitiveness and deter photographers from experimenting within their own personal preferences and capabilities. We are independent artists with hearts and souls, not clones or robots.

If conformism is what we reward (and we do), then it’s what we’ll get more of (and we do…). Conversely, if individual expression is what we reward, then it’s what we’ll get more of.  What direction do we wish to steer photography for ourselves and for the next generations of photographers?

Consider the thoughts of philosopher Bertrand Russell:

It is impossible for art, or any of the higher creative activities, to flourish under any system which requires that the artist shall prove his competence to some body of authorities before he is allowed to follow his impulse. Any really great artist is almost sure to be though incompetent by those among his seniors who would be generally regarded as best qualified to form an opinion. And the mere fact of having to produce work which will please older men is hostile to a free spirit and to bold innovation. Apart from this difficultly, selection by older men would lead to jealously and intrigue and back-biting, producing a poisonous competition. The only effect of such a plan would be eliminate the few who now slip through owing to some fortunate accident. It is not by any system, but by freedom alone, that art can flourish.

Also, as painter and educator Robert Henri said, “To award prizes is to attempt to control the course of another man’s work. It is a bid to have him do what you will approve. It affects not only the one who wins the award, but all those who in any measure strive for it.”

And finally, more wise words from author Alfie Kohn: “We sometimes assume that working toward a goal and setting standards for oneself can take place only if we compete against others. This is simply false. One can both accomplish a task and measure one’s progress in the absence of competition.”

With these sentiments in mind, and with all due respect for Mr. Stieglitz, I believe the most important function for camera clubs today is to support the growth of their members on their individual photographic journeys and to expand the pool of creative possibilities. Let’s not stifle creativity and individual expression through competition. Let’s expand it.

Continue to encourage photographers to polish, prepare, and share their work which pushes photographers through the entire creative process from Preparation to Verification, from idea to print. Continue sharing photography among a group of supportive individuals. Continue to constructively critique photographs (in addition to, or instead of, assigning scores), offer feedback from diverse voices representing a diversity of tastes and knowledge, develop new ideas, and refine individual skills.

But let’s stop judgment and comparison to others. Let’s shift the focus of competitions away from checking the boxes of “perfect technique,” or “this one is prettier than that one,” and into a learning-based conversation between creators and viewers where creative expression is prized over conformity.

Here’s a proposed approach for how to do that:

1. Let’s all (camera club members or not) collectively throw out these things called “rules” and stop encouraging photographers to “break the rules” that don’t exist. Instead, learn more about how Gestalt psychology and human perceptions factor into visual design. Understand the components of visual language and how they work to convey diverse and complex ideas. Two great places to start are Rudolf Arnheim’s book Art and Visual Perception: The Psychology of the Creative Eye and Richard Zakia’s take titled Perception and Imaging: Photography—A Way of Seeing. These two books should be required reading for every photographer who wishes to use photography as a means of artistic self-expression, whether involved in a camera club or not.
2. Encourage each photographer to develop their own definition of what a “good” photograph is for their own work. To spark conversation, here’s the definition I’ve adopted for my own work: “A good photograph shares an outward expression that matches what the photographer deemed meaningful. It’s something I LOVED, not just liked, and is based on personal connection and emotions. The photograph shows a fresh and unique perspective. It shows the extraordinary in the ordinary or the extra in the extraordinary. The photograph incorporates deliberate technical execution to match this intended meaning.” What do you agree with? What don’t you agree with? Adjust to your taste. In promoting creative expression, what measures individuals use to create their own work is far more important than defining a collective agreement among many. Even as a community made up of many different—and perhaps divergent—perspectives, camera clubs can offer this space and freedom to their members. Wouldn’t it be exciting to embrace multiple definitions all at the same time?!
3. Ask the photographer’s intent before offering your perspective on their photograph. A short description about what the photographer meant to convey allows you to establish a better foundation from which to conduct an evaluation than arbitrary rules. Their intent enables you to understand the parameters the photographer used to create and deliver their work. It helps you understand their starting place for their goals, styles, and preferences. Take a few minutes, before offering your critique, to understand why the photographer did what they did given the variables in which they were working. Ask each photographer to explain why they feel their photograph is successful (i.e., what it means to them, what they like about it). And if the photographer doesn’t know what their intent or goal was, it’s the perfect coaching opportunity to discuss how to develop those skills.
4. Offer input based on how well the photographer accomplished that intent. Do not directly judge their intent. It’s not your business to determine whether their intent is good or bad. Instead, assess whether they achieved their desired intent from your perspective. What did they do well in delivering their intended message? What could they have done better to express that message? How could they more effectively and efficiently achieve their vision and communicate it with others? Multiple people sharing differing (if not opposing) opinions should be seen as a valuable insight to expand ideas, not as conflicting directions.
5. Value originality and creative risk-taking, not compliance. Originality is defined as “the quality of being novel or unusual.” Creativity is defined as “the use of the imagination or original ideas, especially in the production of an artistic work.” Encourage photographers to stretch their imagination and interpret the world in new, unusual ways. Value the “(he)art and soul,” the eccentric, the unconventional over proven techniques and traditions. Reward creative risks with encouragement, not a score of failure.
6. Release the shackles of time constraints. I get it. We’re all trying to find more hours in a day and trying to shove more into the hours we have. But if getting feedback on your photographs is important to you (as a club and club member), please don’t try to review 300 images into a one-hour time block. Dedicate more time to this effort. Value quality over quantity, growth over speed.

Now, as a club member, be careful what you ask for. Should any or all this approach be implemented by your club, and you choose to participate in this activity, understand that this will open you to more direct feedback about your work. Seeking specific criticism requires even more courage and more openness than getting a number assigned to your image. Assuming a safe and supportive environment in which egos are checked at the door, embracing a growth mindset over chasing achievement will lead to faster improvements in not just one person’s work, but in everyone’s involved.

If you are a photographer looking to join a camera club, I’d encourage you to ask leadership and members about their approach to their competitions and see if their answers align with your goals for your photography.  For ones who are already members of a club, but are potentially dissatisfied with your club’s competition approach, perhaps you can serve as an instigator for change by inviting discussion about competitions among your club members and leadership.

If a camera club retains its strict definition and emphasis on adherence to the “rules”, numbering system, etc.—which is their prerogative—decide for yourself whether playing by their rules will enable you get new ideas for your work and grow as an artist. If you like competing, awesome! Enter the competitions. But do so without relying upon it for your individual growth. If you don’t like competing, you can opt out and not participate in that portion of club activities. Or you could release expectations and enter your images knowing the game you play. Ultimately, competition scores and commentary are just input, not a life sentence. You get decide how you wish to respond to such ideas. Take it or leave it.

No matter what you decide, never stop learning. Find environments and communities who support each other in growth. Find a mentor. Read books. Gather new ideas for your work from everywhere and anywhere. Go forth and create the images you like while remembering the Eleanor Roosevelt quote I like to paraphrase: “What other people think of your photography is none of your business.”

Be well, be brave, be wild, be free and flourish,

~Bubbles

 

COMING SOON! The new “Making the Photo” video series is coming to Dear Bubbles on FEBRUARY 19! Learn more at https://dearbubbles.com/making-the-photo-introduction/

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Have a question about photography and/or the creative life? Need some advice? Looking for inspiration? Send your question to Dear Bubbles at [email protected] to be possibly featured in a future column post. (If you’d prefer a different display name than your real first name, please include your preferred nickname in your note.)