The truth always comes out, eventually.
There are certain techniques – a dozen or so – I check out when I begin working with a new capture, even if I think I know the direction I’m going to take, and even if that direction does not include any of these techniques, I’m going to check them out anyway. These techniques run the table from subtle to hugely radical, including stuff I almost never use, stuff that examines edging, lighting and texture. I do that before I begin following any notions I might have about the work I want to create.
I do this even for techniques I don’t want to use; possibly even hate using. Because here’s the thing: I may think I see the truth in a given work, only to discover something very different. Every photograph hides its own story deep within its pixels. It’s like doling out subpoenas from which emerge some bombshell I hadn’t expected. Or wanted. Sometimes there’s a bombshell I sort of suspected was there, but didn’t want to believe. It’s part of human frailty; wanting to believe something we’ve been led to believe, an empty and opaque husk that seems solid.
All my life I have had to learn to do things differently. To see the world differently.