Measuring Oneself

Autumn colors adorn the banks of the West Branch of the Ausable River

I'm a very good landscape photographer. There, I said it. Don't hate me. I don't believe I'm being conceited or arrogant, just giving myself an honest assessment. There are times when I think I may even be better than most. Other times not. But I know one thing for sure: I'm not the best. Now, I know you're probably thinking, "No Chris, you are the best!" Right? Right?! But I know that's not true. I'm not the best. I've always known this, and I'm sure it will always be the case. But knowing it and accepting it are two different things. I thought I had accepted this fact, but as it turns out not really.

Being secure in my talents as a photographer has been tough this year, more so than any year previous. The reasons are not entirely clear to me. Part of it may be due to the fact that at this level improvement comes in tiny increments. It's easy to see improvement early on, when there is nowhere to go but up. It's easy to improve on nothing. But now it's getting harder for me to see improvement in my art. I look at the images I made this year and think that I could have easily made them two years ago. Where's the growth? Couple this with the discovery of a few extremely talented photographers in my region and the voices of self doubt in my head begin to get louder. Yes, I am hard on myself. But better that than have delusions of grandeur. It's the only way to get better.

I was in the Adirondack Mountains a couple weeks ago, and my first evening there I was sharing the summit of a mountain with another photographer. The whole time he seemed to be shooting entirely different things than I was, and my first impulse was to think that he was seeing something that I wasn't, that I was missing something. That his photos from that same vantage point were no doubt going to be better than mine. I have always struggled with this insecurity when sharing a location with other photogs. And I wonder if it was just me or was he also pondering the same things, experiencing the same doubts. I'm inclined to think not, as I never caught him glancing my way. He was lost in his art, which is where I should have been. After a while we began chatting and as it turned out we knew who each other was through Flickr, which was pretty cool. I complimented him on his excellent photography; it was not returned. Damn him. We expressed interest in seeing each others photographs once we returned home. Honestly, I'm afraid to look at his photos from that afternoon, worried that my fears will be realized. Ridiculous perhaps, but understandable.

Where am I going with this blog post? I have no idea. I don't have the answers yet. I just thought it might be a help to those other photographers out there who suffer similar insecurities to know they are not alone. You are out there, right? Right?!