Issue no. 4

It's funny. Whenever I am feeling creatively stuck you would think that I'd crack open a photography book, but that's just not the case. The first place I look for inspiration is almost never to the work of other photographers. I always return to my first love - food writers, particularly the writing of two late, great,  well-fed, and well-read literary giants Jonathan Gold and Anthony Bourdain. Why? What do two bookish food nerds have to do with making a pretty picture? Simply put: because I am drawn to the thesis of their work - to encourage people to have an appetite and develop a curiosity not just for food, but for life and the world around them. Food was just the conduit through which they managed to make more Americans less afraid of going to neighborhoods or parts of the world that felt strange and unfamiliar to them in pursuit of something good. And they managed to do this all without snobbery, pretense, or sanctimony. That meant a lot to me as a kid growing up in suburban Ohio with very little outlet to the world beyond my caul-de-sac. My apertures to experience the world were extremely limited so what I watched and what I read mattered. They were how I came to know the world was bigger than my block and made the pursuit of seeing it irresistible. The medium may not be the same, but theirs is the message I'd like to perpetuate through my own work. When I dig through the archives of their work, searching for their voices I cant help but hear an echo. When I read J Gold's personal essay on the LA Riots  or listen to the audiobook of Anthony Bourdain's Medium Raw  it is impossible to not also absorb the voices of Norman Mailer, Iggy Pop and The Stooges, DJ Quick, Hunter S. Thompson, Emile Zola, Snoop Dogg, Thomas Keller, Yo Yo Ma, and countless other artists that artists, chefs, writers, musicians, and other creatives who's influence they've rubbed up against. 

You did not grow without roots - you are made up of every song you've ever listened to, every painting, every book, every piece of writing and photograph and movie that's ever moved you. You are the unique amalgamation of everything that has ever happened to you - every conversation you've had, your strengths, scars, quirks, vulnerabilities, fears, and triumphs - even quick conversations and fleeting moments contribute to the fingerprint of your existence. What you contribute to the world as your truest self - not the self you created to be palatable for consumption - is irreplaceable. That's why when someone sees you - really sees you, sees who you are when you think no one is looking or takes special interest in that niche thing you like and usually keep to yourself - it touches you so profoundly and makes you wish that person could stay forever. That's why artists who understand this and are brave enough to show the world these deeply intimate (and for most people, private) parts of themselves, and smart enough to know that the most impactful art is personal and specific have names that you remember. 

I first came across the idea of a Family Tree of Influences in the book Steal Like An Artist, a book who's mission is to prove that creativity is not magic, or an exclusive talent gifted to a few- it's something that can be cultivated through practice, study, and surrounding yourself with influences that create an environment conducive to invite it into our lives. Our creative DNA is comprised not only of those who influence us, but the people who influenced them, and the people who influenced those people all the way back to the first rhythms, first paintings, first words - to the moment humanity went from merely surviving to living and creating for the sake of living and creating. If you want to be good you study one person who inspires you. If you want to be unforgettable you study who influenced them and their masters. Surround yourself with their work, immerse yourself in their thought process. Let them get under your skin.

 I already know what you're thinking - how will I ever create something original if I'm so busy surrounding myself with someone else? Well, that's the beauty of it. We may be similar to, but completely unique from our parents and grandparents etc. We might have our father’s eyes and our mother’s smile, but together on your face, they are a whole new experience with just a hint of warm familiarity to those who know your origins. Same with your art - you don't have to worry about becoming your influences because all of your other experiences will help to color your work with a personal touch. Of course, in the beginning, things may look a little derivative. This does not mean that you stop. Stopping here, especially if you are receiving praise for what you know well to be a lesser copy of someone else's work, is a faithless, act of extreme cowardice that will undoubtedly haunt you for the rest of your creative life.

 Coming full circle back to our food friends, I will close out with an analogy: when you make a dish like boeuf bourguignon you start with some beef, some wine, some vegetables and some stock. If you cooked it for an hour and tried it I'm sure the flavor would be fine - but it would lack the depth and richness that defines it as the dish we know it as. We know that it is best when you let it cook for 4-6 hours, giving all the flavors a chance to meld and intensify together into its signature final form. It's the same with your art - It is your job to keep steadily creating and letting your influences simmer and meld together until they form something entirely new that can be traced back to you. 

P.S. Speaking of creative DNA I had the chance to speak with Andre D. Wagner a photographer I admire very much arguably the of the most important photographers of our time thanks once again to Peter Turnley who graciously allowed me to sit in on his lecture during this summer's second New York Workshop. Andre's work is important to me, not only because he finds the impact of everyday, overlooked moments that inform us on where we are at this place in time, but because of our similar backgrounds as young, black, midwestern people who moved to New York and taught ourselves photography. 

With cautious optimism: I think feel my creative family tree taking root 🌱