A couple of months ago I was in Rust Belt Books looking for something to read during dinner. I’d recently gotten a new camera, so I decided to check out the photography section in the hope of finding a book on digital photography. Alas, there were none, but I did find a book that caught my eye and so I decided to give it a try.
The book is called “No More Secondhand Art.” The title is a play on the phrase “secondhand religion,” which refers to a blind, uncurious acceptance of somebody else’s description of God. The idea is that God speaks to all of us, directly, and so if any of us wants to find God we can find Him for ourselves instead of settling for a secondhand religion. This process of discovery can mean prayer or good works or meditation or walking through the woods or attending church services; each of us must discover our own way for ourselves. Now, I’m not sure I agree 100% with this concept but it makes a degree of sense.
The author proposes that it’s the same with art; that in order to create art that has depth and meaning and truth, an artist must not settle for the superficial beauty that comes from mimicing other people’s ideas of art. If we set out to create beauty, we will create something false and empty, even if it’s aesthetically pleasant. If, however, we set out to create an expression of something we think or feel, we’ll create art - true art - that resonates with people on deeper levels. And, best of all, the care we give to something so meaningful to us means it will probably end up being beautiful anyway. Bonus! I’m paraphrasing pretty badly, but hopefully you get the general idea.
The book’s second chapter has an interesting concept that I’m trying very hard to apply to my photography (so far without much success). The premise is that much of our self-perception is tied up with a never-ending process of “getting our bearings” both in a literal and figurative sense. We construct our concept of self from millions of pieces of information which serve almost as landmarks on a roadmap. I know I’m sitting in my kitchen because I can see my stove and cupboards and dollar-store magnets on my refrigerator. I know I’m under a lot of stress because I’m irritable and my head hurts. We cling to these countless pieces of information to anchor ourselves in the familiar and comfortable.
But the familiar, comfortable places in our lives aren’t always where we need to be, and so sometimes we have to force ourselves to just… get lost. The problem is, this goes against our instinct and training. We’re conditioned to always be aware of our surroundings, our bearings, the landmarks that point the way home. We’re conditioned to stay anchored. Did you ever get in your car, start driving, and let yourself get totally and utterly lost? Ok, but I mean on purpose? I tried it the day after I read that second chapter, and I just couldn’t make myself let go and get lost. I was too afraid.
Still, as the old saw goes, knowing is half the battle won. Maybe I’ll be able to catch myself falling back into those same old patterns of thinking and stop myself before I go too far. Maybe I’ll be able to let go of those landmarks that anchor me in my comfortable, familiar place so that I can move forward and explore and discover more of life. Maybe I’ll be able to hop in my car and just drive, with no thought to where I am or how I’ll get back or if I have enough gas in the tank. Maybe. I’d better make sure my cell phone is charged… I mean, no sense being an idiot about it.
