Why continue making photographs? Staring at the commonplace and the things encountered every day, why continue with it? Haven't we seen enough of it already? The "new ways of seeing" — aren't them well established by now? Why continue with all this?
The last thousands of rolls by Garry Winogrand, the compulsive, nearly blank stuff from his last years, shot in Los Angeles, ceaseless repetition of the familiar themes but weaker and weaker all the time, was he about to break through into something new? Come through the void? Or is the great work there, in that endless succession of frames? An enigma? I'm familiar with the work of Winogrand only from Figments from the Real World, Szarkowski's brilliant essay included in the book, and a 1981 interview posted on some website (I didn't read it completely, just half of it).
The answer is: I don't know.
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Thoughts about looking at and making of photographs. Being also an attempt at forming a definition for "True Photography".
Furl It
Simpy
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