© Thomas Hoepker
Photographs That Don’t Matter
Not every photograph is meant to last.
And not all those that do last remain because they succeeded.
A large part of photographic work is made of images that don’t matter. Not because they are technically wrong, but because they don’t withstand time. They work at the moment they are taken, sometimes even at the moment they are shared, but then they empty out. They don’t ask to be revisited, they don’t raise questions, they don’t resist.
As an editor, this is where I truly recognize a photographer. Not in what they show, but in what they are willing to let go. In the images they don’t defend, and in those they accept not to publish, even when they “work”. Because an unnecessary photograph is not one that fails, but one that occupies space without adding meaning.
Failure, in street and documentary photography, is not an accident. It is part of the process. It is what forces you to verify whether a photograph comes from a clear position or from habit. Every image that doesn’t hold compels you to ask not what went wrong technically, but why you pressed the shutter right there, at that exact moment.
Today, editing is often discussed as the selection of the best images. In reality, editing is mostly the elimination of the superfluous. It is understanding which images no longer serve your gaze, even if they say something about you. Even if they have a story. Even if they have received attention.
A mature photograph does not come from accumulation, but from subtraction. From the ability to recognize that not everything we see deserves to be photographed, and not everything we photograph deserves to remain.
Perhaps growing as photographers does not mean producing better and better images.
It means producing fewer necessary ones.
And accepting that the real work begins precisely with the images we decide not to show.
Marco Savarese
Editor-in-Chief
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Marco Savarese
Marco Savarese is Editor-in-Chief at Eyeshot, the independent publisher he founded in Italy in 2018. He spends most of his year reading portfolios, judging the Open Call, and editing the magazine catalogue. The reading desk is open, and he takes one-to-one Professional Reviews from photographers working seriously on long-term projects.
Who Finishes Your Photograph
NOTE #210. A photo isn’t finished until it survives to where people see it. Paul Strand chose hand photogravure for Photographs of Mexico so the printed copy kept the tonal weight of his prints. Protect the tone to the end, or the worst medium decides for you.
What the Dark Does
NOTE #209. A face lost in shadow reads as underexposed, a defect to fix. Gordon Willis kept Brando’s eyes in the dark in The Godfather and held it against the studio. Before you rescue a shadow, ask what it does; if you can say it, you decided it.
The Place After
NOTE #208. Of a huge event, often only an ordinary place is left. In On This Site (1996) Joel Sternfeld photographed fifty banal American places where violence happened, each with a line of text. Photograph the aftermath, and let the line do the work.
The Photo Made Together
NOTE #206. Street photography teaches you to steal people; there’s another way. In Malick Sidibé’s Bamako studio the youth chose how to be seen. Before you take someone, ask how they’d want to look, and make the photo together.
Write Your Own Rules
NOTE #205. The thing that improves you most isn’t a new camera, it’s a short list of your own faults. Tony Ray-Jones kept a notebook of orders to himself and it shaped Martin Parr. Write your three rules and keep them in your pocket.
Watch the Master Work
NOTE #204. You don’t learn from a master’s finished prints, you learn from watching them work. In 1962 Joel Meyerowitz watched Robert Frank shoot, quit his job that day, and picked up a camera. Watch the body, not the result.
The Work Before the Name
NOTE #203. The worth of a photo and the worth of the byline are two different things. Koudelka shot the 1968 Prague invasion anonymously as ‘P.P.’ and revealed it sixteen years later. Photograph what must be photographed even when no one will know it was you.
The Subject You Run From
NOTE #202. The strongest subject you have is the one you’d rather not photograph. Ishiuchi Miyako went back to Yokosuka, the occupied base town she was taught to fear, and made it her life’s work. Point the camera where it’s uncomfortable.