Finding myself through Photography
and some loose thoughts on it
A few weeks ago, I read an interview1 with German artist Claus Bury, in which he shared his thoughts on art and what it means for him to be an artist. He shared memories of his childhood, the time his love for creativity first began. Bury talked about his artistic career path, starting as a jewelry maker before transitioning to sculpture. Throughout the interview, Bury kept emphasizing how important the creative act is to him.
While the interview was interesting and informative overall, one sentence has stayed with me ever since. Near the end, Bury mentioned his journaling practice, which he began twenty years ago after his wife left him. He said he started writing daily to process his emotions and avoid letting the pain of the breakup influence his art practice. Unfortunately, the interviewer didn’t delve further into this intriguing statement and instead brought the conversation to a close.
I am always what forces drive an artist to create and I would have loved to learn more about Bury’s reasons for keeping his emotions out of his creative process and to gain a deeper understanding of what he truly meant by that.
My initial reaction - while I was still reading the article -, was a mix of confusion and disbelief. How could an artist's emotions not influence and inspire their artistic practice? Why would an artist intentionally choose to keep their feelings at the doorstep of the studio? In hindsight, I realize this was a somewhat naive and unreflected response.
In the following weeks, I kept coming back to Bury’s words, which made me look back on my own creative practice. I remembered the days when I started photographing - I had been a social worker in the psychiatric field. At the time, photography became my escape, a way to disconnect from everything - at least for a while. I would go on long walks in nature, seeking peace and solitude, concentrating on photographing the world around me rather than thinking about my clients, my own emotions, or really anything at all. In some way, I tried exactly what Bury did: trying not to let my emotional struggles influence my creative practice.
It was only later that, instead of using my camera to escape my feelings, I began using photography to explore, express, and try to make sense of them.
At least, that is how I thought about it, until I read Matt Haig’s book “Reasons to Stay Alive”. In this book, Haig writes about his struggles with mental illness. In one of the chapters, he describes how he at some point became addicted to books and how reading helped him in his darkest moments.
“There is this idea that you either read to escape or you read to find yourself. I don’t really see the difference. We find ourselves through the process of escaping.”2
It was when I read these words that something clicked, and I realized that this is so true for my photography. There is no one way or the other - whether I try to escape my emotions or try to deal with them. Both ways I will end up with photographs that contain a piece of me and reflect my emotional state of mind at that moment - whether I intended to or not.
I still see photography as my great escape - though now, I see it more as an escape from the world and less as a way to escape my own feelings. After all, for me - I realize -, it was never really about that.
That’s it from me today.
I hope you enjoyed my rather loose ramblings today…
Thank you for being here and for reading this week’s newsletter. It means a lot to me!
X,
Susanne
The interview is in German: https://www.zeit.de/2024/42/claus-bury-bildhauer-tuerme-kunst
Haig, Matt: Reasons to stay alive (2015), p. 130.
Absolutely beautiful reflections on the creative process. I can relate in so many ways.
This makes me think of something related to my own process. One thing I think that photography does for me is direct my attention to the outside world. I’m the sort of person who walks around staring at the ground or my phone, trying to keep my eyes averted from other people, and trying to keep myself in a shell. I realize this stems from growing up non-binary and gay and feeling attacked by society. As part of my coping mechanism, I learned to shut down my senses when out in public. The less I noticed other people, the less I would hear the cruel things they whisper behind my back or see the sneers. Of course, there was probably only 1 whisper for every 1,000 imagined ones so this wasn’t exactly a helpful coping mechanism, but it felt comfortable for me.
Nowadays I still dissociate from the world when I’m outside, generally by looking at my phone. However, when I have a camera in my hand, that wall comes down and I actually pay attention to my surroundings. It forces me to focus my attention outside of myself. And somehow, as long as I have a camera, that doesn’t seem so scary.
I was smiling throughout the entire, well-written post of yours, Susanne. When you see my upcoming post this Sunday, you'll understand why! This is great and it taps into something that I don't think most think about. That level of connection with our work and our inner world is basically why I started writing on my blog back in the day and now here on Substack. It's utterly important to allow ourselves to see that connection. Thank you for sharing it.