They say that Ansel Adams’ printing style evolved over his life time. If I am correct, his earlier prints were more towards mid-tones, and as he progressed with his printing, the skies got darker and the contrasts were developed into the classic style we tend to remember him for.
Laig Bay, Shot in 2007, reinterpreted in 2023.
I have often commented on this blog, that going back to endlessly rework older images can be unhealthy. I still think that this can indeed be very true. At some point we have to commit, and let go. You only move on if you are able to put an end to older work, and as a musician that could never finish anything because it was never perfect enough, I know all too well the pitfalls of seeking perfectionism in one’s work.
Regarding perfectionism, I’ve written about this in the past, but I will summarise my feelings on it as being entirely a destructive unhealthy approach. Seeking excellence in what you do is one thing, but perfectionism by definition means you are aiming for something that is impossible to achieve. All artist never feel their work is good enough, so at some point you have to accept you’ve done the best you can do, and move on. Keep the creativity flowing. Perfectionism halts it.
Anyway, I digress a little.
I think my views on returning to earlier work has softened a little. I think the main reason is that once you have been making images for several decades, you’re going to have amassed a lot of history. A lot of stuff to live with. I tend not to look at it, and prefer to keep looking right ahead and looking forward to what’s coming up the pipeline. But if you do have a lot of older work, and you keep returning to certain places as I tend to do, then I think I am going to find connections between some of my newer work and the older work. Sometimes I will see unfinished edits in the older work, and realise that the full potential of the image in question (see above) was not realised at the time it was made (2007 in this case).
I just completed a new set of Eigg images. I know these images are a culmination of me working that beach for over sixteen years. I did not have all the answers when I made the original capture, and I feel it is only now that I’m able to fill in the missing gaps.
Often when I look back at my earlier work, I see hints of where I was going to go. It is like a puzzle that I could not entirely see the completion of at the time of capture, and it is only later on, with a lot of water under the bridge, and hopefully more experience, that I can see what was missing.
At the same time though, I am at a conflict: there is often something in my older work that is not present in my newer work. An innocence, naivety, lack of experience? Whatever it is, there is always something endearing about our earlier efforts that, when we tinker with the older work to bring it more in-line with where we are now, we lose something in the process.
Well, I think I can give myself a free pass on this one, as I have no history of endlessly reworking my older work. On the occasions that I have done so, it has always been due to a specific purpose: a book to complete for example. It is often from a functional purpose, rather than a need to fix the past.
On looking back at Ansel’s prints, I realise now that over a career of several decades, you’re going to slowly build up a core collection of maybe a dozen images that you think represent you.
Ansel never left his signature work alone: he always reinterpreted them and printed them to fit where he was as an artist. I think that is cool. I can’t quite claim to be in someone who has an extensive body of work over a long period to do that with, but I’m aware that if I keep going, I might. I think it’s just too early to say. So perhaps I’ll get back to you about this in 2043 ;-)