The Creative Process

The Creative Process

By William Lulow

Lots of folks are interested to know about the creative process and how it works. Most artists, be they writers, painters, songwriters, photographers or sculptors will tell you that their inspirations come from many different sources. They may be other people, events and experiences but most probably begin with feelings of some sort. The problem for many creatives is how to convert those feelings into some kind of tangible art form.

I was recently listening to the Beatles’ version of a John Lennon song titled “Dear Prudence.” Like many over the years, I heard that the song was written for Prudence Farrow, Mia’s sister. The song isn’t a “great” song in the sense that it has amazing lyrics and an amazing musical line, but it well illustrates the importance of using all the tools you have at your disposal in your efforts to translate your feelings into your art. The Beatles, of course, had their rich knowledge of music and the recording studio as their palette on which to play out their creations. If you listen closely to Lennon’s tune, the way Paul’s bass, George’s guitar lines, Ringo’s percussion and the group’s vocal harmonies work, you can get a good idea of exactly what John must have been feeling when he wrote the song.

Here is an example of collective creativity at its absolute best. One can imagine the Beatles sitting in the studio talking to one another (and their producer, George Martin) about how the song was going to be done when they all had their parts to do.

Visual ideas and creations often have the same kind of birth. They begin with a feeling and then, using all the tools at the artist’s disposal, progress to a finished painting or photograph. In the case of a photograph, the tools consist of light, a camera and, these days, a digital workflow. You can easily think of the Beatles doing this because we all know them and their music so well. But not so well known are independent artists who go through this process creating their art every day.

Here are a couple of examples of what I mean. I will start with the feelings and progress to how I translated them to photographs. The first is a portrait of a graphic designer friend. I wanted to make an image that would convey my feeling of what a good designer he was, so I knew the image had to be in stark black and white and the lighting had to reflect the same graphic feel as a crisp, black and white print. Here is the image:

So, I decided to arrange the lighting so that the background would go from light to dark while the lighting on the face would do just the opposite, thus creating a stark, graphic visual image of the designer. This was a clear translation of feelings into an art form. And, it represents the way the process works, at its best.

Another example:

This is a sunrise shot of Sarasota, Florida taken from a spot on Longboat Key, where we like to go in December-January. I wanted to create a “warm” feeling photograph of the city from the island. So, I picked a spot where I knew I would be able to see the sky looking east, carefully framed the shot, then actually did a panorama which consisted of two separate exposures with tripod helping to create a successful overlap, while keeping the horizon the same.

Yet another portrait, this time of the famous Vogue editor, Diana Vreeland. I wanted to make a statement about how she was now in charge of the Costume Institute of the Metropolitan Museum of Art in New York City (back in 1975, of course). So, I asked her to stand behind a table with various books of fashion designers. This was the result:

Sometimes, just a hint of a person’s career or métier is all that is necessary to convey a feeling. I wanted to do a portrait of Mitch Miller, the famous pop conductor. But instead of capturing him actually conducting the orchestra, I thought it would be appropriate to photograph him sitting behind his desk, which was where he was doing most of his work at this point in his career. I asked to come to his office where I actually set up only one light. At some point, during the shoot, I asked him to pick up his baton. This was the shot:

Better images are actually thought about and set up before they are actually taken. There are many photographers who believe that more shooting provides the best choices. But it’s really the most well-thought out images that are the best. For the Diana Vreeland image above, I took exactly fourteen images. A similar number for the Mitch Miller photo. This really shows that the more you think about exactly what kind of image you want, the closer you will come to executing it.