I step up to the counter and am greeted most enthusiastically by a petit woman of about 30. “What’ll you have?” she asks cheerfully.
“Cup of coffee,” I mutter.
“You need room for cream?” she chirps.
“No. Black.”
“Awesome!”
I feign a little smile to express appreciation for her having recognized my awesome nature.
In truth, I’m so frequently awesome that it becomes a struggle to politely acknowledge all who commend me. Case in point — a mere 30 minutes earlier, my awesomeness was spotted at the corner grocery. The cashier, upon ringing up my total, glanced up from her till and stated, “that’ll be $4.05.”
I reached into my wallet, peeled off a five dollar bill and handed it over.
“Do you have a nickel?” she asked.
I plunged a hand into a pocket, fished around and extracted a beaver-crested 5¢ Canadian coin and dropped it into her outstretched hand.
“Awesome!”
Her affirmation of my formidableness was expressed so boisterously that every customer in my vicinity gazed upon me in admiration.
Such awesomeness is both frequent and boundless. If an acquaintance queries me about my weekend plans, it matters not what I answer. Even if I answer “I have no plans,” their response is inevitably a heartily delivered “awesome!” When I call and make a dinner reservation, it’s a rare host or hostess that isn’t moved to mention such awesomeness. When a tourist needs help finding Robson Street, and I point and say “two blocks that way,” I am not just thanked — I am praised as “awesome.”
Awesome as I apparently am at most everything, there is one endeavour at which I’ve failed to be awesome: photography. Mind you — I have experienced some tangential photographic awesomeness. For example, many of my cameras have been praised for being awesome — and the older a camera is, the more frequently total strangers stop me on the street to tell me so. Occasionally, one of these strangers will ask me why I’m shooting film. I’ll say something like, “I like the way it looks.” This, too, is often praised for its awesomeness.
But here’s the thing: It’s not enough that I have awesome cameras, nor is it sufficient that my choice of photographic media is also awesome. What I really and truly want is to take at least one awesome photograph before I die.
I know it’s possible to take awesome photos, because I’ve seen them. Hundreds of them taken by the likes of Tomatsu, Takanashi, Nakahira, Moriyama, Hosoe, Domon, Araki — and that’s just in Japan!
It’s a cruel twist of fate that my ability to produce exact change on demand is deemed “awesome,” yet I’ve never once had a photograph praised for its awesomeness.
There are a few possible explanations for this. One, of course, is that I suck as a photographer. Another is that there’s a possible disconnect between my definition of “awesome” and its modern, colloquial usage.
In hopes of learning the truth, I did a Google image search on “awesome photography.” No disrespect to any photographer whose work appeared, but I didn’t see a single photo that I would have wanted to take myself. To me, every one of the resulting photos combined technical competence with an over-reliance on software filters to produce the sort of trendy commercial look that’s been so universally popular and emulated for the past decade. That’s fine if that’s your thing. But is it awesome?
Maybe I’m a born cynic, or maybe it’s my generation, but I believe awesome should inspire awe — and to do so, it should be something that blows your mind and shatters your preconceptions. Delivering something that fits within the narrow constraints of preconception is not my idea of awesome.
So what does this tell me? It tells me that both possible explanations for my lack of awesomeness are valid. While the disconnect between my definition of awesome and the rest of the world’s would explain why no one thinks my photographs are awesome, it still doesn’t mask the fact I have yet to take a photo that fits my own definition of “awesome.”
Then again, maybe it’s simply impossible to actually awe oneself. I think someone would need to be either extraordinarily self-aware or extraordinarily narcissistic in order to blow their own mind.
And so I soldier on — searching for the elusive awesome photo while collecting my awesome merit badges for drinking black coffee and pointing to local tourist destinations. But it makes me wonder — if the mediocre and mundane are now classified as “awesome,” is the truly awesome still possible? After all, if someone creates something worthy of inspiring awe, yet no one is actually awed by it, then by definition it isn’t awesome. It’s a depressing thought — and yet I’m oddly comforted by the idea that, perhaps, this is the plane on which my own photography exists. That would be pretty awesome.
©2015 grEGORy simpson
ABOUT THE PHOTOS: Photos contained within this article are, in no way, meant as potential “awesome photography” candidates. They are, however, somewhat tangentially related to the topic at hand. The final photograph, “Antigravity Boots” depicts what I consider to be a truly awesome event — any man who can sleep standing up deserves my utmost awe. Particularly since I can’t even sleep sitting up, much less facing up while supine in bed. This photo, by the way, was shot with a Type 246 Leica M Monochrom, fronted with a 21mm f/3.4 Super-Elmar-M lens.
Also rather obviously related to the topic is the opening photo, “Prelude to 18 Potentially Awesome Instagram Photos,” which was shot with a Widelux F7 using Tri-X film, which I exposed at ISO 200 and developed in a 1:50 solution of Blazinal.
Filling in the middle is a shot of an obviously awed child in “Envy,” which I shot with a Type 246 Leica M Monochrom using an unknown lens (though its appearance, and the appearance of other photos shot that day, would suggest some kind of 50mm lens). “Memento” was also shot with the Type 246 Leica M Monochrom, only this time I know which lens I used — Leica’s 28mm f/2 Summicron.
REMINDER: If you find these photos enjoyable or the articles beneficial, please consider making a DONATION to this site’s continuing evolution. As you’ve likely realized, ULTRAsomething is not an aggregator site — serious time and effort go into developing the original content contained within these virtual walls.
Particularly enjoyed reading that.
Made me smile.
Thank you.
All We Ever See Only Moments Exist or awesome for short.
Jason:
Always glad to offer up a modicum of entertainment. Though, I must admit, your comment suddenly has me obsessed with the idea of writing an entire post that is, itself, a paragraph-long acronym. However, I suspect I’ll get more enjoyment from imagining such a post than I will from trying to write one.
If your photos aren’t awesome , perhaps your camera is broken. It is common knowledge that if you have an awesome camera, you too can take awesome pictures. Please send it to me for testing immediately.
And, I’ll need the 28mm Summicron for test purposes too.
Awesome.
John:
Thanks for the generous offer. Though I must admit, my awesomelessness is less likely due to a malfunctioning camera than it is to my obstinate refusal to read its owner’s manual. I mean, if I would just read the manual, I’d probably figure out how to use the “M” button on top of my Monochrom — that’s got to be the button that releases the “Magic,” right?
Hi Greg,
I have seen very few awesome photo’s, but I HAVE actually seen some. The two sources that jump to mind are (I) photo’s in the book FULL MOON by Michael Light and (ii) Ken Duncan’s landscape panorama’s, and in this case I am talking about seeing the full-size prints in the flesh. They do blow your mind.
The Full Moon photo’s were made from the actual Hasselblad negatives, and fit your definition of “blowing my mind”. Clear, sharp and truly awe-inspiring.
Anyway, as always, another AWESOME article. 😉
Brendon:
Thanks for sharing those. It’s always good to have new sources from which to seek inspiration, and I appreciate when people share theirs on this site.
I definitely agree with your point about the extra potency involved in seeing good prints (as opposed to books or web images). And, though I often poke gentle fun at landscapes (a right I figure I earned by once being employed as a landscape photographer), some of the most amazing prints I’ve ever seen have come from this genre. Back in my San Francisco days, I was a member of the Ansel Adams Friends of Photography Gallery and was repeatedly blown away by their rotating collection of Adams’ prints. Standing before one was practically a religious experience — and I’m not even an Ansel Adams fan! So that makes it doubly awesome.
When it comes to my own idea of awesome photography, I find myself awed more by a photo’s content than its technical merits. If a photograph speaks in metaphor and riddle and yet, at the same time, I can’t stop looking at it — searching for the meaning while simultaneously captivated by its form — that’s what tends to awe me these days.
I don’t know… Every time I open the main site I see a drill bit and a piece of something, But it’s a microphone stand and speaker. Isn’t awesome?
Wojtek:
On it’s own, I don’t think it quite qualifies as “awesome.” However if I were able to create a diptych in which I partnered it with a photo of a drill bit that resembled a mic stand… well, THEN I might have something. 🙂
And again, I don’t know … Don’t you think it would be too obvious? On the other hand, if almost all obvious things you do are awesome to most of the people you meet, then maybe…
Awesome article! You must have a really awesome keyboard! (I did, as usual, really enjoy it)
Egor,
I think the problem you have is that in our current social state of affairs “awesome” as a word has been demoted to the mundane. It is a word that would be seldom used in the past century except when something really sat you down while in awe.
“Awesome” has become a place holder for use when one is not finding an appropriate superlative in their available vocabulary.
If you replace the adjectives with feelings you might find that there are some occasions actually close to awe.
There are moments or images that make me pause. One instant I’m mindlessly rushing through my daily fog and then suddenly something caught my eye and stops me in my tracks. I have to look. I have to generously pause and waste my “precious” time in an unacceptable amount (by our social conventions) and take it all in.
If you’re someone who carries a camera everywhere you go… you might be quick enough to freeze that feeling/moment on film (or else). Whether it turns into an “awesome” picture or not is more a question of vocabulary. You’ll know how it really stands when you surprise yourself taking a longer pause (or not) while looking at the processed shot.
While you search for that elusive grail of photographic goodness; Take solace in the fact that your writing is meaty, thought-provoking stuff that will inspire more good in totality than any one artist could be.
Well, as long as you stay away from gear reviews, at any rate. Really, who cares?
Egor,
You judge yourself too hard.
Your photographs are akin to being given the right directions.
Your articles are the perfect companion to a timely nickel.
Thank you.
Having only recently discovered your site, this article (in particular) finally made me want to stop in and comment:
A truly hilarious read.
Thanks for the laugh (…and “Hi” from snowy Edmonton)
Best regards,
Mark
Oh regret! Oh joy!
I disappeared. You didn’t.
I appear to have about 2 years worth of stuff to catch up on. Honestly, I will just die if you finally made a book and it is now since out of print and I can’t get one. And, if you still haven’t made a book, I will die that you are still holding out on the tactilists amongst us.
I will now binge on Ultrasomething seasons 2016, 2017 like a DVD box set (or whatever people do on Netflix these days).
Oh, and by the way, images you have made that I have seen in two years are still clear in my mind, including some awesome ones. You are not very awesome or accepting of your photographic awesomeness. In the meantime, perhaps you will accept that you are awesome at photographic… ideas.
Welcome back Linden.