A Failed Series is a Series None-the-Less
"Failure is a word that permeates my existence, shadowing each and every one of my endeavors."
In the beginning days of 2023, I came across of large piece of and unneeded, thin piece of plastic, and without hesitation I quickly dreamed up a new series of photographs while holding it in my hands. It was similar to fabrics I’ve worked with before, so the cross over, in concept, was fairly simple. The idea was to utilize the (saved from a landfill) plastic and relate the photographs made with it to, somehow, showcase the environmental impact of discarded plastics.
“Failure” is a word that permeates my existence, shadowing each and every one of my endeavors as a photographer. For every series I begin, there are more I considered, and never started. Not because I’m fearful to begin them, but because I’ve already convinced myself I’d fail. I understand immensely how negative that sounds, but I’m still unable to bypass that mode of thinking. If I do start any series, it’s because I figured out how at that particular time.
It was a respectable start at the Great Sand Dunes in southern Colorado.
Expectations are fairly low at a first session as the series is in its infancy and it’s challenging to predict where it’ll end up. That first exploration is the starting part, an intro, a way to familiarize myself with the model, the premise, and the conditions. Once we completed the first session, and after developing the film, I decided to utilize different locations going forward, a common practice amongst previous series’.
For the second session, I chose a trusted location I’ve photographed at before, but never with a full series in mind. Several great photographs were created outside of the series that day, but nothing we made for the series turned out as I had hoped. I couldn’t quite anticipate and time the weather (fog) well enough or generate the correct atmosphere I was seeking.
I came to the conclusion (or in hindsight, an excuse) that this particular location was too confined, too limiting, and too structured compared to the expansiveness and open air quality of the first location, the sand dunes. I felt restricted and needed to “spread out” to generate the same kind of imagery I had in mind. In lieu of that thought process, session number three was planned at a new location.
I was excited about this particular (hidden) spot— I had used it before and understood and valued it’s capabilities and I trusted it would provide me with pleasing photographs for the series. It was versatile as well— from one direction I had vast open sky at my disposal, a stunning landscape mimicking the conditions at the first session. And if I turned around 180 degrees, I had an entirely different landscape to utilize with large boulders, dark crevices, and bold outcroppings.
Unfortunately, yet again, I made no photographs (good enough for the series) at the third session and frustration set in. Usually, at this point during a series, I have a very clear goal and I’m aware of how I need to proceed, or a defined pattern of photographs, or in some cases I’m often close to wrapping up. I decided that I needed to go back to the location of the first session to accurately portray my vision.
This time around, at the sand dunes, the weather was much different— full, expansive cloudless sky, less wind, hotter, and more crowded. We had to walk further away to escape being seen and the lighting conditions weren’t what I was hoping for, but certainly usable. One quick note, getting to the sand dunes is over a 4hr drive with no stops. It’s rarely a day trip, for us, we made it one… twice.
At this point, due to the title of this post, I trust you know where this is going. This session felt like a repeat of the previous two. I had a great model, great idea, and yet horrible execution. For the third time in three sessions I couldn’t generate anything I had envisioned. I ended up stopping the use of the plastic very early on, switched gears to photograph something different, and ending up creating beautiful photographs completely unrelated to the series. It was as if the series itself was causing me to fail.
And so I did something I had never done before; I stopped the series entirely. I have all the photographs saved and perhaps one day in the future I’ll come back to it. But for now, the end feels unreachable. And even as I write this, sadly, undesirable. I know the photographs included in this Substack aren’t horrible in any way, as stand alone images some are solid. But aside from one or two, none accurately portrayed what I originally had in mind (which I couldn’t begin to describe perfectly if you asked me in person).
I’m constantly thinking about failure, to some degree. Alongside death, it looms over me as a larger fear. Whether it’s failing a test, failing to recognize or prevent something bad from happening, or failing to act on something… it is a word I apply to myself far too often. In an effort to progress past these feelings, or at the very least accept them for what they are, I’m documenting this series in a different light. It may not be a completed series in the traditional sense comparing it to my others, however it remains a series none-the-less.
Even failure, or what I see as failure, is still a series.
If you can relate to anything I wrote, or wanted to reach out in any way, please feel free to leave a comment or simply respond to this email if you’d like to keep it private.
I think knowing when something *doesn’t* work is maybe a more valuable skill than knowing when it does. My dad was a novelist and we were chatting one day about his work, when he told me that he was stopping a book he’d been writing for the last 4 months because it wasn’t working. I was stunned but also impressed at the discipline required to walk away from that much effort.
quite insanely beautiful.