I just read the following in the “Daybooks of Edward Weston”
Wednesday, June 8, 1927
I have to show my prints so often that I detest every one of them. I suppose this is all right if I am forced by my reactions to create new.
I think this is so powerful, but I would like to make one small change to fit my own purpose:
I look at my prints so often that I detest every one of them. I suppose this is all right if I am forced by my reactions to create new.
Each time I look at my old prints I find fault and frequently question how I could have been so excited when I created it. There isn’t a single print I have ever made where I didn’t think I could have done better. Case in point, I created an image from my recent trip to Great Smokey Mountains National Park of a beautiful light molding a valley. It was a beautiful vista and I fell in love with the moment. A storm had just passed by and the clouds were starting to lift, allowing sunlight to stream through. It was truly magical, but I wasn’t able to fully capture the moment in the first image I created.
I lived with it for a couple of weeks, disliking it the more I looked at it. I wanted to be back in the moment and although my mind and imagination often ventured there, the image I created seemed far from the experience of the moment. I made another attempt and the torture commences once again….