About two and a half years ago, I moved from the place that had been home for 15 years to a new home. I had long been unhappy with the old place, but the rent had been cheap. Up until the landlord died it had been impossible to find a replacement; afterwards, there simply was no option other than accepting the considerable increase in rent resulting from a move.

Northampton (MA) had also been a photographic dead end. Much like many places on this planet, it’s a nice place to visit. But living there is an entirely different matter. Regardless, my new surroundings have so far been a lot nicer. In any case, sometimes it takes a completely unrelated event — such as having to move — in order to re-tackle one’s photography.

But some photographic problems cannot be re-set by moving. Sometimes, a change in scenery is all that it takes to make one see anew. And it wasn’t even that I was lacking ideas for something new. In fact, I started working around an idea or two here, only to get stuck.

Getting stuck in photography isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Sometimes, an idea is too simple or hackneyed, and abandoning it is the best approach. There is a problem with abandoning or slowly giving up on a project, though: you don’t find out the real issue. Are you simply being lazy? In other words maybe photographing more could have solved the problem? Or was there some other problem with the idea? And if yes, what was that problem?

I never went to art school so I never learned techniques for dealing with such impasses. Then again, when I was teaching in an MFA program, students were never taught those, either. Artists (assuming photographers are artists; let’s not go there) are supposed to embrace failure, and that’s a good idea. But you also need strategies to make the best use of failure. While it is a good idea to try as many things as you can, the crucial bit is to pay careful attention to what’s not working. And if you can’t see what’s not working, you need strategies to try to figure out what’s going on.

Staring into the abyss of continued photographic failure, at the beginning of this month I gave myself a simple task: I told myself that I needed to figure this out. Specifically, I tasked myself with using my photo notebook to write little notes about what bugged me.

The question I set for myself was one I had not tackled before, and it’s a simple question. Instead of thinking what I wanted to photograph (which idea to pursue), I asked myself what I wanted my photography to do. And by that I meant to do for myself.

As it turned out, within less than a week a series of brief notes provided the breakthrough that had eluded me for so long. I will not go into the details here, given that most of the details are very private; they’re also as of yet not in a stage where sharing them makes sense.

But I do think that this approach is useful for other people as well. Sometimes, the problem with one’s photographs (or ideas/projects) isn’t so much that something isn’t working with them. Sometimes, the problem is that the overall approach does not scratch the larger itch that one isn’t even aware of.

In general, asking what one wants something to do is a good idea for a photographer. In a different context, when you make a photobook, you need to figure this out as well: what do you want it to do? I don’t mean basic aspects such as reaching an audience. I also don’t mean superficial aspects such as showcasing the work. I mean its inherent artistic goal: what should the book do?

For example, with my first photobook I wanted to create a specific mood for a viewer. I wanted the viewer to feel unsettled after they looked at the book, reflecting how I have been feeling about Germany, the country where I was born, ever since the Nazis started crawling out of the holes they had been hiding in for decades.

You might imagine that asking the question what you want your photography to do is too broad, too unspecific. I understand where that objection is coming from. As it turns out, though, when you apply it, you’re not interested in extremely specific answers. The answer(s) might sound vague to someone else; but as long as it (they) strongly resonate with you, you’re good.

To use a very different context, if you’re in a nasty mood and you figure out that you’re just hangry, that’s all you need to know. You don’t need to know what exactly you need to eat. Eating something will solve the problem (of course, you can turn what to eat into a follow-up problem — if you’re so inclined, my advice would be: don’t do that).

It’s much too early for me to see where things will be going with my photography. What I can say, though, is that over the course of the past couple of weeks, photographs that previously would have been much too scattered now feel connected. And I am starting to see photographs in the world that my focus on the various projects had hidden from me.

I am, after all, one of those photographers who starts out from collecting pictures first, connecting them later to arrive at my own larger truth, a truth I wasn’t even aware of before. The person who goes out to pursue very specific ideas — that’s just not me.

Anyway, a little while ago, the Swell Maps’ Peel Sessions were released. I only found out a couple of weeks ago (or so). Here is one of my favourite songs from the session:

A little while ago, I came across the website German History in Documents and Images (you can toggle the language to English at the top). For example, this is the section dealing with the Weimar Republic. Each section has its own set of subsections, dealing with more specific aspects. If for some reason you need to look into Germany, the website really is an incredible source of information.

These days, the news often is often so disorienting that it might as well have been written by comedians. And usually, the realization that something is real — and not a joke — is somewhat depressing.

Picture my surprise when I came across the following item. I’m still not 100% convinced that it is not a joke. But it involves Japan, a country that’s not known for being overly joke oriented. And this news item has now been covered by serious news organizations, so it’s got to be real, right?

OK, this is it: “Japanese snack giant Calbee says it will temporarily switch to black and white packaging for some of its best-known products as supplies of an ingredient used in ink have been disrupted by the Iran war.”

This sounds like ordinary news, except that the visuals… I mean as someone who works with black and white photographs, the packaging does not look real. We do not see black and white material out in the real world!

Except that now, we do. Well, if “we” means living in Japan.

I don’t know about you, but I still have trouble believing this. But I found a news video (CNN, sorry!) that includes the bags:

I might have to try to order a bag or two. I might only believe it with my own eyes when I have proof in my own house.

Speaking of black and white… I just changed this email’s subject line, making it “Full Moon (in black and white")”. The new subject line then reminded me of a story I came across a day ago: “The Ansel Adams Publishing Rights Trust released a statement on Saturday slamming the recent decision by New York’s Danziger Gallery to offer an AI-generated artwork referencing the famed photographer’s work at the 2026 edition of the AIPAD Photography Show in April.”

The things some people will do for money…

I have a few more links. But I’m going to save those for next time. I’m getting hungry. And I better finish writing this email before I get hangry.

As always thank you for reading!

— Jörg