Went to a remarkable panel discussion last night: Four extraordinary National Geographic photographers, past and current, and the (now retired) director of photography who'd hired them and managed their work for decades.

The evening began with a slide show of 20 images from each of the photographers. Then the moderator -- also a National Geographic photographer -- posed questions. Eventually, the discussion turned back to the images.

Sam Abell, author of "The Photographic Life," spoke about the one image of his that perplexed me when it came up in the slide show: A drab, seemingly uncomposed b&w pic of an old tv next to a lamp with the plastic wrapper on the shade, both perched on a rickety looking dresser against a nothing of a wall.

That, he said, he'd taken right after the NG had hired him and sent him off to Newfoundland. He'd spent three miserable days hiding in his room in a cinder block motel there, terrified he was a failure. He didn't know where to find pictures. Or how to approach them if he did find any. He carted a Leica around as a symbol of his commitment to photography, and eventually he gathered enough courage to pick it up and make that drab little image of the tv.

On the tv was Rex Humbard, the tv evangelist who counted Elvis Presley among his regular viewers -- something of an ironic slash at a photographer having a crisis of faith in himself.

Abell's message was that the greatest challenge photographers confront is hanging on to their commitment to their art, not in the face of rejection or adversity, but in the face of self-doubt.

His story seemed to resonate deeply with the other "legends" on the panel and with the audience, which contained a number of photographers with national and international reputations. Certainly, it resonated with me, but of course, until last night, I thought it was my personal, freaky, much-deserved amateur's problem.

The good news is I'm not alone.

The bad news is even if I get very, very, very much better as a photographer, it's likely that I'll find myself returning to the cinder block motel.

If you've checked in there yourself now and again, I'll leave you with the words of another panelist, David Burnett. After recounting strategies and misadventures of his own, he said photography comes down to one thing: "Sooner or later, you gotta find a way to get out of the hotel room."

See you on the sidewalk.

Nice post Leslie.

Of course, I am a little ... little biased. ;o)

Signed,

Leslie (named after my Hungarian grandfather)

That’s a great message you have passed on for us. Gee, It’s good to know that self-doubt plagues other people too.

Yeah, it's a relief to find out the greats have the same problem. Now if I could just hang that hard left and believe that because I have the problem, I must be great.

(Might be easier in a field other than photography where... y'know... what you are doesn't keep coming out of the camera and staring back at you.)

A related observation from the panel: The photographers often felt enormous pressure because the National Geographic gave them all the time and all the money they needed. If the pix weren't good, well, there could be only one reason.

Kinda makes me want to work for the cheapest, fastest-turnaround little newspaper I can find.

Leslie
(so named because mother wanted to negotiate only one name with father, regardless of output's not yet known gender)

I’d prefer the pressure of getting it right, knowing how satisfying it is when you do get it right.