What makes “good” art?

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Welcome to Creatives Anonymous, a weekly newsletter that explores what it means to be a modern-day creative. It inspires, encourages, and empowers readers to take back their creative power.

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One of the most philosophical questions we can ask ourselves as artists is what determines whether a piece of art is “good” or not? 

Is it in the design principles followed? The composition? Its impact?

We joke that “anyone can do that” or “how is this even considered art?” 

Ironically, while anyone can create art, not everyone can. 

Creating art is an emotional journey that requires us to heal our inner child. Bearing our souls on a piece of paper or a canvas takes courage. We can have all the technical know-how, but our emotional tie pulls us in and keeps us creating. 

That’s why judging what “good” art is is hard. It’s entirely subjective. 

Some of us judge “good” art by how technically correct it is (does it follow the Golden Ratio or Rule of Thirds?). Some judge “good” art by how much it emotionally resonates with us. 

I think the most important indicator of “good” art is its meaning to us. 

“Good” art means something to us. It helps us tell a story or express our emotions. It’s how we see and interpret the world around us. 

And not everyone is going to understand that. As long as we have conviction in the art we produce, it will always be “good” in our eyes, even if it’s not deemed “good” by everyone else. 

Today’s interviewee is my cousin-in-law, Lucas Adams. Lucas is a high school English teacher in Salem, Oregon. Over the last year or so, he’s picked up photography as a hobby and creative outlet. 

You recently picked up photography as a hobby. What inspired you to try it? 

I was actually interested in photography in my earlier years. I am now 45, and it feels old. I took photography in middle school for three years and loved it. In my late teens and early 20s, I had two friends who worked at a camera repair shop, and I bought an old Pentax M.E. Super from them for $100. I loved it, but the film was expensive, and I was super broke and more interested in music.

For as long as I can remember, I have loved everything creative people do. I spent my teenage years studying music, dropped out of high school to play guitar, studied formally at the local community college, and played in various bands. In my mid-20s, I started reading a lot and turned my attention to literature. I went to college and became a high school English teacher.

What I loved about music and literature was their ability to express something novel, which connected me to myself and the world around me in interesting ways. I had much to express, and these mediums worked well for me. Then I got married, had kids, and became a teacher. It is tough to make time for creative things in adult life.

For most of my adult life, I struggled with not having a creative outlet. I hated that it wasn’t a more significant part of my life. And that, I suppose, is when I saw William Eggleston's picture of a tricycle. I was engulfed and a bit transported. I am romanticizing a bit, but the photo felt magic. It felt like a sad childhood or something. I don’t know. 

I recently became obsessed with the difference between all the snapshots we take with our phones and art made with a camera last March. The guiding question for me became, “When does a photo become more than something a mother stores in the cloud and never looks at?”

The other thing about photography that made it stick for me is that I didn’t care if the photos were “bad” by some standard. I am not self-conscious about the photographs and love just taking them. (I say taking because I hope to feel like I made them someday.) This is part of their value as “art.”

I find photography interesting because it asks what qualifies as “art,” which is fascinating. I still have this itching feeling that anyone can take good photos and that, in some stupid way, if I can do it, it’s…less valuable. And this is where art shows us ourselves. I was always so self-conscious about writing and making music. This desire to be perceived as “good” at them makes me physically ill. I don’t have that about taking pictures.

You mentioned being initially interested in street photography but switching to portraits. What interested you in portrait photography? 

I bought a book by Eggelston, and there was a copy of Alex Webb’s Dislocations. Those photographs are something else altogether. Then, I started down this deep hole of the great photographers. I found a photographer named Paulie Baldonado from New York. He takes videos and interviews famous internet photographers walking around New York, taking pictures, and talking about photographs and photographers. I love them. 

Street photography is so interesting because it is about luck and being in the right place at the right time. I like this about it. I could live on the street and take pictures if I had a different life. Like this guy in San Francisco, Jake Richer, is on the Golden Gate Bridge eight to ten hours a day, six days a week. He has done that for about six to seven years. I find just that act, let alone the photographs, so fascinating. It’s completely crazy. But the obsession for him doesn’t seem to stop. It’s difficult not to wonder if that guy is, like, ‘ok’ internally. How does someone do that? 

I live in Salem, Oregon. It is, to me, very boring. I don’t like it. It is not all that rewarding to hang out downtown and take pictures. There is no one there. People see you from a mile away, and then it gets weird…either they look to punch you or pose in some stupid way. There is nothing natural about it. I spent last summer going downtown, seeing what I could get, and it didn’t feel right. Not because there isn’t a photo, but because I’d like to think good images are everywhere. An artist with a camera would find something to take pictures of. But I didn’t love it. I think it’s because I struggle to love where I live. If I were doing it in Portland, where I am from, I would love it, but there is more there, too. 

Then, I started taking pictures of people, mostly my students. They loved it. It was a gift for them, which made it feel meaningful. I work with migrants and refugees, and I think having a high-quality image of themselves is a real gift for many. I love that.

So, I set up a small studio in my garage and started doing sitting portraits with people in my life. We sit, talk, and drink, and I take pictures. I don’t ask anything of them. I take photos while they talk about themselves and ask questions. I try to listen mostly, but I can get pretty chatty. I have had this idea where I agree to sign an NDA, and people can tell me anything. I have to promise never to tell a soul. I am, of course, trying to capture who I see them to be, which is never who they see themselves as, which I find so fascinating.

How has your interest in photography evolved since you first bought your camera? 

It has only gotten deeper. It has taken over my life a little. It may distract me from something more important I am putting off, but it’s all I think about and want to do. I finished Susan Sontag's fantastic book, On Photography, and started rereading it immediately. There is so much in that book that I am trying to understand more fully.

What are your future plans with it? 

I plan to keep taking pictures. I plan to keep evaluating my own images and working to make them something closer to what I am ‘aiming’ for, which I am not quite sure just what yet. Perhaps something like Ivan Weiss. 

I would also love to turn it solely into a side hustle. It would feel good to be sought after as someone who makes great images in my community. In some ways, I am looking for a new identity. I would also love to make back the money I have spent…this shit isn’t cheap, and I fall victim to the thinking that it is a bit pay-to-play and that naive mentality that if “I just had that one lens,” then my images would be better. Looking back, I think I should have just bought a Leica and stuck with that. I use Sony stuff, and it gets a bit out of control how good that company is at selling me shit.

What’s one creative project that you’re working on now? 

I am going to take a portrait of everyone I know. I also take a picture every day at lunch in the school cafeteria. I take a photo of the same table at the same time. It’s not interesting, but mostly the same kids sitting in different places. I will soon begin taking portraits of migrants and talking with them about their stories. I work with migrant kids, teaching them English, and in this political climate, I have a great deal of concern for these people. I would be greatly honored if photographs had some useful political impact, at least in some minor way of helping to see them as people.

What’s one piece of advice you have for any fellow creative? 

Just do it. Don’t worry about what other people think unless you respect their opinion and it is given in a spirit of helpful feedback. Look internally for what pleases you in some way. Define ‘“good” by what you like. Copy and modify. 

Ira Glass, the host of This American Life, gave an excellent short talk about the creative act. In it, he discusses a person’s taste and making things according to that taste. I think we know what he means. But if you have “good” taste, you should keep working on it until it meets your standards. I like that idea a lot. 

Photography has been the first time in my life that something creative has felt free. It's about feeling free and just making what comes out.

It is easy to take photos and ask what is not ‘pleasing.’ But if you make a painting, it takes forever. The process of editing and thinking takes much longer. Other photographers may hate me, but getting better at photography this way seems easy. I don’t yet know if this is true. 

I can’t tell if my photographs are “good” yet. But I have learned just to be happy with doing it and not worry about the product so much. These ideas are not mine; they may be cliches, but I think cliches are enjoyable because, at one time or another, they had a lot of power and have lost that power because of their ubiquity. But it is true, I think. 

The other advice is to consume as much of what you want to create as possible. 

So, if you want to write poetry, read all of it. If music, listen to all of it. Creators, a term I like and don’t like, need to be sophisticated consumers, too. But I am sure there is an argument against this. 

Art is not a vacuum. Like it or not, there is a context. We should be aware of that context. It becomes difficult because we can measure ourselves to real geniuses, which most are not. But this is where art and making it can be very instructive; you have to learn to be kind to yourself and patient.

Everything takes time and energy…trust the process. But if you don’t like doing it for the sake of doing it, then don’t do it. 

Knowing the difference between perseverance when it is difficult. I remember hating practicing guitar at times. It felt too much like work. But perhaps that is why they refer to an artist's product as their “work.” Perhaps when it becomes a feeling of ‘work’ is when the real shit is getting done.

I think I have like…two or three pictures I like. But they did not take a great deal of work. It felt like luck or something. But perhaps the “work” was what led up to it—learning the technical part of the craft and going out to do it. I’d like it to never feel like work. I’d like to have some “radar,” where if it feels like work, that is the wrong thing. I’d like to only ‘work’ off inspiration, but this may not be realistic. Come back to me when I have produced something of real value, and I may have a different thing to say. 

One last piece of advice, something I have not done myself, is to find other people who do the same thing as you. I have thought about this but don’t know if it is a good idea. I have always romanized the artist's solitude, writing alone in a closet or painting alone in the studio. I don’t know why this appeals to me. Perhaps it is something vain that wants to take and give to one special individual. I have always idolized artists in this way. Like, they are unique. I am trying to get away from that. Everyone should be an artist. Whatever that is.

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CREATIVE CORNER

• 🎞️ What I’m Consuming: Season 2 of The Recruit on Netflix

• 💡 What I’m Loving: My new website! I updated it with all my new brand images and am obsessed with how it turned out.

• 🎨 What I’m Working On: Catching up on some journaling

• 💭 Weekly Musing:

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Alexa Phillips is a writer, brand strategist, and multi-passionate creative. She is the founder and CEO of Bright Eyes Creative, a creative studio helping creative brand leaders become tastemakers by turning their POV into content-driven brands.

Where to find me:

• Listen to my recent podcast episodes here.

• Subscribe to my other newsletter, The Underground, a weekly zine that teaches creative brand leaders to become tastemakers by creating unforgettable content that breaks through the noise and leaves a mark.