What a ‘Works in Progress’ session taught me about overcoming creative paralysis

I spend a lot of time thinking about my own photographic practice, but not nearly as much time doing anything about it. I have ideas for individual photos, for series I want to start or expand and concepts I would like to explore deeper. I’ve thought of different ways of printing and hanging my work, in case I ever get to show any of it. But when it comes to actually making the work, my follow-through is often lacking.

That tension was on my mind this week while attending Sony’s Kando event in Vermont, where Sony invited me, along with fellow press and other image-makers. One session in particular, Works in Progress, brought some of those thoughts into focus.

Works in Progress is modeled after National Geographic sessions, where photographers briefly present a single project they are currently working on in order to get feedback and find inspiration from each other. At Kando, individuals get seven minutes to share images or videos and a little bit about the body of work.

The session isn’t about gear at all; in fact, it was rare for someone to mention their setup and no technical details were mentioned. Instead, each presentation focused entirely on the ideas and images from a particular project they are passionate about and currently developing.

Jean Fruth, a Sony Artisans of Imagery, shared about a documentary project she’s working on dedicated to women’s hockey. Abby Ferguson

That passion is my favorite part of the session: seeing people’s commitment to the work. Ira Block, a Sony Artisan of Imagery who co-chaired the session, summed it up well after the presentations: “Nothing is more inspiring than watching the inspiration of others.” There were remarkable photographs and videos throughout, but what stayed with me was watching people stand in front of a room and talk openly about the projects that matter to them. It made me look at my own work with a bit of renewed lens.

I could give a long list of reasons for pushing my own photography to the side. I have a full-time job and teach a college photography course. My husband and I just bought a house that needs a fair amount of work. My studio space is not really a studio at the moment, and it may not be for some time. It is expensive. I struggle to find the right venues, calls for art, and people to connect with. The list goes on.

Thankfully, I have been slightly more active with my art over the past month, and that feels like progress. I recently made time for a self-portrait that had been on my mind for months, and the process was deeply fulfilling. I also joined two friends to install a small exhibition at the campus gallery where we teach. Even better, the work I hung was from a series I have barely shown or discussed. 

Katie Tasch

Those were small steps toward finding my artistic voice again. They were a small flex of the creative muscles. And they also reminded me that I need to make something regularly, even if it is small.

I also need to remember the value of being around other creative people from time to time. I have written before about how joining local photography groups helped me find community in what can be a very solitary practice. This was a different kind of gathering, but it offered a similar reminder: making work can become isolating, especially when it keeps getting pushed behind work, responsibilities and everyday life. Being in a room with people who are actively wrestling with ideas, taking creative risks and sharing unfinished work can be an important kind of fuel.

That is what the Works in Progress session offered. Seeing what others were making and the care they were bringing to it gave me a burst of energy to return to my own work. It was a reminder to keep making photographs, even if I don’t yet know where a project is going, whether anyone will like it or whether it will ever see the light of day.

I know this session won’t be a magical kick in the pants that suddenly makes me create on a regular basis. But hearing that voice in my head more often can only help. And maybe my writing this can be that voice for someone else who also needs a gentle push to get out that camera or make some art. I hope it is.