PixelatedImage Blog

In 1984 Ralph Macchio and Pat Morita changed cinematic history with the greatest movie of all time. If you do not think The Karate Kid is brilliant cinema, we cannot be friends. Who could not love the simple philosophy espoused in the line on the poster: He taught him the secret to Karate lies in the mind and the heart. Not in the hands. I feel a tear coming on even as I write this.

Of all the memorable bits in the movie - I have a point that I’m building to so sit tight - is when Miyage-san begins teaching Daniel, not Karate but home renovations and car-washing with zen-like admonitions to “Paint-up, paint-down. Wax-on, wax-off.” I loved that. I immediately subscribed to Better Homes and Gardens in hopes that I too could learn Karate. It didn’t work.

Back to the point. I learned three things from The Karate Kid, two of which are immediately applicable to the photographic journey.

1. The Crane is a formidable Karate technique if you don’t see it coming. But it’s hard to do with camera in hand and has no immediate photographic application.

2. When you learn the fundamentals so well that they become instinctive, you will never have to think about them and technique itself steps out of the way when you are (a) being bullied by a guy with a mullet or (b) expressing your vision with your camera. I’ll come back to this.

3. The secret to Photography, like Karate, lies more in the mind and the heart than in the tools of our craft. It is primarily an art of expression and everything is derivative of your vision - for which you must have a mind and heart. Time spent exploring the things about which you are passionate is time spent working on your craft, whether you have a camera in hand or not.

Back to #2, the fundamentals. The photographic journey is not one taken in one step or in one day. The camera is deceptively simple and while you can certainly - to extend the Karate metaphor - start flailing and kicking immediately, it will no more make you a black belt than picking up a camera and pointing it helter skelter makes you a photographer.

There is great value in a wax-on, wax-off type of repetitive exercise. Moving your fingers over your camera and lens so often that you know each button by touch gives puts you in a place where you can think, not about the technology, but about the scene in front of you. The same is true of composition - the more familiar you are with a repertoire of compositional possibilities, the sooner you have a starting point with less wasted time and effort. This is a journey that took me nearly twenty years. And it was only then that I finally had a vision I felt passionately enough about that I would pursue this as a career.

Whether your journey ever takes you to a place of vocation, take some comfort in knowing that every frame you shoot - even the junk - takes you closer to getting the geek stuff out of the way and allowing the artist to do his thing without distraction.

If you want to speed up the process, then thank Mr Miyage for the hint, pick up your camera and work it. Blind-fold yourself and identify each button by touch. Can you change ISO or your focus point without looking, without thinking? Can you adjust your EV compensation with little more than a glance? The more unconsciously you can wield your tools, the more you can spend your time looking, reacting, and creating.

“If one really wishes to be master of an art, technical knowledge of it is not enough. One has to transcend technique so that the art becomes an “artless art” growing out of the unconscious”
- Daisetz Susuki, quoted in Freeman’s The Photographer’s Eye