Guy Tal recently posted some thoughts on the art of copying on his blog. He begins his article with the following statement, quoted here:

I recently read with great interest a Facebook discussion among landscape photographers. The premise was that if a photograph can be closely duplicated by another photographer, then it is not truly an original nor deserving of being considered art.

Something I’d like to add to this discussion is that “copying” is an established form of training artists. Many of the great masters of art were apprenticed to artists before them, and part of their training was to go to great works of art and copy them, learning by rote how to present a scene by copying them as close as possible. As a result, you can find actual paintings that are copies of great works of art.

In my younger days, I spent some time as a life model at various colleges on the east coast. I learned a great deal about the process of making art. I’d put on my bathrobe and wander among the easels to see sketches in progress–and it was fascinating to see how others perceived my body and shape. It was an education in variety of perception. Some would focus on my legs, others my breasts, some would emphasize my hips or my arms. They were all working from the same model–me–and each drawing was different. It was all me, but I was myriad, and I was all art.

Living here in Yosemite, I have a huge store of locations to draw from. I also have a tough act to follow, namely Ansel Adams. Sure, I can go up to Tunnel View at the magic hour, stand elbow to elbow with the landscape paparazzi, and get that iconic shot of Clearing Winter Storm. And I have. It’s part of my learning process, and not only how and when to shoot that iconic view of Yosemite Valley, but also how to deal with other human beings that are doing the same thing I am. Whether it’s artists with their easels clustered around a model on her platform, or photographers with their tripods lined up along the rock wall, we are all learning our craft. And *that* is art in the making, and artists in the making. It’s all good.

So next time you’re part of that lineup at Tunnel View, think of it as an art class. We’re all learning, adding to our portfolios, and there is a need for learning the particulars of iconic locations as well as developing your own unique vision. Don’t discount the iconic, take what is handed to you with gratitude. It’s not copying, it’s learning the art.