Why making an attempt to make a boring postcard photograph made my work extra inventive

The very first thing I do in a brand new location is search for boring postcards. Not those on the rack, however the scenes that might by no means be photographed and made right into a postcard. I intentionally attempt to make 4 horizontal images of the dullest issues I can discover. Car parks. Ordinary store facades. Scraps of panorama that seem to have zero photographic ‘value’. It is a small behavior of mine, however one I do increasingly more because it instantly modifications how I begin seeing a spot.

This concept owes one thing to Stephen Shore, although not in any lofty approach. Before his images grew to become museum-bound, he additionally made mundane postcards. Straightforward pictures of on a regular basis scenes. Shore handled the postcard as a traditional approach of wanting slightly than one thing to rise above.

Martin Parr came into this from a different angle. Beyond his own photography, Parr has curated, edited, and published books literally titled Boring Postcards. They are exactly what they promise. Flat, dull vistas. Forgettable landmarks such as motorway service stations, shopping malls, and so on. The kind of images that feel utterly forgettable on their own but become strangely compelling when seen together. Parr understood the delightful ordinariness of these postcards.

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When I make my own boring postcards, it started off as a slightly ironic but also practical practice. In one sense, a slight nod to Shore and Parr, but really just a way of making images and removing grand expectations. There is no pressure to find the best view or the right light. I am not trying to impress anyone, including myself. I just photograph what is there and move on. Something useful happens as a result. Those four images quickly build a sense of place that feels more convincing than the obvious landmarks. They describe how a location actually functions. The in-between spaces and the overlooked edges. The quiet negotiations between people, infrastructure, and environment. They might look unremarkable, but they are specific, and specificity is where photographs start to feel alive.

These images often act as a gateway to more adventurous mages; they act as a conduit to get the creative juices flowing. Once the need to make something good disappears, curiosity takes over. I begin to notice with more clarity. The postcard, usually the final product of travel photography, becomes the starting point instead.
I have also become interested in postcards as objects. They are optimistic by design, full of selective vision and gentle persuasion. Making my own versions feels like a way of acknowledging that history while quietly expanding it. Not everything needs to be beautiful to be worth looking at.

Working closer to home over the past couple of years has only reinforced this approach. Familiar places reveal more when you stop demanding spectacle from them. I have started presenting these images in postcard format as a way of keeping the work grounded.

This is how I begin most projects now. Four boring photographs, made without drama, and a reminder that paying attention is often enough.