The Cycle of Competence

    A little deviation today… so if you're expecting photography tips or theory, skip this article and look at my other posts.

    Today I want to talk about a framework model which I came across some years ago: the "Cycle of Competence". This model applies to any skill or ability - driving a car, playing the piano, learning judo or practising photography. It describes the learning process from beginner to expert.

    Stage one is 'unconscious incompetence'. This is where you have a subject which you don't know about, and, moreover, you don't know what you don't know*. This could be something like the stock market, interior design, or Bolivian basket-weaving.

    The next stage is 'conscious incompetence'. You have a basic grasp of a subject, but lack enough skill or knowledge to perform it. In becoming aware of its existence and relevance, you then see how much there is to learn.

    The third stage is 'conscious competence'. You are practised enough to do it, aware of how far you've come, and aware of what else there is to know and learn. The most basic techniques are perhaps second-nature, but the bulk of performing the activity is very much a conscious process.

    Then we reach 'unconscious competence'. The knowledge acquired is now hardwired in the unconscious part of the brain through practice and/or study. Almost as if you're not aware of what you know - it's second-nature, like riding a bicycle**. Like speaking our native tongue, we can produce and process complex sentences at will, taking into account grammar, vocabulary, intonation and body language. But most of us would be unable to analyse or explain the compound verbs, adjuncts, facial clues or speech patterns we use so readily.

    Finally, we have "reflective competence", the highest level. The skill is performed instinctively and effortlessly, and its explanation is fully understood on top. Also, it would suggest an ability to adapt and respond naturally to entirely new challenges, to think ahead, anticipate, and plan. An analogy could be with advanced driving courses, which teach a much wider awareness than required to pass the driving test. Andrew Dyckhoff says: "…there are some elements of what we do that are so critical to successful performance that the highest level of learning is to choose to remain consciously competent, as with the advanced driving analogy: unconscious competence is fine when we are changing gear, but not when passing through a green light..."

    How does this article fit with this blog? Well, it's a concept which has been on my mind since I started these articles. I never wanted to spend too much time writing about the "Rule of Thirds", "Depth of Field" or "Framing". These are techniques and ideas which - although useful -  can easily be found in any photography primer or online resource. And they don't interest me very much.

    Instead, I wanted to talk about the things that, overall, I've learned personally. That is, the things that I've not been taught formally, but which I now know about through my own experience. Since these techniques often work on autopilot, I have found that by unpicking the principles and techniques and setting them down in these articles, it clarifies and formalises them. It places them back into the conscious way I work, and so opens them up to improvement. And so, for those few areas in which I would like to think I'm any good at, I'm trying to work towards reflective competence. And I sincerely hope you might find value in this model.
 
Competence and the Critical Eye

    As you improve as a photographer, you being to notice things previously hidden or ignored. Things which didn't bother you before - perhaps didn't appear on your radar - now become issues. Your pictures get better based on knowledge (either as something consciously or unconsciously learned), and as you see aspects of this learning taking form in your pictures, you become more critical of them. In learning what to 'look for' when you take the picture, so you see those very same things when you judge the picture later. Messy backgrounds, dead space, and burnt-out highlights never bothered me when I started out. They simply didn't register. But looking now, I can see how bad I used to be***! Hopefully, in the years to come I'll feel the same way about the pictures I have in my portfolio now. Because if not, I'm not improving.

    For me, this is where doing photography and viewing photography overlap. Doing photography takes place in real time, with all the difficulties and problems that brings. The better you become, the 'higher' the concerns which you need to consciously think about. A correct exposure, a neater composition, a clean background - these are now second nature and taken for granted, as you put your conscious mind to the next level - using flash, trying out a new technique you saw someone else do, maybe executing an artistic concept you dreamed of at 3am. And with these latter, newer concerns on your mind, when you view the pictures later, these are the things you may or may not have got right. Those are the new benchmarks by which you judge the success or failure of the shoot.

Ars est celare artem

    And the higher up you go, the more theoretical they become. For the really good photographers, the 'rules' count for less and less. Some of the greatest pictures can look, at first glance, almost like amateur snapshots. They look easy. There's no apparent art or style. No obvious framing or clean backgrounds. But these images have real power, and this apparent effortlessness reveals a depth of skill and knowledge so inherent that the camera is nothing more than a basic tool - the photographer is attuned to the moment and the subject.
    The Latin quotation above (sometimes incorrectly attributed to Ovid) loosely translates as "Art is the concealment of art", or "Art hides itself". The idea is that the truest art lacks overt ingenuity or self-conscious craftsmanship. It doesn't seem to present itself as art - until you look closer. It follows that you need to be at a certain 'level' to see it, let alone appreciate it... like the Emperor's new clothes..?



*It may even be tied in to a denial as to the usefulness or value of the subject itself. On contacting a company offering my photographic services, I was rebuffed with, "We've just bought a camera, so I don't think we'll need a photographer." For them - and many others - it is the camera that takes the pictures, and not the photographer. Therefore good photography is all about the cost of the camera. For me, this is an entirely ignorant (and insulting) position.

**Of course, there is an overlap between each of the stages, even perhaps being at an advanced level in some areas of a subject, but unskilled in others. I'm terrible at sports photography. I know nothing about underwater photography. And some photographers' work is so consistently good as to make me feel like a complete beginner even in my field.  But I would point out that, personally, I quite like the fact that I find some days easy, others difficult.
  Also, ability in some areas can actually make development in others more difficult as the mind becomes fixed, set along certain ways of thinking and doing. A fine-art photographer might be an unsuccessful press photographer - just as a ballet-dancer may struggle to learn breakdancing. Certainly I myself felt I'd forgotten how to take pictures when I started out as a press photographer. I could only see that style of shooting, and felt as if I had relinquished or 'unlearned' my own style.

*** Of course I'm just making a point. Everything you do is a necessary step towards improvement; it's unhelpful to judge oneself too harshly when starting out! As Henri Cartier-Bresson said, "Your first 10,000 photographs are your worst."