Truth and Creative Expression
October 12, 2025
Recently I read On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft, a book by Stephen King about how to write effectively. The line that most stood out to me was, “write about anything you want as long as you tell the truth.” King urges writers to be as direct as possible, omit unnecessary words, and never dress up language. “Don’t come to the page lightly,” he says. He writes fiction, so when he talks about being truthful, he is not saying to only describe factual events. I think he is talking more about approaching the work with integrity, and to avoid getting overly cute with it or striving to impress others. Don’t hide behind gimmicks. Don’t dance around what you are trying to say. Just say it. Put your finger right on it. I have been trying to implement these suggestions while writing my own book, and this got me thinking about how important truthfulness is in any creative endeavor.
The most compelling art gives expression to something that is real and true, whether about the external world, an internal experience, or both. It is born out of something the artist found moving, and in turn moves something in the reader/viewer/listener. The work need not be a literal representation of anything, but it must truthfully connect in one way or another to what is alive in the creator.
In landscape photography, I see a lot of work that seems to mostly be about seeking attention. It feels unsubstantial, and I often question whether the photographer even knew why they were shooting the photo or what they were trying to convey with it, perhaps other than, “Look at me! Aren’t I cute and pretty? Please tell me this is impressive!” This type of work tends to rely on high saturation and contrast along with bullshit foreground elements that don’t really fit with the rest of the scene, in locations that have already been heavily photographed by others.
This is a bullshit photo I shot in 2018. Even ignoring the mediocre light without much tonal separation, the rock formation in the center isn’t substantial or interesting enough to be holding this position. The foreground framing isn't terrible, but my composition tries to make the rock formation in the center into something more than it is. I shot this scene as I would a mountain scene, but the elements of the scene don’t call for it.
The landscape photography that speaks to me tends to utilize precise tonal separation and color separation, with the elements of the scene interacting with each other in interesting, harmonious ways. More and more I find myself drawn away from colorful sunrises and sunsets, a bit closer to the middle of the day when stronger light is scattered through gaps in the clouds, articulating certain parts of the landscape. But aside from technical considerations such as these, compelling photography enlivens something in the viewer by pointing to truth. Examples include the work of Vittorio Sella, Guy Tal, Floris van Breugel, and Hans Strand. I sense an honesty in pretty much every single image of theirs, subtle but unwavering.
Truth has a resonance in the body. It is a single precise gesture. It doesn't hide or shrink away, nor does it try to take up extra space. It just is— nothing more, nothing less. Existence without pretense. The most moving creative work is an expression of this.
Creative integrity is an extension of how we live. Making honest art meets less resistance when we are actually embodying and honoring truth in all areas of our lives, by saying what we mean, doing what we say, not hiding from any parts of ourselves, and organizing our precious time around what is most important to us. Much easier said than done of course, but as a result, truth won’t be able to help but shine through in what we create.
A friend recently asked me why integrity and follow-through are so important to me. I replied that if I don’t do what I say pretty much 100% of the time then I won’t be able to trust myself, and similarly, if other people don’t follow through on what they say, it makes them unreliable and undermines our connection. My friend, being trained as a therapist and relationship coach, pushed the point as she could tell there was more beneath this answer. It became more clear to me that my fixation on integrity in myself and others was based at least partially in difficult experiences growing up where I felt deeply hurt and betrayed. I’ve also felt a dire need to fight against the inertia of self-alienation produced both by circumstances growing up and society at large, being terrified of losing connection with myself, falling into a habit of bad faith, and pissing my life away. Strong emotional reactions to such a simple question from my friend! Upon further reflection, I still view integrity to be very important in living joyfully, actualizing the things I care about, being able to have strong relationships, being discerning about who I want to be close with, and doing meaningful photography and writing. However, I have more work to do to transform what lies in the way of embodying what is true in me with more ease and stillness, where I’m able to settle into it without as much force required to sustain it, and perhaps feel less personal indignation when others operate differently (although living with a high degree of integrity and authenticity in a world that so actively undermines it may inherently some amount of force).