Have You Considered the “Effort Heuristic” in Photography?
If you don’t know what it is, this may help you understand how it works.
(This article has previously been published on my Substack. I think it is important, so I am publishing it here as well.)
Andrew.
Andrew is a landscape photographer from a small town in the Midwest. He grew up poor and didn’t get a good camera until his college graduation. While in his younger years, he photographed with various hand-me-down cameras, it was all books, books, books for Andrew.
He had promised his father that he would take over the family business, and he wanted to be ready.
And his father rewarded him with a nearly new Hasselblad and two lenses.
Good life. Married, two kids, home with an extra building that he converted into a darkroom, and began a lifelong love of photography.
A love that extended past just the hobbyist level.
Andrew would take a few weeks off every year, and head to somewhere he hadn’t been before. Camera in hand, he would hunt down the elusive photo that he knew lived in every new place.
He was ready to conquer; his weapon of choice was an old Hasselblad 500CM, and a 50MM lens.
On a solo hike through the badlands of Death Valley, he awoke to a spectacular sky of stars. They seemed so close and so clear, as though they were some sort of projection on a huge screen in front of him.
He scrambled up to the top of one of the small mountains, in the dark, with only a headlamp, his camera, and one roll of film. He had twelve shots to make the image he was seeing in his mind, and a complex set of exposure decisions as well.
He reached the top as the desert winds began to swirl around, bringing a new challenge, and a deep, bone-chilling cold.
He looked at the valley below, the mountains to the west, and the magnificent sky.
As he began to get the camera out, he saw a car enter the road from the north. With his 50MM lens, he would have to wait it out for a couple of minutes to get that truck’s headlights and taillights streaking down the road.
He began calculating exposures and realized he would have to do a bracket — or two — to get a chance at making the shot work.
Finally, the truck entered the point of the composition, and to his amazement, it stopped. The headlights threw a soft glow before it, and the taillights gave the truck a soft, defining edge. The door opened, and now the truck had been rendered as a silhouette in the desert below.
Andrew began his well-rehearsed routine. He had mere moments to get that truck, the light, and the right background, sky, and foreground to make the image something to see. He was very excited.
It was. He won several competitions and was able to sell a few hundred prints at a respectable fee.
Hand printed on satin paper, the black-and-white, selenium-toned image seemed to have a depth rarely seen in a photographic print.
Peter.
Peter was born in Baton Rouge and was a motorcycle writer for many respected motorcycle magazines.
One evening, he was finishing up after writing about a dirtbike competition in western Nevada and decided to take the road through Death Valley to get back to Vegas. He had an early flight, and saving an hour or two was going to be a lifesaver for him.
It was early in the morning when he turned on to 190 going south.
The sky was magnificent, and the stars showed so brightly they seemed to light up the desert with a sort of magical luminescence. At one point, he stopped along the side of the road to, umm… well, he had several sodas before he left, so he, you know, had to stop for a moment.
He grabbed his iPhone and snapped a shot going west to capture the stars and the barely lit Panamints at the base of that glorious sky.
He looked at it for a moment after getting back in the truck, and it looked good.
He was very excited.
He posted his photo on Instagram and eventually got over 30,000 likes. For an iPhone, it was not a bad shot at all. In fact, it was a pretty good photograph all on its own.
Peter never had a chance to sell the image, and no one asked for a print, but it was always one of his favorites.
(These are fictitious, of course, so you have to use your imagination to see the images.)
The Effort Heuristic in Photography: A Tale of Two Photographers
Oftentimes in photography, the journey behind the shot often remains untold, hidden behind the stillness of the captured image.
Yet, the story of how a photograph comes to be can deeply influence our appreciation and valuation of it. This phenomenon, rooted in what psychologists call the “effort heuristic,” suggests that the perceived effort and skill behind creation can significantly impact our perception of its value.
Through the experience of two photographers, Andrew and Peter, we see this concept vividly come to life.
Andrew: The Journey of Effort
Andrew’s story is one of dedication, sacrifice, and relentless pursuit.
Andrew’s journey has been characterized by years of self-education and anticipation before even holding a high-quality camera. He grew up with limited resources but a rich passion for photography.
His annual pilgrimages in search of the elusive “perfect shot” speak to profound commitment.
Not just to photography, but to the art of seeing.
His trek through Death Valley, battling the elements with a single roll of film and a vintage Hasselblad, epitomizes the pinnacle of effortful artistry.
The result isn’t merely a photograph; it’s a battle against — and in harmony with — nature, a challenge of light, timing, and technical precision.
The resulting image, meticulously developed in his home darkroom, carries the weight of this journey, imbued with a tremendous depth and a story that resonates far beyond its visual appeal.
Peter: The Instantaneous Artistry
Peter’s narrative offers a stark contrast.
He made an impromptu stop in Death Valley out of necessity rather than artistic pursuit, and as a result, his iPhone captured a lucky moment.
The resulting image, despite being the product of a momentary impulse, garners significant attention online. Peter’s photograph, while lacking the premeditation and physical effort of Andrew’s, still captures a beauty that resonates with thousands.
The instantaneity of Peter’s shot and its broad appreciation underscore the democratization of photography in our digital age.
Here, artistry is not confined to the laborious processes of film but is accessible to anyone with a vision and a smartphone.
The effort heuristic is a psychological bias where people value something more if they perceive that more effort was put into acquiring it. Research has shown that people tend to value products, such as poems and paintings, more highly if they believe more time and effort went into creating them.
Which one do you think is more valuable?
Not just from a “sharing” or “following” position, but from your gut reaction?
I would love to have a print of Andrew’s amazing photograph, and I would very much like to see what Peter shot that early morning rest stop moment.
The Effort Heuristic at Play
The differing public and personal valuations of Andrew and Peter’s photographs illustrate the effort heuristic in action.
Those who are aware of Andrew’s background are likely to regard his image, which is a testament to his talent, dedication, and physical effort, more highly.
The physicality of his process, from the challenging trek to the darkroom development, adds layers of value to the photograph beyond its basic aesthetic appeal.
Conversely, Peter’s work, while visually captivating and popular, may not command the same depth of appreciation from photography purists or those who value the traditional craft.
Yet, its widespread acclaim highlights the shifting paradigms of value in the digital age, where immediacy and accessibility often dictate popularity.
The Intersection of Effort, Artistry, and Appreciation
This tale of two photographers invites us to ponder the essence of photography as an art form. Is it the visible outcome or the invisible journey that defines the value of a photograph? Andrew and Peter’s stories suggest that both narratives have their place in the landscape of photography.
The effort heuristic teaches us that understanding the journey behind the image can enhance our appreciation, adding a dimension of depth and connection that transcends the visual.
I think it is an interesting thing to keep in mind.
We all sorta know this inside, but it is indeed important to see this explained clearly and openly.
Think about your own work. Are there stories behind them?
Hi, I’m Don Giannatti, a photographer and mentor for up-and-coming photographers. You can find me on my website, Don Giannatti, and at my Substack site, where I also publish for creative people. All subscribers to my Substack have access to a free, long-form workshop on the business of commercial and professional photography.
