Yesterday was Dr. Hermann Rorschach's birthday. That's right, the one who created the inkblot test. Born on November 8, 1884, he developed what probably has become one of the most controversial instruments in the history of Psychodiagnostic Assessment. I had always thought he must have been a crusty old man when he developed the test, but was surprised to learn that he died in his 30's. And when I finally obtained a copy of his original text, I was shocked to see a picture of him: A youthful, rakish and quite handsome man who could be convincingly played in a movie by Brad Pitt. Who would have thought? It turns out he was an interesting and creative person, an artist and a painter, and it is clear that these interests informed his work as a psychiatrist.
When I was first introduced to the Rorschach Inkblot Test as a second year graduate student in psychology in 1986, I was quite skeptical about it usefulness. But over the course of a year-long class, with the assistance of a marvelous teacher and mentor, I began to understand its potential, when used intelligently in the context of a person's history and a fully battery of other tests. I will always remember how excited I felt about learning, and how surprised I was that I was so captivated by the Rorschach and other assessment instruments. Over the years, with further education, training, supervision and clinical experience, I have developed an even deeper appreciation for Rorschach's test. And when it came to pass that I began to teach psychology graduate students about psychodiagnostic assessment myself, it was the instrument that I loved teaching the most.
I remember, though, how overwhelming it all was in the beginning. The system of administration, scoring and interpretation seemed so complex: A sea of detailed instructions, scores, codes, derivations and ratios. D scores, Color Shading Blends, Affective Ratios, form quality, S-CON, CDI, ALOG, FABCOM: It was a whole new language. I was so in awe of my instructors and supervisors, I didn't imagine that I could ever learn it all. And yet, over time, while I won't say that I have learned "it all" by any stretch of the imagination, I have learned and internalized a lot, and now can look at a summary of all those ratios and percentages and numbers and not only not be overwhelmed, but feel that the data may make sense.
I always remembered this when I was teaching. Students would be overwhelmed and often try to imbue me with some sort of special capacity because it seemed to them that I understood it all effortlessly. (And I had felt this way with my own teachers, as well). And I would remind them that I was once where they were. That all learning is a matter of doing, over and over and over again. That in time, with repetition, with study and experience, they would develop an understanding, a feel for it, as well.
So having developed a certain level of competence in my own field, I now find myself a student once again, in my career as a photographer. And it is humbling. I recently began reading Joe McNally's book, The Hot Shoe Diaries. Or I should say, trying to read it. It is a beautiful book about light, lighting, photography, and is an inspiring and educational look into the thinking of a first-rate photographer. On pages 6 and 7 he has a photo of all his equipment. I recognize the camera, lenses, battery packs, even his leatherman tool and sharpies. But the rest of it - the sea of lights, filters, diffusers, clamps, stands, light shapers...Well, it's just overwhelming. A Justin Clamp? An SB-800? An SC-29 cord? An 80-20 attachment? FV lock, I-TTL and rear versus front curtain? Yowza. And I am back again, feeling as I did as a student, looking at my first Rorschach responses, and worrying that I will never even learn to speak the language, let alone understand it all.
So what's with the flower picture? Well, I am sure that this orchid has a botanical name, but I don't know what it is. I only know that when I saw it, it reminded me of an inkblot (not to mention quite a sweet little face - I mean, look at that little nose, the mouth, the eyes...) And so I named it, "Rorschach's Orchid" to honor the creativity of an amazing young man so many years ago, and to acknowledge a part of my other professional life that means so much to me.
This botanical portrait reminds me about artistic and scientific creativity. It reminds me of humbling lessons about teaching and learning. It reminds me that, one day, I may really understand what a "hot shoe" is and perhaps even be able to use it to improve my images. In a strangely reassuring way, Rorschach's Orchid reminds me that it is developmentally appropriate that I now sometimes feel so overwhelmed. Because while I have been living and working with inkblots for the past 23 years, I only have been developing my formal relationship with pixels and light for a much shorter time. I am on a new journey to develop skills in this new field. I know I won't ever be a Joe McNally. But with each book or article I read, with each conference or seminar I attend, with each photographer and artist I learn from, and with each image I make, I know that I am growing and developing as a competent and creative photographer. And I am reminded of the excitement I felt when I first began to understand the complexities and power of Dr. Rorschach's test. Stephanie
