When I was given the chance to work on a feature with the iconic photographer and filmmaker Norman Seeff, I was both excited and apprehensive. With his immense reputation in the creative world, I anticipated a truly unique experience. Yet, being no stranger to interviewing a diverse range of personalities, I understood that each interaction brings its own unpredictable nature. Some effortlessly reveal hidden gems, while others demand a significant pursuit to extract meaningful content worthy of publication. Nevertheless, my time spent with Seeff was a standout moment of my career. His depth of insight and willingness to be vulnerable during our discussions left a lasting impact on me, making him one of the most beautiful minds I’ve had the opportunity to delve into. As someone who explores the facets of human creativity, I was not taken aback by his intellect, but rather by his ability to connect with me on a profound and empathetic level. Amidst the chaos of LA, such authentic connections are a rare treasure, and I am incredibly grateful to have found one here.
Upon initiating the dialogue and outlining the structure of the interview, Seeff promptly asserted that his approach is characterized by spontaneity, encompassing the full spectrum of experiences encountered by artists when they take the stage, including the element of risk. He emphasized the possibility of either faltering or reaching a state of transcendence, with no limitations to our conversation. According to Seeff, the key to the artistic process lies in courageously stepping into the unknown, as treading familiar paths only yields a repetition of the past. In all his sessions, he seeks to establish a space of mutual exploration and openness, avoiding control in favor of fostering emotional growth and empowerment.
Both Seeff and I share a strong interest in the equilibrium of masculine and feminine energies, regardless of gender. He clarified that the creative process is sparked by feminine energy, stemming from imagination and emotion. These qualities lay the foundation for creativity to blossom. The masculine aspect, the action, follows as the force that brings these emotions into tangible form.
Just like he does with the subjects he photographs, Seeff displayed a sincere interest in understanding my background and identity to establish a deeper bond prior to our conversation. Encouraged by his guidance, I, embodying feminine energy, led the exchange forward, wearing my heart on my sleeve without a second thought. The outcome? Luminous intent and one hell of an interview. Plus, it certainly didn’t hurt that he fed into my praise kink.
Can you elaborate on the concept that photography relies more on one’s observation tools rather than the actual camera? How does your lens shape your view of the world? That’s a beautiful question. I can shoot with an old Kodak camera because it’s all about the emotional experience in the moment and the authenticity of it. I’ve got a good eye, and I have had many careers, as you know. I think that if your work has an emotional impact and people look at it and they feel like through your eyes, they are experiencing what you are experiencing, then you are connecting your perception to their perception. For me, that is the definition of creativity. Anything that we do that creates new perception in people and the viewer gets emotionality out of it, we are then having a creative conversation. You’re exactly right. It’s not about the technology. The technology is good because you want to have fidelity, but the core of it starts with the emotional authenticity of the moment.
Are there any lesser-known stories or experiences from your photography sessions that have not been widely shared, but you believe are important to understanding your artistic journey and evolution as a photographer? I don’t talk about artists because one of the key things is to create an environment where the artist feels safe and protected. But there are ideal sessions that I can describe. At one point, there was a magazine in Japan that was sort of like an early version of Rolling Stone. I had a column there for five or six years. Basically, after every session I did, I told a story about it from the point of view of the creative process, not about the person. When you work with the greats, like a Ray Charles or a Tina Turner, you discover why they are the way they are, and my overall sense in sharing is that those artists have the balance of the emotional side with the side that takes action on the creation. There is the creation that is not tangible yet, as it happens inside consciousness. So, you imagine something, and you feel it and you can see it in your imagination, but you have to then absolutely take action. It’s sort of a world act then where you sort of step out and turn something that was a creation in the mind to a manifestation in the physical reality. You have to do it. It’s not enough to be creative and to be emotionally in the flow with something. You now have to be willing to be courageous enough to put your work out and risk people’s judgements.
”True creators must have this absolute, unwavering adherence to the face that they want to authentically connect in an honest way with someone.”
In today’s digital age where almost everyone has access to a camera, what are the biggest challenges you face as a photographer when it comes to standing out and maintaining your unique artistic voice? There is a level of genuine mastery and artistry, and then there is mediocrity. Mediocrity is easy to do. If you have a device that provides a set of tools, you can make billboards, you can write books, design, but it’s cookie-cutter stuff. And it’s not bad because it gives a lot of people the opportunity to play, but they don’t fit into the very rarified level of what I would call boundary dweller creators. These are the artists who live on the boundary between the old and the new. They are willing to go across the threshold of safety and into the unknown to try and find something they don’t know rather than just repeat what they do know. The great creators like Michelangelo, Leonardo da Vinci, and current artists in that realm of art, have an amazing integrity about their work. They will not let something out if it doesn’t ring true. The medium, the tool, is irrelevant then. AI for example, is not good or bad. It’s neutral. It is about how we use it. It all goes back to your first question about how the artist observes a moment or an interaction with another person. The true artist takes the technology, which is just a skill, and adds something of their soul into it. Their soul is a very real aspect of consciousness. The soul is the individuated self. When you put your soul into it and other people look at your work and can feel you and the experience you had in a specific moment, that is where the magic is. True creators must have this absolute, unwavering adherence to the fact that they want to authentically connect in an honest way with someone.
I really appreciate your insight on embracing the unfamiliar to grow, rather than sticking to what is already known. The fear of criticism and uncertainty often hinders creativity and growth. Many of us, myself included, can be intimidated by the uncertainty ahead. You can be safe, or you could push your own boundaries. I’m not a photographer. I am a person who uses the vehicle of photography to do what I do. I am an explorer of the unknown on the journey of creativity and how that relates to why people create their personal stories. I decided that the best way to do what I love to do—explore the evolution of consciousness—is through photography. Really what I do though, is have incredible people in a room with me for three to four hours and explore creativity with them. I started filming my sessions a couple of decades ago and now I have an archive of 500 film sessions with major artists. This body of work is the largest archive of artists in the act of spontaneous creation out there and we are about to bring out an ongoing series called, The Power and Passion to Create. It will be up on our web channel by the end of the year and hopefully, up on the broadcast and streaming arenas by December of next year.
Wow, all the creations and experiences from your sessions will be released to the public. That’s truly amazing. Yes. It’s going to be made public because these sessions provide a map for people to get to their destination. It’s very empowering to give people tools, especially as we are in a world of chaos right now. It may have been Picasso, I don’t know, but he said, “Every act of creation is an act of destruction.” What he means, and I’m sure you know this, is that you must clear the old stuff out of the way to do something new. The true artists are always clearing out what they’ve done in the past to have a clean slate or canvas. They want to create something new and when you step into the unknown, it’s scary. The first stage of this seven-stage dynamic of the creative process that I’ve been developing is much like the artists’ journeys. There is a creative journey where you can define the stepping stones from an idea or a dream to the fulfillment of that idea or dream. The second stage is what I like to call the “oh shit stage.” It’s that feeling of oh my God, how am I going to do this? Is it a stupid idea? Is it too far ahead for the public? Will I lose my career or my family? Am I good enough? It’s all based around fear. Fear, like every emotion, has a duality. On one side, it’s a neurotic fear that will paralyze you. On the other side, the fear serves as a guiding system, like a compass that tells you where to go. If you’re an artist and you’re scared to go there, it’s probably where you’ll find something new. You want to use your fear as a guiding system, not a means to withdrawal or run. Every artist has this duality of this incredible passionate vision for where they want to go, and they’re scared at the same time.
I strongly resonate with your portrayal of the duality of fear. I am in the process of writing a book and have experienced both the paralyzing and inspiring aspects of fear, with the former dominating recently. That is beautiful and I realize now that you are right on course. Your questions are very astute, and it has been such a pleasure talking with you.
How did you navigate the fine line between pushing boundaries to capture authentic moments and respecting the boundaries of your subjects, particularly in the early stages of experimentation such as when throwing a pie at Frank Zappa or dousing John Travolta with a bucket of water? That’s an absolute beautiful question and you absolutely should be writing a book. There is a learning curve here. I came from the world of medicine and science that said to not get involved with your patients emotionally because you won’t be objective. So, most doctors at that point were emotional retards. They didn’t know how to communicate, and they didn’t understand the pain or the love these people needed. The love is really the medicine. Anyway, ever since childhood, I could draw very well, and I had the skillset of communicating at that same level of mastery. In my creative work, I wanted to push boundaries, so I started to figure out what those boundaries were. This was all part of a learning stage. I’ll tell you a story. I was like six feet away from Frank Zappa, two alpha males in one room. I said, “Okay, Frank, how far are you willing to go?” He kind of sneered at me and said, “You just try me.” So, someone hit him in the face with a pie. He was enraged because they got cream in his ear. There was cream running all down the side of his face and I go, click, click, click, and we got some great shots. But it was not respecting someone’s boundaries in the sense of making it collaborative. It was a manipulative way of doing something. I realized that it didn’t work, and I apologized. I learned in my own way that it wasn’t the way to go. Travolta is an actor and in acting school, he learned that whatever the director said, he did. So, he allowed us to do it, and I got some beautiful shots. All of this was a phase of trial and error, mostly error. I realized that you mustcreate an environment of safety, security, collaboration, and trust. If you don’t create that environment, the artist is always feeling threatened. The art form for me became not about photography, but about the dynamics of how you create integrated, trusting, but at the same time and the appropriate time, challenging relationships. You don’t start challenging the artist’s boundaries right when they walk into the room because then they feel attacked. As a director, in natural conversation, I would explain what I was doing and ensured I wouldn’t do anything manipulative. I also let them know that I felt frightened and nervous because that provides a mutual vulnerability and intimacy. It starts with being vulnerable and to get them to let down their defenses, I had to be the first one to do it. It was tough because I had all this male chauvinistic crap tied to my emotions. I thought, well if you’re frightened, it means you’re a wimp. It means that you shouldn’t be doing this, that you’re incompetent. I had judgments about emotions, and it took me almost five years of intense inner work around emotions to get to a place where I didn’t feel ashamed of feeling frightened or feeling a sense of self-doubt. I realized these are all powerful emotions that provide direction to where you want to go. They are absolutely critical. If you don’t deal with your emotions though, you cannot connect with other people, and if the artist doesn’t function from emotion, they cannot connect with their audience.
In retrospect, how did your willingness to take risks with these daring methods impact your connection with your subjects and the overall result of the photographs? Once they felt they could trust me and understood that I was willing to be visible to them—I also understood the defensiveness of the artist because often, people project onto them. But my first stage was to show them who I was, that I was a human being and had a set of values that ensured I would never consciously try to hurt or manipulate anyone. I always get good shots because I have a good eye, but the real shots are when the artist is pushing boundaries. There is a passion and a power to create beyond competency or skillset to innovate moments they haven’t gone to. If you get to the point where you go from the zone, which is the comfort zone, and you’re all feeling good and having a happy time—happy just means safe. Joy, how- ever, means going beyond safety and into that ecstatic moment. When I get into that ecstatic moment, I get shots that people can put up and never get tired of because there is a resonance of that energy in the photograph.
Shifting the focus now. What was your initial reaction upon entering the Apple office, and how did the anti-corporate atmosphere influence your creative process during the iconic photoshoot with Steve Jobs in 1984? What was unusual about this session was that it wasn’t a corporate environment like you’d expect. When I walked in, there were some people walking barefoot, women carrying babies, a couple of people skating down the passageway. It was like this hippie community in a business environment. They were all innovative initiators of a dream future, so it was just one of the most enjoyable and connected sessions. Once I started working with Steve, our conversation focused on creativity, and I just had a great time.
“I’m not a photographer. I am a person who uses the vehicle of photography to do what I do. I am an explorer of the unknown on the journey of creativity and how that relates to why people create their personal stories. I decided that the best way to do what I love to do— explore the evolution of consciousness—is through photography.”
In a previous part of our discussion, you noted that you typically avoid entering any situation with preconceived expectations. However, I am inclined to believe that every artist always harbors some level of expectation, whether they are aware of it or not, that guides their creative process. With that being said, I am interested to know if you had any initial expectations before photographing Whitney Houston in 1990 and how they may have evolved as you developed a deeper connection with her. Let me separate being open to the flow and expectation. Expectation, as you say, is critical. Expectation is a future vision of the outcome. There are both negative expectations and positive expectations. In the work that I do, expectation is a frequency and an energy. It is a powerful, powerful tool that you use. So, yes, I do always go in with a vision that I see, but it is how I get there that is more fluid. I don’t have a preconception of what I’m specifically going to do. As I meet the person, I must adapt to them. While there is an expectation, the goal is to be open to the spontaneity of the moment. Whitney was the most kind and delightful person. It was a shock to see the shifts in her consciousness that weren’t even close to anything I had ever experienced. When I met her, she was one of the sweetest, most open and caring artists I had ever worked with.
How has your perspective on life and humanity evolved through the years of observing and documenting the people around you? What’s going on in my other work is about how we learn to communicate with each other in an integrated way where we can hear each other and not project onto each other. Right now, what’s happening in the world is a lot of projection and revenge. But what I learned is that communication is about the function, meaning how we get to like each other, how we learn to love each other, how we get to be creative together. It’s about the function, not the form. If you function by connecting emotionally with someone, you’re going to get beautiful and authentic images. I’m looking at how I can improve my skill of not judging, not projecting, and not separating. I am on a journey of how I can expand my awareness and ability. When I work with artists who are at the higher reaches of creativity and human potential, the underlining message is that everyone is writing their own story. Everyone is the author of their own life. As a result, the artists are showing me that I am also the author of my own work. The message I want to share with the world now is that if you don’t like your story, change it. If you don’t like the third act, change the third act and change your cast of people around you, the ones who don’t love or respect you. Fire them and hire new actors. It’s a message about empowering people to empower themselves, which is also the theme of my film series. I want to connect in the most authentic way and what I’ve found is that if I am vulnerable and emotionally real, that is the magic key to opening the door to an intimate relationship.
What kind of legacy do you hope to leave behind in the photography world, and what valuable advice do you have for aspiring photographers looking to make their mark in the industry? To me, a true legacy is about what I learned and how much I used my awareness to bring about an impact in the world that increased our connection and sense of value for one other. I have to had experienced the journey, otherwise my map becomes philosophy or abstraction. When I was a kid in school, they didn’t teach me life skills. I hated school because it was just learning a bunch of random things. I always wanted to create a legacy of understanding for people to know that everyone has the same inner resources of creative ability. No one has something you don’t have. If you learn to accessyour own tools, resources, and the imagination of your emotions, you can be creative. So really, in a certain way, the legacy would be that I lived a life that was authentic, honest, and real, and out of that, I inspired change. It’s nice to have accomplishment, but that is not the legacy I see. I want people to say that when they were with me, they felt seen, they felt loved, and they felt respected.
