James J. Robinson works across image and film with a deeply observational approach to storytelling. In this conversation, he reflects on perception, creative discipline, and the importance of subjectivity in his practice exploring how curiosity, environment, and stillness shape the way he sees and creates.
Your work often evokes a very particular mood or energy. How do you tune into that sensitivity, and what do you do to protect it?
One of my favourite artists is Andrei Tarkovsky, and in his book Sculpting in Time he talks about poetry not as a literal literary form, but as a way of seeing the world. I suppose, if I had to explain it, it’s about maintaining a curiosity to look deeper and more intentionally at things, to stay in a constant state of searching for truth. My work has always been an attempt to find that truth.
While my photography is stylised, it might not seem like direct objectivity, but you learn quite early on that objectivity doesn’t really exist. We’re all seeing the world through our own filters. So subjectivity, to me, feels more truthful. These moods I’m working with are visual representations of emotional experiences - whether it’s a celebrity or a friend, I’m applying the same lens of poetry to everything I encounter.
Outside of work, what shapes your perspective the most - people, environment, routine, or something less tangible?
I need to constantly be in new environments, I find it difficult to stay in one place too long. I suppose that’s because I’m a naturally inquisitive person and love to meet people outside of my demographics and spheres, and in those interactions I feel drawn closer to myself. It probably sounds masochistic but I’m obsessed with ripping out my pillars of identity, like my home, my friends, my routines, and seeing who exists after. I don’t know, maybe I need more therapy as to why I can’t stay in one place at a time!
What’s one small, daily practice completely unrelated to work that actually shapes how you show up creatively, and why does it matter to you?
I love to cook and bake, and to be honest I get more of my writing done in my head when I’m cooking than when I’m sitting at a computer trying to come up with things. I’ve transitioned more into feature films the past few years than photography and a major part of that has been forming a creative practice around writing screenplays.
For ages I’d just be stuck sitting at my computer, but instead I’ve found when my mind was distracted and doing something that requires presence, the ideas come more naturally. Now most of my days I’m cooking, or out at a party having a dance, going on a hike, and I’ll dedicate one day to writing where I try out all these ideas that came to me, and I get more work done in one day than if I spent the whole week forcing it.
In an industry that demands constant output, how do you pace your energy sustainably, and are there small rituals, habits, or moments of pause that help you maintain that balance?
Honestly we’ve grown up in the social media era where, as you say, creativity is associated with constant output. The platforms where we share our work give you more engagement you the more you create. I fell into this trap when I was younger and forced myself to always always be shooting, but I’m less interested now in temporary relevance and snappy viral creativity in favour of building an actual legacy of thoughtful, intentional work. And the truth is that kind of work mostly takes time, there’s no cutting corners when it comes to matters of the soul. So I suppose I pace myself by just not engaging at all anymore with this relevance economy. Don’t let Big Tech monetise your creative practice.
If you had to spend a week completely disconnected, no tools, screens, or work, how would you reconnect with yourself and your creativity?
I make an effort to do a period of time every year where I’m disconnected from everything. Sometimes I get very into it and can go weeks, and other times it’s a pain to get through a day. But I practice qi gong, go on walks. And do as I mentioned earlier, just approach everything with curiosity when I have the time. How was the material on my wallet weaved? Why was this sidewalk designed this way? What type of bird is that? Why the hell is that baby staring at me? It’s nice to have the time to be inquisitive. We have these brains engineered over hundreds of thousands of years for digestible amounts of stimuli and now we live in cities where there’s just so much happening all the time that we need to filter so much out. It’s nice to let those filters go a bit and actually be curious about the amount of things we come across.
Check out James' work at https://jamespdf.com/
Photo credit: Gabrielle Pearson.