187 ☼ What Jazz, Paint, and Hip Hop Teach Me About Chaos
+ camera giveaway with Lomography
Dear friends,
This week’s is about inspiration: where I’ve been finding it, how I’ve come to realize it’s all connected, and what that’s starting to mean for my work.
I finally saw the link between the three creative movements that have inspired me for years: hard-bop jazz, post-war abstract painting, and 90s New York hip hop. They might seem unrelated, but I’ve come to see them as different expressions of the same instinct, and that realization is shaping how I’m thinking about my work.
Also:
A Lomography camera giveaway!
Recap Photos from this week’s The Good Word and Creatives In/AMS launch party
An open call for photo assistants (or people who’d like to become one) as we build something useful for the community
Making Sense Without Needing to Understand
This week, I want to share something that recently clicked into place for me. I realized that the three creative forces that most consistently inspired me—1950s hard-bop jazz, post-war abstract expressionist painting, and 1990s New York hip hop—are not as separate as they seem. In fact, they're versions of the same impulse. And the more the world feels unpredictable and absurd, the more I return to them. Some reflections on how they help me stay grounded and keep making.
For most of my life, I thought of art I loved as placed on completely separate shelves: music here, painting there, photography over there. But the older I get, the more I notice the threads tying everything together.
A Hipster Moment, and a Realization
The other day, I was looking through some of my favorite Serge Vandercam paintings (see above) while Coltrane’s Blue Train played in the background. I know that sounds like an incredibly on-the-nose hipster moment, and thank goodness I wasn’t also drinking a single-origin pour-over while writing in a Moleskine notebook.
First, I realized both the album and the drawings were from 1958, and then other things started clicking. The colors, the sounds, the rhythm of both, it all felt like one language. Different tools, same urgency. Both situated in the cultural and psychological aftermath of World War II, yet pre-counterculture.
It was a moment where artists were trying to rebuild meaning after a violent, sudden, and dramatic period of upheaval and change. They did so, not by returning to the past, but by breaking through the walls of tradition toward something more alive and more direct. The idea was also that more alive meant more human.
Coltrane’s 1950s hard-bop recordings are volcanic. Structured, yet free. Emotional, yet precise. Listening to him solo is like watching someone think out loud, chasing a truth just out of reach. And that feels like a familiar mode to me.
Similarly, painters like Serge Vandercam, Christian Dotremont, and Karel Appel threw ink and color and gesture at their canvas or paper, often with great movement and driven by instinct. They weren’t decorating. They were trying to stay sane. Or honest. Or both.
As I started to make sense of this, I tried to see if some of my other beloved artistic movements and eras fit into this shape. The soundtrack of my teenage years: 80s and 90s NYC hip hop. Nas. Public Enemy. Gang Starr. Wu-Tang. Not just songs, but street philosophy set to a collage of rhythmic elements, often surging and protesting and pushing and improvising.
Art Born From Disruption
All three forms were born out of disruption. Post-war Europe. The Post–Civil Rights / Mass Incarceration / War on Drugs era in New York City. Art made from fracture. Expressionism, improvisation, and collage as ways to survive chaos by turning it into rhythm.
The fact that I’ve been drifting back to these movements and forms of expression, in the currently far-too-interesting times we’re living in, makes sense. The world feels increasingly disjointed. Changes are coming fast, and often in ways that feel unpredictable or even unhinged.
I don’t return to these works for comfort. I return to them for grounding. They remind me that confusion and absurdity aren’t barriers to creativity, and that they can be the raw material for it. The art I love most was made by people who didn’t wait for clarity. They showed up in the mess and made something anyway.
I’m trying to do the same, in my own way.
Making Without a Map
That’s what I’ve been trying to do with NOTICE Journal, which came out of a personal period of rebuilding (see below).
Or with The Best Medicine, which began without a clear plan and slowly revealed itself to be a celebration of community, vulnerability, and laughter. It’s now becoming a community-focused art newspaper, out May 17th, with a launch presentation at De Balie (get your ticket here—more in next week’s issue).
There’s Creatives In/AMS, which started as a quiet urge to document creative life in the city, and will now be a year-long series of weekly photo essays, starting in September.
And 25 in 2025, a new portrait and interview project exploring how a generation shaped by the 2008 recession, COVID, and ongoing global conflicts is thinking about the future.
None of these projects began with a tidy roadmap. They started with instinct—with a rhythm I didn’t fully understand yet. But I’ve learned to trust that the meaning often shows up after the making.
A Question For You
What are the creative voices you return to when the world feels too loud? Who helps you turn the noise into rhythm?
Scroll down to the giveaway to answer this question—one of you will win a very cool Lomography camera for your answer.
Thanks for reading. If you enjoyed this issue, share it with a friend.
Let’s keep shooting, learning, and sharing together—one messy, human step at a time.
Warmly,
Wesley
NEXT WEEK: More details on The Best Medicine art newspaper and the May 17 release show at De Balie. Plus a look into my archive to talk about one of the most meaningful photos I’ve made, and why it still matters to me.
Housekeeping
Photography Assistant Database — I’m building a new database to connect people who want to assist with photographers looking for help on shoots. I’m starting with a few cities in Europe, but anyone—anywhere in the world—can fill out this Google form. Over 35 people have already signed up. If you're curious about assisting or want to build connections in the photography world, you're warmly invited to join. The database will be shared soon with photographers in need of reliable support.
The Best Medicine Launch Party — As mentioned above, The Best Medicine will be published as an art newspaper and we will celebrate this with a wonderful night of art and comedy at De Balie in Amsterdam on May 17th. I’d love for you to join us, grab your tickets here. Look at this dope poster Maxwell George designed!
The Good Word Launch Party — Below are a few images from this week’s launch party for The Good Word—a magazine I curated featuring 19 artists from Amsterdam for creative agency Preacher —and the Creatives In/AMS preview zine.
Below, three small previews from what will soon be a full recap gallery of the event, shot by Kelt. The full set, along with a beautiful video piece, will be released by Preacher soon and I will link to it in an upcoming issue of Process.
This Week’s Gear and Lab
Camera: Olympus Pen-F, Leica Q2
Shout out to MPB.com, my go-to for buying and selling used gear—they’re fantastic. Easy, fast, and everything comes with a 6-month warranty.
Lab: My film is processed and scanned by Carmencita Film Lab, whose care and consistency I fully trust. They’re the best as a lab and as humans. Use code “PROCESS” at checkout for a free upgrade on your next order.
Process x Lomography Giveaway
My friends at Lomography are partnering with Process for a special giveaway! One lucky subscriber will win the Lomomatic 110 Camera Golden Gate! It’s a beautifully-designed 110 format camera that fits in your pocket but delivers sharp, creative, nostalgic results with real glass optics.
How To Enter: Answer this week’s question in the comments:
Q: What artist, musician, or creator has helped you stay grounded in moments of disorder—and how?
Think about whose work helped you recalibrate or keep going during uncertain times. Make your answer personal, it’s always powerful to see what moves each of us.
For me, it’s Coltrane’s "Spiritual" on Live at the Village Vanguard—a recording that feels like a conversation with chaos and peace at the same time.
Deadline: Submit your comment by midnight EST on April 12. The winner will be chosen randomly and announced in an upcoming issue.
This giveaway is open to all Process subscribers, free or paid—thank you for reading and being part of this.
Support My Work and Elevate Yours
Enjoying Process? Support it by picking up a book or joining the Process Photo Club.
Process Workbook Volume One & Two: Creative prompts and assignments designed to get you out of your head and into action with your camera.
€8.99 each (free for Process Photo Club members)
NOTICE Journal, Volume One: A fresh perspective on beauty and rebirth, shot in Amsterdam.
€40 (or €20 for Process Photo Club members)
📚 Order here and you help keep Process going.
The grounded-rather-than-comfort-thought is new to me, I never thought about it that way. Keith Jarret comes to mind, his younger pieces like "La Fenice" or Munich. Köln would go well with drinking a single-origin pour-over while writing in a Moleskine notebook. I always enjoy your posts. This has a ring to it that makes it stand out. Hartelijk dank, ik waardeer het enorm.
I write about this topic often, since it’s the basis of my publication. I ground in several ways. Meditation, photography on impulse, writing and making music are top of the list. However, lately I am given to practicing art as a way of expressing myself in the midst of chaos—as a way of embracing mystery, not knowing, accepting uncertainty. The results have been interesting. Relevant post, Wesley!