
Assignments From Within
The renowned photographer, Ansel Adams, used the terms “assignments from without” and “assignments from within” to distinguish between commercial projects and images he felt personally driven to create. His peers (like Imogen Cunningham) often teased him, calling him a “sellout.” He didn’t see it that way.
We are often called on to hold together in our hands what seem to be conflicting things. We may wish we could put one down and hold only the other, but often the one cannot exist without the other or is significantly enhanced by the other. This was how Adams saw the commercial work he was commissioned to produce in relation to the “art” he chose to create.
I’m not sure when this struggle began, but I believe it has been with us from the beginning of time. We are creative beings. We find meaning and fulfillment in doing things that align with our passions, skills, and interests. However, the requirement to provide for our basic needs (food, shelter, warmth) has historically consumed much of our time and usually involves tasks that decidedly do not feel very “creative.”
Interestingly, being “fulfilled” in a career is beneficial to both the person and the community they work with. People who feel like they are thriving in their role are often up to two times as productive as those who are not, and they are less than half as likely to be seeking another job. It is obviously important, so how do we accomplish it?
One of Adams’ more famous “assignments from without” was his Mural Project for The Department of the Interior in 1941—1942. This assignment was commercial in every way it could be. He was being paid for his time, the materials were provided for him, and the work product (negatives and copyrights) would belong to the government. However, some of Adams’ most iconic images are in this collection.
What Adams understood—and what his critics perhaps missed—was that creativity doesn’t operate in isolation. The discipline required for commercial work—meeting deadlines, working within constraints, satisfying clients—actually sharpened his artistic vision. When he photographed national parks for the government, he wasn’t merely documenting landscapes; he was learning to see with fresh eyes, to work efficiently under pressure, and to translate his personal aesthetic vision into work that served a broader purpose.
The constraints of commercial assignments often pushed Adams into creative territories he might never have explored otherwise. Working with specific equipment, within defined budgets, or toward particular outcomes forced him to innovate. These limitations became catalysts for creativity rather than barriers to it. The technical skills he developed through commercial work—understanding light, mastering composition under challenging conditions, perfecting his printing techniques—directly enhanced his personal projects.
Similarly, his “assignments from within” informed his commercial work in profound ways. The deep connection he felt with the American landscape, cultivated through years of personal exploration and artistic development, brought an authenticity and emotional depth to his government commissions that elevated them far beyond mere documentation. His personal passion for conservation and natural beauty infused even the most commercial projects with genuine artistic merit.
This symbiotic relationship between commercial necessity and artistic passion reveals a fundamental truth about creative work: every aspect of our professional life contributes to our overall creative development. The spreadsheet we reluctantly update teaches us about organization and attention to detail. The difficult client conversation develops our communication skills and empathy. The rushed project deadline forces us to make decisive creative choices we might otherwise postpone indefinitely.
Adams’ career demonstrates that the tension between what we want to do and what we get to do isn’t necessarily destructive—it can be generative. The key lies in approaching all our work with intention and awareness—recognizing that even the most mundane tasks can contribute to our creative growth if we remain open to the lessons they offer.
The photographer’s ability to find artistic merit in commercial work wasn’t about compromise; it was about integration. He brought his full creative self to every project, whether it originated from internal inspiration or external necessity. This approach transformed routine assignments into opportunities for artistic exploration and personal growth.
In our modern context, this principle becomes even more relevant. As the boundaries between different types of work continue to blur, our ability to find creativity within constraint, to bring passion to practical tasks, and to see the interconnected nature of all our professional activities becomes crucial. Every email we write, every meeting we attend, every problem we solve contributes to the development of our creative capabilities. The lesson Adams offers isn’t about choosing between success and integrity—it’s about recognizing that seemingly opposing forces can enhance each other when approached with the right mindset. Every aspect of our work matters because it impacts every other aspect. If we are able to accept assignments from within and without with equal passion, we create a web of experience that ultimately defines both our professional success and our personal fulfillment—the Bison Way.