Form and content are known to constitute photography. However, if the form or content stands out independently, the photograph may be useful but will not be artistically interesting. It will not achieve, not the transcendence which is the ultimate goal, but not even the basic artistic transformation. In good photography, it is very difficult to define what the form is and what the content is—the "essence" of the photograph. However, if sometimes the form tends to become autonomous, the content tends to become autonomous, but neither manages it, then the photograph acquires a great intensity, and intensity in art means emotion. These charismatic photographs are only made if the artist flirts, romances, with failure. If they dare, that is. They must walk alongside the cliff and if they avoid falling, then the photograph will be more significant. They simply must not fall in love with the effort, but must have the composure, beyond any ego, to judge the outcome. This is one reason why I say that when I judge photographs of young photographers, I am pleased when I reject interesting photographs and not so much when I select one or two or three good ones, which everyone has, from a collection of indifferent photographs. The photographer who dares, it is logical to fail. Then, however, the failure becomes an interesting failure, and the failure promises future success. Diane Arbus said, "enjoy your failed photographs, because it means you dared." But to dare, one must not be cuddled with the meaning of the result, nor be cuddled with their personal ego, but to rejoice—and to be cuddled—with the joy of the photographic process. Then the game becomes more important than the prize. And then the good photograph comes, while we do not expect it, because we have created the right conditions for it.