Being Present in the World
This landscape seems like any other at first sight. But in fact it is the result of a conscious decision to go out into conditions that often deter photographers – what we think is bad light and rain. What prompted me to do this? Well I can be very specific here, and point to two absolutely brilliant video presentations that I had watched as the rain poured down earlier in the day. The first is by English artist and photographer Justin Jones, “On Landscape” www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZBT5pgFFwWo
One of Justin’s key concepts here is the notion of “visual literacy”. In just the same way as we learn to read a text, so we must also to learn to read the visual language of a photograph. This is just as important for composing as interpreting a photograph. Landscapes that survive the test of time are those we choose to return to time and again. Chocolate box images in perfect light and with plenty of Photoshop-ing give us a “sugar hit”, but it doesn’t last. That’s why we keep returning to the realist landscapes of Ansel Adams, Robert Adams and Fay Godwin and not to those that dominate the Google pages.
The second inspiring video was an interview with the Danish photographer Per Bak Jensen, “It isn't the camera. It's life itself unfolding.” www.youtube.com/watch?v=X1L-UmKwZHQ&t=506s
I assure you that this is 38 minutes very well spent if you are concerned with making your photography count. If there is one quote that sums up Jensen’s perspective it is this:
“...I sense something in our midst. Among us is something that wants to be in contact with us… That something wants to tell me something. I often feel I am very close to knowing or being told something – that can increase my knowledge of being a human being. My photographs are an attempt to search for the presence of that something, that can teach me about myself and about life.”
Jensen then concludes a lifetime’s photographic observation with this key:
“The photos I take aren’t photos I take myself. It’s a cooperation between me and something else that makes me take the pictures. I’d rather claim that the fundamental value of art is the spirit. And the spirit wants to contact us, but it’s invisible… But somehow it gives us an odd desire. It gives us courage. And it gives us a life force… If that’s the case, traces of that spirit can be seen in our images. I think that everyone working with images hopes so. That one can find a life force and spirituality in one’s work.”
The important thing for me when taking “Being Present in the World” was to immerse myself in the scene. To allow my subconscious understanding of “being in the landscape” to take over the decisions I made in the composition. When this happens you become part of the flow of life – you feel the breeze, smell the water in the wetlands, taste the air, observe every swan, react to the subtle changes in colour from green through to straw-yellows. And you also feel the Presence.
For me the trigger for that was the cloud cover that sat like a cushion overhead. I made my settings and clicked the shutter button. In that fraction of a second the landscape and I were inseparable. In Buddhist philosophy this is known as non-duality. There is simply no way to distinguish subject from object. The landscape was taking me in as much as I was photographing it. You can’t describe this feeling (like most mystical experiences), except that when it happens you KNOW it is real.
When you come to process the image your rational mind begins to take over again. Observation of the landscape tells you things you hadn’t seen before. In this case the most interesting discovery was to see how my subconscious had noted the way that in the upper third of the photograph the darker clouds mirror the grass formations next to the river in the bottom third, with the brightest luminescence across the middle. I was not operating on some conscious level to obey the rule of thirds (most of those rules are intended to be broken anyway).
There are many ways to make a photograph. This is just another one of them.
Being Present in the World
This landscape seems like any other at first sight. But in fact it is the result of a conscious decision to go out into conditions that often deter photographers – what we think is bad light and rain. What prompted me to do this? Well I can be very specific here, and point to two absolutely brilliant video presentations that I had watched as the rain poured down earlier in the day. The first is by English artist and photographer Justin Jones, “On Landscape” www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZBT5pgFFwWo
One of Justin’s key concepts here is the notion of “visual literacy”. In just the same way as we learn to read a text, so we must also to learn to read the visual language of a photograph. This is just as important for composing as interpreting a photograph. Landscapes that survive the test of time are those we choose to return to time and again. Chocolate box images in perfect light and with plenty of Photoshop-ing give us a “sugar hit”, but it doesn’t last. That’s why we keep returning to the realist landscapes of Ansel Adams, Robert Adams and Fay Godwin and not to those that dominate the Google pages.
The second inspiring video was an interview with the Danish photographer Per Bak Jensen, “It isn't the camera. It's life itself unfolding.” www.youtube.com/watch?v=X1L-UmKwZHQ&t=506s
I assure you that this is 38 minutes very well spent if you are concerned with making your photography count. If there is one quote that sums up Jensen’s perspective it is this:
“...I sense something in our midst. Among us is something that wants to be in contact with us… That something wants to tell me something. I often feel I am very close to knowing or being told something – that can increase my knowledge of being a human being. My photographs are an attempt to search for the presence of that something, that can teach me about myself and about life.”
Jensen then concludes a lifetime’s photographic observation with this key:
“The photos I take aren’t photos I take myself. It’s a cooperation between me and something else that makes me take the pictures. I’d rather claim that the fundamental value of art is the spirit. And the spirit wants to contact us, but it’s invisible… But somehow it gives us an odd desire. It gives us courage. And it gives us a life force… If that’s the case, traces of that spirit can be seen in our images. I think that everyone working with images hopes so. That one can find a life force and spirituality in one’s work.”
The important thing for me when taking “Being Present in the World” was to immerse myself in the scene. To allow my subconscious understanding of “being in the landscape” to take over the decisions I made in the composition. When this happens you become part of the flow of life – you feel the breeze, smell the water in the wetlands, taste the air, observe every swan, react to the subtle changes in colour from green through to straw-yellows. And you also feel the Presence.
For me the trigger for that was the cloud cover that sat like a cushion overhead. I made my settings and clicked the shutter button. In that fraction of a second the landscape and I were inseparable. In Buddhist philosophy this is known as non-duality. There is simply no way to distinguish subject from object. The landscape was taking me in as much as I was photographing it. You can’t describe this feeling (like most mystical experiences), except that when it happens you KNOW it is real.
When you come to process the image your rational mind begins to take over again. Observation of the landscape tells you things you hadn’t seen before. In this case the most interesting discovery was to see how my subconscious had noted the way that in the upper third of the photograph the darker clouds mirror the grass formations next to the river in the bottom third, with the brightest luminescence across the middle. I was not operating on some conscious level to obey the rule of thirds (most of those rules are intended to be broken anyway).
There are many ways to make a photograph. This is just another one of them.