Perfection is the death of progress.
Perfection is the death of progress.
All I can think of with these images is, what they might look like if Michael Kenna did more colour. Because I like what he does and then I begin to try to find that demarcation line between where the influence starts and where it stops. Not that I mind.
The fact is, Michael Kenna doesn’t do much, if any colour, and he wasn’t standing there. I was. And I had colour film. And while I don’t remember exactly what I was thinking on that particularly chilly outing, I do remember thinking about the colour.
To me I post a lot, it is true. But I photograph a lot too. And if I am being honest I do experience a fair amount of frustration that I don’t do more with my photography. When it comes to social media specifically I have never liked putting up images just for the sake up putting them. Perhaps I would decrease my backlog if I did, but I always like to post when I feel something, or have something to express. I want it to be a worthwhile effort. At least, in my estimation.
But then I look through my library, searching for an image to post along with some idea I want to express. And I find one, but in the process I find six others… or more, which on the day of scanning I promptly filed away and forgot about it. But there was a good half inch of virtual dust on this file when I pulled it up. A part of me feels some guilt about this. A part of me doesn’t care. A part of me rekindles the idea that I really need to work on a new book that I keep threatening myself to start. A part of me thinks I really need to get back on the road and just make more photos.
It is an interesting thing to ponder because I keep circling back to the question of, Why? Why does it matter if I share these specific images? Why did I make it to begin with? Why does it have value to me, if it actually does? Why worry about it at all? And the answers to these questions and so many more are different for each of us. I have to some extent answered these questions for myself, either consciously or through my actions. I do place value in the images I create, but I also know I place a lot of value in other parts of the photographic process too, and that explains why I let so many of these languish. And in my own way I have found peace with that too.
But maybe not entirely.
There is something about chasing light. The scramble to find the right spot to be because you somehow feel you are not already there.
And then in ways that cannot fully be described, there you are, at the edge of somewhere where you pulled over after leaving the last spot you were in (which you thought was THE spot, and it was in its own way but you didn’t realise you would soon find this spot as well). There is a sense of passing in such moments, that short window of time and light, knowing that where and when you are standing is measured in seconds, maybe minutes.
It is beautiful, even more so than the sunrise-drenched Horizon and the quiet Rose in front where the Seagulls and Insects are just beginning to wake up. It is a sentiment expressed in the quiet rustle of the morning breeze. Those are easy moments to photograph in and they are hard moments to photograph in. It is difficult to not just remain perfectly still and silent and try to breathe as deeply as you can, soaking as much of that rare moment in to take with you when the time inevitably arrives and the light slips away. And you quietly set the camera away and climb back in your car and move on, in part because you have to and in part because there is other light to chase and other right spots to arrive at and be in.
I continue to be intrigued by how we see and experience colour. What if our colour layers would have been swapped? Take anything green and replaces it with purple, and vice versa. This swapping of course has other side effects on colour rendition, but the purple-green connection is the main impetus here.
Considering that I like to spend time in green places (like forests) I have some motivation to investigate.
To me this isn’t a gimmick, but instead helps me meditate on the idea but for a quirk of evolution we may not see forests as the lush green wonderlands they are. Our eyes could have adapted to see them as lush purple wonderlands or magenta wonderlands if we had developed some infrared sensitivity. There are some out there with colour blindness that don’t see them as all that green. We are used to seeing forests as green and take it for granted that they are green and we don’t even spend any time thinking about alternatives. I like trying to think about the things I don’t think about. So here’s to thinking about forests in ways we don’t normally think about them.
But there’s so much more than this
There is something else there
When all that we perceive has all gone
But nothing fades as fast as the future
And nothing clings like the past, until we can see
Way beyond imagination
Beyond the stars
With my head so full of fractured pictures
It’s all there is
Gino and Libby
Sam, Denzil, Libby and Hattie
And as Waldmeister Aldo becomes our newest Champion my thoughts drift to my dog of a lifetime. Nimrods Gismo also known as Gino. His blood runs in all Waldmeister Dachshunds. You travelled on way too soon.
“They say you can’t take it with you but they are wrong, because something big has gone”
I’d like to buy a good
Used paper back bible
Too much time to kill
Too much wasted air
Too much everything
No need to think
Here above the clouds
I am free of all the crowds
I float above the surf
And I feel the rush of love
And I have always thought
That hand guns were made for shooting people
Rather than for sport
Guess I’d like to sell
A good used paper back bible.
If this is heaven it can wait.
I am fascinated by long-term, human inspired erosion, both of natural landscapes and urban cityscapes.
I can be staring at the grooves worn in stone or far up a moor looking at boot-worn and eroded footpaths and it captivates me.
But I struggle to articulate just why this is so. I guess a lot of it is the scale, both in terms of time and numbers of people involved. It is a subtle, collective history written of a place and of a countless large group of anonymous people.
But such scenes are also testimony to the impact and effect we have on a place. Go out for a hike, and you are leaving a trace, it just isn’t usually a trace measured in a day’s time. Given enough people and enough days and a trail is blazed, the trail widens, tree roots get exposed, plant life is trampled into dust, erosion patterns change.
I wrestle balancing both the negative and positive aspects of this behaviour. Mostly I just remember that wherever I go, wherever my feet land or my hands graze, I am making an impact.
I am eroding, slowly, those places I love. This means I have to value that time spent there, to make that subtle cost worth it, however I can.
Most of the time I see more with my imagination than I do with my eyes, but usually it is still all right there in front of me.
Art is Power
Friendship is Power
Love is Power
Music is Power
Idleness is Power
Attitude is Power
Writing is Power
Discovery is Power