The basic ingredients for this image look a bit like this: Nikon, Daguerreotype lens, Rollei Retro 80S film, Hoya R72 filter. But for spice I involuntarily added some grain issues, which left a texture across the image, and throw in a healthy dose of chance timing. So once framing and focus are achieved, you are flying blind in terms of the exact timing of an image at the moment of exposure. But I have learned many things over the years. Patience is one of them. I know few other things as patient as Mother Nature. Also the fact that nothing is ever certain, that the wind will change and nothing remains static for long. So if one opportunity is missed, it is only a matter of time ‘til another comes along. And that there is beauty in the random. One has no control over how the wind churns the waves or how the trees dance. Yet the resulting random mix of influences can create unexpected and beautiful confluences of events.
I’m learning to love him
to love and forgive
I’m learning to trust him
to let the man live
I’m learning to see him
to see who he is
I’m learning to love
the beauty he is
I’m learning to hold
his life in my hands
I’m learning to love
me just as I am
Is it easy to keep so quiet?
Everybody loves a quiet child
Underwater you’re almost free
If you want to be alone, come with me
Is it easy to live inside yourself?
All the little kids are high and hazy
Nowhere to go
Everybody wants to be amazing
The world’s rotten
Dress light-cold to be forgotten
Eat your pearls on Sunday morning
Keep your conversations boring
Stay with me among the strangers
Change your mind and nothing changes
You should try to get some sun
There’s a little bit of hell in everyone
True to my style I will try to do something new photographically on subsequent visits to a well explored location. While not technically a new technique for me, I decided to work on some infrared photography, particularly in the Hasselblad. It has been a while since I have done much infrared and even longer since I have done much in 120. And I believe I could count the number of rolls of infrared I had shot in 120 on one hand. So that was the direction I went in.
On a related note, this will not be the last infrared you see from me this year but the odds are decent that the next images you see will be in full colour. But that is all the tease I am giving you for now.
A thought to share today as I was reminded of this recently… it’s simple: don’t introduce your work by apologising for it. Put another way, don’t show your images and then tell everything that’s wrong with it. This happens a lot, and mostly with novice photographers who have not yet developed a level of comfort with the presentation of their photography with others. By pointing out the flaws in your image before your audience can point them out, I guess you maintain some sense of control over it. Or maybe it is harder to hear that criticism from others, so you deliver it yourself. Or our work is so deeply personal and we have a tendency to focus on our shortcomings. Also this doesn’t seem as pervasive in other art forms. I don’t think I have ever heard a painter, writer or sculptor telling everything they did wrong, or didn’t do right. There might be something to ponder there…
It is good to be able to look at your images and see how they could be better or different. In fact, the day you look at your photography and think the photos are perfect is the day you should panic. The trick though is to learn how to let your photographs be what they are, and to present them as such, and then to listen carefully to what others think they are. You take that feedback and weigh it against your initial assessment and see what you have at that point. It is not an easy process to learn… or maybe it is just not a short process to learn. Or both. But that is my advice and encouragement for today.
Let someone start believing in you
Let him hold out his hand
Let him touch you
And watch what happens
The goal isn’t the pictures… it isn’t even to make the pictures. The photographs just happen and are a by-product of what I am really doing.
But what exactly is that? I don’t know that I can adequately explain it. I suppose in a certain sense my pictures tell that story, but I think sometimes the audience tends to fixate on the picture itself, the artefact or object, and not the underlying reasons for that image’s existence. I don’t think I share images because I want to share the image. In a weird way I don’t really care about the picture. It is far less important to me than why I made the picture, and I suppose that is what I try to share when I share images. It is also why I am never quite comfortable accepting praise regarding the images I make. I appreciate the thoughts behind it, but it feels like it either misses the point that was driving me, or subverts the meaning of what I was doing slightly. If that makes any sense. There is something deeply spiritual for me when I stand there in ancient woods. I can talk about it, or write about it (as these are natural things to want to do when something moves you on such a level) but one of the other forms of communication I am effective at is photography, so it is also natural for me to want to communicate via imagery. The photograph is just the vehicle. But if you were to linger a bit more on the spiritual aspect of it, I could comment that the photograph is an idol of sorts, and the worship of an idol versus that larger entity which the idol represents… Yes, I know, it is all a bit out there and weird to describe it this way, but at the moment they are the best words I have to describe something whose description has long eluded me. I am not critical of enjoying a photograph, but at the same time I am aware that there is something much better worth admiring above and beyond that photograph. At least that is how I feel when it comes to my photographs.
These are the days, the time is now
There is no past, there’s only future
There’s only here, there’s only now
This had actually been an image I had tried to make before. My attention was caught by the curve of the treeline and the distance trail of light. It was one of those quiet kind of photos that I like to make. But it was a dark scene and on that particular outing my intuition in terms of exposure was off. The resulting image was too thin to use. I actually forgot about it pretty quickly. I have underexposed too many photos to remember. Overexposed too many as well. Heck, properly exposed even more, and far too many to recount. And that is how it goes. You make images, some turn out, some don’t. Sometimes you make mental notes and sometimes you don’t. I didn’t think much of it until a recent expedition saw me standing in the same spot. I had forgotten about this image til I looked through the trees and there it was… not like an old friend but more like someone you met once whose face you recognise even if their name eludes you immediately. So I went at it again, this time remembering that my initial attempt had suffered underexpose. So I took my gut instinct and doubled it, or something like that… intuition piled upon intuition. It was a tricky scene to estimate because the lake was so dark, but that is why I like film. It generally tends to cast a kinder eye on guess work or tricky scenes like this.
Anyway, I like the result. It captures a bit of that isolation and quiet solitude that one feels standing up here.
and the causalities of winter.