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
Just a simple image of the Woods bordering the cool waters of the lake at Saint Aignan. I got out there for a quick trip recently which was really just about the fresh air and stretching of legs. Of course, the scenery was beautiful… it is always beautiful out there. And those are the moments that photos like this get made. Images that aren’t trying to be any grand statement on art, but simple reflections of simple beauty.
Words without sound Feb.2019
I love a misty Forest.
When on a sunny day
It starts to rain
Keep me in mind
I know what it’s like
To not feel love
My shadow stays
Even when I’m miles away
I know what it’s like
To not feel pain
When the lights are dim
In my window I have a twin
I’m always looking out
And he’s always looking in
I know what it’s like
Starting over again
One of those times when an image is so much more proficient than words at communicating my thoughts.
Somewhere there is someone who can see what I can see!
Huelgoat Forest New years Eve 2018
So often you head out into the world as a photographer knowing what you are looking for. I knew what I wanted to find on this trip recently. It was going to be beautiful autumn colours, ancient trees and maybe a lake or two. But as is often the case, it is the unexpected scenes you find along the way that can be the most enjoyable. You don’t step out the door thinking that what you want to find is a quiet abandoned table and chairs under the soft light of twilight with the leaves blowing in the wind and the birds chirping. These things are more difficult to expect and anticipate, and it is probably wise to not try. Rather it is better to just be open to seeing them in a glimpse as you pass by on a country lane and having the presence of mind to turn around and go back. Life is a collection of the big moments and the small, the grand scenes and the quiet ones, so it is therefore no surprise that photographing one’s life is also comprised of the same components.
When the soul lies down in that forest the world is too busy to talk about
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