Sunday, October 6, 2013

PhotoTao Card # 43 - Wonderful Harmony

Wonderful Harmony
Give birth to yourself.  Awaken your
senses by participating in the
wonderful harmony.
- Exercise -
Each photograph, regardless of subject
matter, is also a self-portrait.  The camera's
lens points inward as well as outward.
What do your photographs tell the casual
observer about you?  Through the images
you make, are you truly giving birth to
yourself each time?  Make a series of 
photographs that could be seen as a self-
portrait...what would you choose to 
represent you?


    Another way to approach this challenge is to look through all your images and choose 12 or 20 or whatever number you wish that would give a viewer a sense of who you are.  

   It might be through subject choices or lighting or any other criteria.  Does the group of images stand in as a "self portrait"?

   This is an image of the shale beach across from the cottage in Pembroke, Maine.  Although some of the other people staying with me bemoaned the fact that most of days were less that 100% sunny  I, on the other hand, reveled in it.  The shape shifting clouds subdued the harsh sunlight and added depth and interest to the images I made.  Like this one.  The luminous light on the water would have been glaring otherwise.

   I saw a pillow in a gift shop in Eastport that had a wonderful quote on it that I think is equally suitable for sailor or contemplative photographer....

You can not change the direction of the 
wind.  Instead, adjust your sails. 

...that ability to adjust one's sails is a characteristic I try to nurture all the time. I guess you would say it is part of my self-portrait.

 





Saturday, October 5, 2013

The A,B,C's of Contemplative Photography - L

L is for Latent (and also for Label, and Labyrinth, and Lambent, and Layers, and Limen, and...)

"of a quality or state existing but
not yet developed or manifest;
hidden; concealed"

   I'm a great fan of detective mysteries, in literature or on tv.  They are always talking about "latent prints" at a crime scene.  Sprinkle a bit of the black powder around and, voila!, there is the culprits fingerprints.  There is no denying the evidence; each fingerprint is unique to the individual.  No two are exactly the same.

    The landscape, for the contemplative photographer, also has a latent fingerprint...its unique but hidden identity.  And like fingerprints, no two places are the same.  It is the job of the contemplative photographer to ferret out the concealed wisdom and we don't do it with a sprinkle of black powder.  We do it with stillness and deep listening...heightened perception and the long, slow and considered regard of what is in front of us.

   One of the things I must admit I miss from the old darkroom experience is watching the latent image appear on my submerged photographic paper.  It always seemed like magic to me.  Then again, so do computers and digital cameras!  It's ALL magic!


Friday, October 4, 2013

The Beach of a Billion Billion Stones....

Hidden Treasure Lies Buried Here
   My trip to the Cobscook Bay region of Maine had a theme.  It wasn't a planned theme...it was a revealed theme.  The stones that fascinated me on Campobello, the stones I thought I'd left behind when I left last Saturday, became the amazing stones on the Jasper Beach in Machiasport where we stopped on our way back.

   This often happens to me when I travel.  The month I spent on South Uist in 2011, the month I thought I would spend making portraits, became a month of a newly revealed landscape, this time in color.  My series, Heberdean Skies was an eye opening revelation for me.  Perhaps those are the best ones...the ones we didn't seek but which found us anyway.  It has been that way with the stones.

   In many ways, the stones have been a kind of blessing.  Whenever I discover a new way of looking at the world around me I consider it a gift from the landscape. But at first glance, this stoney beach may not seem very special.  In fact, I saw people stop, stand for a few minutes, than leave.  They didn't realize what they were missing.

   When the stones are dry they look grey and lifeless...when I poured water on them they came alive.  What looked at first like uniform greyness, was actually a diverse range of tones and patterns carefully obscured by that greyness.  When you dug beneath the dry stones, there were the tiny pieces of jasper sheltered beneath their larger cousins above. How many are actually jasper is hard to say.  They do blend in with the other brownish stones but that hardly matters.

    The whole experience was a perfect final stone metaphor...a metaphor for the way we need to experience life's greatest treasures/experiences.  They rarely are left in plain view for us to find, they are often obscured by the ordinary, and the best experiences are only to be found after some hard digging.  It seemed these stones still had much to teach me.

   The beach is located in Howard Cove.  I thought that  a final bit of irony since my friend's last name, whose cairn I built on Campobello, was Howard.  It just made it seem more perfect for me since he had told me about these stones on my first trip to this region many years ago.  I still have the stones we gathered on that trip and as soon as I got home I dug through the closet looking for the box I'd stored them in. They have now joined the ones I collected on this trip.

   I've included a PDF on the beach through the link below.  There are only two Jasper Beaches in the world...one in Machiasport, Maine and one in Japan.  I'll probably never get back to Japan but it's great to know that there is such a magical place right here in my home state!





Thursday, October 3, 2013

Life Lessons from the Stones....

   I really think that this beach was the best part of my pilgrimage down east.  The experience was so greatly enhanced by Brian Flynn's lovely books.  I am offering you a few of my images which were a response to his wise words.



We are the gateway to the sea
from where all things come.
We are the entrance to the land 
and your first guide.



I am the stone at water's edge.
I stand at the edge of the place from which you came.
I stand at the edge of where
 you live.  I stand at the place to which your heart will always return.



There is comfort in
gathering with others and
being held by those who
have been broken.
They understand us. 



Sometimes we can
only come into
our own if we move
out of our
usual environment.





If we get close enough,
we can find our
common threads.

   This last one I will put into a shadow box as a lovely souvenir of my time down east.  Here is a link to Brian Flynn's wonderful books. 



Wednesday, October 2, 2013

A Beach of Metaphors...

   The first day I went to Herring Cove beach on Campobello it was raining but that didn't matter.  I was there to see the stones.  I recalled the first time I had seen these rock beaches over 15 years ago with a friend.  A trained geologist, he offered me the scientific viewpoint of their incredible variation. Then, as now, I marveled at their beauty and diversity but I'm getting ahead of myself.

   When I visited the Roosevelt visitor's center earlier in the day, I purchased two books by photographer Brian W. Flynn who summers on Campobello. I was merely killing time before our "tea with Eleanor" was to begin but finding the two books was a gift.  They triggered my memory of those stone beaches and my friend.  The Voices of Stones and The Wisdom of Stones also presented the idea of seeking metaphors on this very unique beach that I, as a contemplative photographer who is always searching for the metaphors contained in the landscape, found compelling.  So, despite the rain, I visited the beach and collected some stones.

Vernon's Cairn
   But it was clear to me my conversation with this particular landscape was far from over.  A few days later I made my way back to the stone strewn beach with the little books as companions and a mission to complete.

   I wanted to commemorate this serendipitous moment of discovery and my pilgrimage "Down East" in some way.  I built a cairn to my friend who first introduced me to these stones all those years ago and who passed away unexpectedly in 2011.  I also wanted to pay tribute to the pilgrim I was trying so hard to become by photographing a feather and a pine cone on one of the stones.

   I read about the symbolism of these two objects in a recent post on the Abbey of the Arts blog and the very next day I found them during my travels. (Just another example of the amazing synchronicity that seems to follow me on these trips and which I have now come to expect.  It never fails to appear.)  Here is the excerpt from the post...
  
"Hildegard described herself as being a "feather on the breath of God" and pilgrimage invites us to notice what we are holding too tightly to, so we might release ourselves into the current of life. The feather was a reminder of the call to surrender whatever it is we grasp onto.
And Hildegard cherished the greening beauty of the world as a living mirror of the capacity for our souls.  The pine cone is a symbol of the new seeds planted in every journey. We go on pilgrimage to be changed, to see the world with eyes of wonder. We don't know the fullness of the journey's impact until
long after." - Christine Valters Paintner

    Tomorrow, I will show you a few metaphors I was gifted with the help of Flynn's wonderful books. It was one of many blessings I received on this trip.




  

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

Inspired by Diane Walker....

   I've admired Diane Walkers work and writing for some time and I've mentioned her on this blog in the past.  She has graciously agreed to an interview on the idea and practice of contemplative photography.


What brought you to the idea of contemplative photography in the first place? 
 
I had been photographing for several years, but the business didn’t seem to be going anywhere so I was thinking of giving it up.  I went off on a week long centering prayer retreat with Cynthia Bourgeault with that question in my head, and I found I kept getting feedback – from people, and in meditation – that said no, I shouldn’t give it up. 

The Park Gate
 I came home to find that one of my favorite photographs – a black and white, taken in Venice, very different from my usual Teal-heavy boat and water scenes -- had sold, and in talking about that with the curator of my gallery, he said, “I would always know one of your photographs.  Doesn’t matter what the subject matter is, you can always tell a Diane Walker photo.”  It became apparent, both in conversation with him and in thinking it over later that what set my work apart was that contemplative feel, so I decided, okay, I’m a contemplative photographer!

 So I decided to just go with that; set up the website and the blog, designed business cards, etc.  It didn’t mean the business took off; it just meant I had words for what I was doing, and it felt like a call. 


What characterizes your practice of contemplative photography?  How does photography enhance your contemplative practice?


About 3 years later, after I’d set up the website and been blogging and posting photos for a while, a friend introduced me to the folks who do Miksang Contemplative Photography and I flew out to Colorado for one of their courses. They approach it from a very different perspective, with very different results, but I do love the clarity of their work. It was good, because it forced me to ask this very question – what makes my work different from theirs?

After the Fog
Like the Miksang folks, I take photos from a more meditative space, as a kind of response to a call from the subject. But for me the subject has a story to tell; my photos tend to be more complex than theirs – all of which contributes to the message. I guess you could say that with my photos it’s more of a two-way street. So each morning, after my meditation practice, I go to my computer, look over the images, and say, “What sings to me today.” And almost always one photo will call to me, so then I sit with it and ask what it has to teach me – and then I write about that.

Which means the act of contemplation happens at several points in the overall practice: I meditate in the morning before I go out with my camera. Going out with the camera, I remain open to my surroundings and listen with my eyes for what’s calling to me. I meditate before blogging. And I go to my image file and listen again for what’s calling to me. And then I spend time with that image, listening for what it has to teach me. It’s at that point that I then write down what it is that I’m sensing from what I see, which may be an echo of something I’ve read, or some new thought that’s come to me, or a poem – I don’t ever quite know until it happens.

How does that whole experience enhance my contemplative process? I think it’s a constant reminder that the world is much bigger than me; that I have more to learn than to teach. Plus it’s a way to practice surrendering control, to (as they say) “Let go and let God” – or whatever you would like to name that divine source – take over.


What advice would you offer someone who is interested in the concept of contemplative photography?  How, why, and where do you begin? 

It seems to me that Contemplative Photography isn’t really about the camera, it’s about the response, about your openness, your willingness to listen.  Yes, you need to understand the workings of the camera, but I don’t believe you need a terrific camera with lots of bells and whistles to do this.  Yes, I do shoot almost entirely in manual mode, so I can control the exposure (I seem to see light differently than camera manufacturers do, so automatic settings never give me what I want).  But I mostly use a fairly small point and shoot so I can always keep it handy, ready to respond if there’s a call to photograph something.  (I do love having the longest possible zoom, though).

Root Crucifix
A teacher once told me that an amateur photographer TAKES a photograph but a professional photographer MAKES a photograph – and despite the fact that I see this process as a response, I still believe that’s true. Yes, I meditate first thing every morning – it helps keep me flexible and open. Yes, I’m sort of always scanning my environment as I go through my day, paying attention to what’s around me, noticing what strikes a response in me. But when I feel that call and grab the camera, I need to take the time to frame the shot well, to eliminate extraneous details, to focus in on the specific thing or combination of things and find a way to achieve a balance that will give them voice through the image. I may not have chosen the subject, but once it’s there I have a responsibility to render it well, to facilitate its message as best I can.

So although it may be a point and shoot camera, it’s rarely a point-and-shoot process; I spend time moving around the space, looking for the angle, perspective, crop etc. that works best – which means that sometimes, since light plays such a huge role in all of this, I lose the shot because the light changes. So occasionally, if it’s clear light plays a major role in the quality of the shot, I’ll take a quick one right up front, just in case the light goes.

So to answer the question, about where to begin – I think it begins with humility. I don’t go into it thinking “today I’m going to say THIS with my camera.” It’s more putting myself at the disposal of what needs to be communicated. I don’t even go out there thinking I’m going to take a great photograph, because some of the most beautiful experiences I’ve had doing this have not necessarily been great or beautiful photographs. It’s more about the interaction between me, the camera, and the subject; more about my ability to set my own desires or need for control aside and let the world around me speak for itself. I guess I see myself as a vehicle through which the words and images flow.

   Thank you Diane!  I think your responses were insightful and honest.  Contemplative photography is such a personal process; one size most certainly doesn't fit all!  Your thoughts have made it clear that contemplative photography is also a process that evolves over time.  As Lao Tzu says, even the longest journey begins with the first step.  I hope this interview motivates many to make that first step...the journey is so worth it!

   Here are some links to Diane's work...

Her wonderful blog....Contemplative Photography
(You can reach her Facebook page from this blog.)

You can see albums of her work here...

You may be interested in one of Diane's lovely books...

Illuminating the Mystery

A Contemplative Photographers Alphabet

And finally, her YouTube video on Contemplative Photography which
I have shared with you before...

Encounters with the Sacred
Contemplative Photography as an Act of Faith


Enjoy and be Inspired!


Monday, September 30, 2013

Wanderings...

My Bags are Packed...
A good traveler has no fixed plans.
-Lao Tzu 

 I recently met with a group of people who will be accompanying me to Ireland next year.  None of them have been to Ireland before and they were bubbling over with questions, which is only natural.  Before I began to approach travel as pilgrimage, I too wore the somewhat heavy mantle of "tourist".  Schedules, agendas, "must see's" were most important and I made lists and lists of  lists.

   Now I have a totally different approach because I try to travel with a pilgrim's heart and not a tourist's mindset.  I make general plans and reservations but the minute I board the plane I leave all expectations behind.  I keep my heart and mind completely open to the serendipitous, the spontaneous and the spur of the moment.  I expect, no, welcome, the unexpected.

   My week down east was a perfect example of the unexpected.  Coming across the books by Brian Flynn reminded of the stone beach I'd visited 16 years ago on Grand Manan.  Reading the introduction I discovered there was such a beach right there on Campobello!  I asked the attendant and she showed me a map of the island where I could find these marvelous stones and off I went on a search that certainly wasn't on my "agenda".  The serendipitous, the spontaneous and the unexpected all at once!


   My friends and I will spend a week together next May in "John's house" in Ballyvaughan where I'll introduce them to that magical thin place, The Burren.  It is the first leg of my month long Threshold Pilgrimage.  (You'll hear much more about that in the months to come.) After a week in community, I'll leave for a solitary retreat to Iona and they will be on their own.  I've encouraged them to just wander.  To follow their hearts GPS and see where it leads them.

   I've always had this wild idea of going to the airport one day and letting circumstance and whim decide which plane I board and where I end up.  No plans, no reservations, no expectations.  I would simply  trust I'd end up someplace interesting and meaningful.  I would try to be like those ancient Celtic monks who would put to sea in their tiny curraughs with no rudder and no oars...content to let the sea take them to a place of its own choosing, not theirs.  This complete suspension of control is the ultimate act of faith I think.

Click on the lovely quote by John O'Donohue below to learn a bit more about these wandering Celtic monks. 


- John O'Donohue