Filters...

   As photographers, we have a huge range of filters at our disposal to alter the acquired image.   Diffusion filters, neutral density filters, polarizing filters, special effects filters...the list goes on and on.  But what about our personal filters?  What do we carry around with us everyday that alters our perception of the world around us?

Through a Window, Dimly

   Those of us who have had formal training in photography carry the filter of photographic knowledge.  This was the filter I had the most difficulty disposing of when I took up the camera again in 2005 and discovered contemplative photography.  I "knew" what made a good photograph and I thought I knew what didn't.  The rules were an inhibiting filter to my experience.  It was like looking through a rainy window all the time. 

   One way to ascertain what your personal filters are is to look through a diverse collection of photography, either in a book or in a museum or gallery.  It is helpful to record your initial reaction to each photograph, maybe with the thumbs up and thumbs down judgement.  Then ask yourself...why do I like this particular photograph and why do I dislike this other one?  Somewhere along the line you will find yourself bumping into some sort of filter.  Something that is getting in your way of appreciating a particular style or technique or subject matter.

   It's perfectly alright to have preferences, it's only natural, but when they are getting in the way of your ability to explore new ideas or push your personal image making envelop just a bit then they are acting as inhibiting filters.  Best to be aware of it and put them aside from time to time.  Try seeing the world without your personal filter.

A Contemplative Look at the Visual Elements - Line...

Fork in the Road

   This is the first in a series of posts I will do that will explore the visual elements and design principles of art from a contemplative perspective.  We begin with the visual element - LINE.

   As an art major and teacher, the visual elements were considered the building blocks of art.  All art, be it drawing or painting, sculpture or photography, is made up of these elements.  This series will, however, approach the visual elements from the perspective of the contemplative photographer not as a graphic designer...not through their manipulation but through their implications.  In painting and sculpture and all of the visual arts except photography, the artist is in charge of creating and manipulating the visual elements.  In photography we don't create the elements, we discover them in the world around us.  Our main "control" is how we choose to frame what we see.  It is a very different process.

     What are some of the ways line speaks to those of us who use photography as part of our contemplative practice?   First of all, line is directional.  Your eye follows a line and it can lead you in all sorts of directions.  By following a line you create movement in the otherwise static image.  The  photograph above has several line elements.  Three of them curve gently and to the right.  They lead your eye into the distance.  One pair of lines, however, the broken black ones on the bottom, force you to look to the left.  They are opposing line elements that try to pull your eye away from the others.  By framing the photograph so that the lines emerge from the lower right, I've emphasized their importance in the image.

   Lines themselves, have a symbolic power of suggestion.  Vertical lines are up lifting while horizontal lines are more static and calm.  Curved and zig zag lines create a greater sense of movement.  Even the thickness or thinness of a line adds to its impact.  All can enhance the metaphor for the contemplative photographer but in the end the metaphor is related to the context of the image not merely the lines themselves. 

   In the image of the two roads above, the metaphor is not obvious until you know that the road on the right is the road that leads you by the Abbey of Gethsemani in Kentucky and the road on the left, the road with the black lines that are pulling you away from the main road, is the driveway of the Abbey.  There is a wealth of reflection I could do on this image around my experience at the Abbey.  I photographed this otherwise unremarkable scene for that metaphoric possibility.  Those lines were the focal point for me that added to and expanded the metaphor...they were not the metaphor themselves.

   Whenever I've lectured on contemplative photography I've urged people to develop their own symbol system to aid them in reflecting on their images.  Lines have some universal implications (pick up any good book on design and you can read all about it...here is a link to a general discussion of the visual elements) but it matters most what they mean to you.   Since our photographs are not meant to influence another persons perception of our work, only illuminate out own meditations on the image, then how the visual elements are perceived by you is all that matters.





  

Photographic Subject Matter - The Still Life

   One of the photographs that had a profound influence on me when I was studying photography was Edward Weston's famous image of a pepper.  It was a revelation to me that such a common, ordinary object could be the subject of a fine art photograph.  Weston's handling of the light was breath taking and when I think of  still life photography, this is the image that comes to mind for me.

   I haven't ever experimented with studio still life photographs.  I prefer to find my nature morte out in the landscape.  I jokingly told a friend that when I am too old to travel I'll start my studio still life series!  Since I work exclusively with natural light this will require me to learn lighting.  I'm not sure if Weston used artificial lighting on his pepper or not but my studio in Maine has a lot of natural light so perhaps I can dispense with the artificial light and rely on reflectors and slow shutter speeds.

   Weston was making a reference to the human body with his pepper photograph and I think, as a contemplative photographer, still life photography presents a kind of dilemma.  If we stage the photograph we must have a notion of what it is we are trying to communicate through the image before hand.  There is a bit of artificiality about it.  That's something each photographer must work out for themselves.

   This is still, after 8 years, one of my favorite still life images.  The Dresser, made on the Isle of Harris in the Outer Hebrides.  It speaks so clearly to the culture of the island people and I've described it as an domestic altar to the sanctity of belonging.

A more recent still life study is this image of the drapery folds in my bedroom at the Shaker Village in Pleasant Hill, Kentucky.  The extreme simplicity and lovely late afternoon light was quite wonderful. I know that when people think of "still life" they often think of the proverbial bowl of fruit but it can be so much more.

    Still life is a fascinating subject matter for the contemplative photographer no matter how you approach it whether through staged studio set ups or through objects you find along the way.  One of my favorite venues for still life is old grave yards...it can't get much more still than that!



  

PhotoTao Card #35 - Passion

Passion

Allow your passion for beauty to lead

you to the experience of beauty.  Let your

passion to know lead you to self-

understanding.

- Exercise -

    Create an album of the "beautiful"
(as you choose to define the term) by
seeking it in unusual places.  In the
margins of the album, write your
responses to each image by answering
this question..."Why do I see this 
particular thing as 'beautiful' ?"  By the
end of the album has your definition of
the "beautiful" altered in any way?

      I think the thing that has altered most in my thinking over the years I have pursued contemplative photography is my concept of "beauty".  Oh, I still love the field of wildflowers or the spectacular sunset but a tiny pink petal on a gravel road made me stop and stare.

Beauty for me is often found in the juxtapositions I come across. Those subtle pairings in unexpected places most often inspire me.  Perhaps it is the contrast of the rough grey gravel and the soft pink petal...the delicate and the rugged.  The beautiful is often found in these contrasts.  They can also be found in the more marginalized places in the landscape.  Actively seek out beauty in these usually passed by places...it is there.

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

D is for Discernment (and also for Discriminating and Dualistic Thinking and Discovery and Delve...)

 "The act or process of exhibiting keen insight and good judgment."

   That definition offers the two sides of Discernment...insight and judgement.  As a contemplative photographer we try to nurture the former while at the same time shying away from the latter.  The insightful regard for the landscape is a crucial skill for the contemplative photographer.  However, to judge is to limit perception and this is something to avoid at all costs.

    The exercise of looking for the alphabet in the details of the village of Monhegan was a great way to hone my discriminating skills. So is photographic beach combing.  (You can read about that here.)  Training your eye to observe the small details of a landscape opens up a whole new world...a world of the intimate viewpoint.

   Kim Manley Ort has written a lovely essay on discernment and you can read it  here. It explains quite succinctly the moment, after the initial flash of inspiration, where the photographers discriminating process begins.  Another insightful essay on judgement and discernment is from Diane Walker's blog, Wooden Hue.  You can read that one here.

   For me, discernment is an internal shift or movement that subtly realigns the perception of a place or thing.  It can also be a whole intuitive process that occurs without conscious direction.  The more I practice discernment in the field, the more adept I am at creating images that go beyond mere description and that is always my goal.

   

  

Following Your Path...

   Being with six other photographers for a week was an interesting experience, both inspiring and challenging.  We all had different focuses for our work and each of us approached the process of photography in our own unique way.  We were each following our own paths.

   Contemplative photographers too have their own paths to follow whether it is to focus on the quality of their perceptions exclusively, as in the Miksang approach, or to delve more into the metaphoric capability of their images which is the path I'm on.  Of course, we can never tell what lies around the corner, as in this photograph of a road on Monhegan Island.  It might take us in a completely different direction or it may even become a fork which will force us to decide which path we want to take.  But the really cool thing about roads is that they go in two directions!  We can always travel back along the path we've already walked and take that other fork.  We can also decide to sit down by the side of the road for awhile and just enjoy where we are at the moment...life is not a race and it doesn't come with a time table for completion.

   It is very easy to begin to question yourself, question the direction of your work when you are in a group of other photographers.  I tried very hard to stay focused on my own path.  Others may join you for a time and you can enjoy their company and learn from their experience but in the end you must continue on your own way and be true to your own vision.  The only way your work will be authentic and worthwhile is if it remains a pure expression of your own soul and not a mirror image of someone else.  That is something you want to keep in mind especially when you take photographic workshops.  Listen, absorb, digest and then keep only what contributes to your special way of photographing the world.  Just because you are on a different path doesn't mean you're lost!



  

A Return to The Mount...

    The last time I visited Edith Wharton's home in Lennox, Massachuestts, The Mount, was in 1970.  I have always been a fan of Wharton's writings - The House of Mirth, The Age of Innocence, and Ethan Frome ( The last, a book that was required reading in my high school literature class.)  When I visited in 1970, The Mount was a sadly neglected remnant of the Gilded Age,  a time of great wealth and privilege in America.  This era lasted from about 1870 to the start of the first World War.  It seemed as if The Mounts days were numbered and it would slowly slip into obscurity.

Late Afternoon Light at The Mount

   This was, thankfully, not to be.  With the help of a enterprising new director, the funds were found and The Mount was brought back from the brink.  I visited it recently to see the transformation for myself.  A friend, visiting from Utah suggested, on the spur of the moment, that we make the 2+ hour drive from Boston to the lovely Berkshire village of Lennox and I jumped at the chance.  My cousin declined to go, too far to drive, too late in the day but after all, this is the year I have tried to revisit special places near to my home in Maine so off we went.
  
   We got a late start and heavy traffic delayed our arrival to 4:15.  We missed the last tour but since it was close to the closing time of the house, we got in free.  There also was a jazz concert planned for 5:00 pm on the terrace, also free, so after a run through the beautifully restored house, we walked the exquisite gardens that were bathed in glorious late afternoon light.  With soft sounds of the jazz quartet playing on the terrace, it was a magical hour.    Had we left earlier we wouldn't have had this amazing experience.  The lesson here is, when the spirit moves you just GET UP AND GO!

   My friend told me about a book she was reading, Practical Classics: 50 Reasons to Re-Read 50 Books You Haven't Touched Since High School by Kevin Smokler.   This certainly fit into the theme of this year's travel and I've already ordered Ethan Frome to re-read.  It isn't just a nostalgic return to some romanticized past but a way to reflect on your own personal growth and transformation during the ensuing years.  I saw the Mount with totally different eyes this time and the wisdom I glean from Ethan Frome will be different as well I'm sure.  We can reflect on the person we've become by looking at how we revisit our past experiences.  A worthwhile enterprise I think.