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As a photographer I am concerned with finding moments that resonate with an imitation of the infinite. This is not so obtuse as it sounds at first glance. Let me explain. As I understand the idea of existence, the experiencing of life, I see it as being confined to an infinitely small NOW, a moment that cannot be measured nor articulated, for at the very moment of arrival it is replaced by yet another. What remains, what is left behind, of the experience of the NOW is a trace of memory, an ability to recall and respond to that trace in profoundly human ways (I won’t get into projection).
The student approached the Zen Master complaining he could not achieve enlightenment. The Zen Master reminded his student that he must be patient and just do as he was told. Impatiently the student complained that he has been patient for many years and still nothing. The Zen Master held up his index finger and the student was instantly enlightened.
I often hear people making the following comment, “I took a picture just like that only yours is better than mine.” This is especially true for photographs made of more or less famous landmarks or places. Herein lies the difference between a photograph and a snapshot, an artistic representation of a place or a picture. It turns on the act of seeing and how one sees.
Fresh orange slices are set out to attract butterflies. It works. The butterflies flock to the oranges. Its what they do. There is no stopping them. The butterflies are lifeless perched on the orange slices as the temperature is on the cool side causing them to conserve energy. It is what they do. They adjust to the conditions around them. They seek out that which is sweet and absorb as much warmth as is possible from the sun. They don’t think about it, at least not in the sense that human beings think about intention, they simply do, they exist as one with their surroundings.
Words in print are much like photographs…they both preserve and imitate moments that no longer are. The writer of words perhaps intends to preserve thoughts, ideas, memories but for what purpose? Is the writer of words writing for the other or the self? Is the photographer recording a visual object for the other to see or for the self to preserve that which was somehow significant at a given moment in time? Once words are published or photographs printed where is the author or photographer? Perhaps the author/photographer is allowed the luxury ofabsence , of withdrawing from the object of the work breathing new life into the work itself thereby allowing the work to breath anew each time it is read or viewed.
In the foothills of the Rocky Mountains near Loveland, Colorado is the Devil’s Backbone formation. This shot, taken as the sun was setting nearly directly behind my camera provided a warm glow and long shadows, the dream of any landscape photographer.
I have been thinking lately about the Zen koan about the novice who approached his master complaining that he was not able to reach enlightenment. The master asked, “Have you had your supper?” The novice replied, “Of course, we ate together.” The master then admonished quietly, “Then do your dishes.” The novice was immediately enlightened.
I was exploring the Salt River Canyon on US 60 (see earlier post) on a pull-off on the Southern edge of the canyon. I shot the wider vistas, the river, the canyon walls and the like mostly using HDR and then, following my usual instincts, I decided to look more closely at the parts that make up the whole. The flora at the rim of the canyon where I was parked were in full bloom, the light was just right and the opportunities for deconstructing the whole were abundant.
Macro landscapes afford a different look at the world we occupy. Looking closely requires a division of space and place that both challenges and expands ones vision. Moving in close requires one to look carefully, to explore the details that otherwise may be taken for granted and, in doing so, extends ones vision in unexpected ways.
Looking at the landscape goes beyond the broad, sweeping scenic turnoff on the interstate or the points in national parks where parking lots are strategically placed to offer the most scenic views. The landscape demands seeing the big picture but it also requires one to look closely, to explore the small, the macro units that make up the broader beauty of the earth. Looking at smaller bits is something akin to experiencing moments as they occur. The macro image frozen in time is the now of the landscape. The individual flower, its parts, combine with other individual plants, rocks, grains of sand, pebbles, droplets of dew, and so on to make the broader vista with which we are more familiar.
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With permission, you may use images published in this blog for non-commercial purposes so long as you do not alter the image in any way and you attribute proper credit to Roger Passman with a link to this blog.
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