The finished photographs hang on white gallery walls. A new landscape collection of horizontal images is matted and framed. The room is full of warmth, light and color. The photographs seem to sit on the wall in solace, but with an abundance of energy they seem to dance on them at the same time. These photographs showcase the Earth’s beauty and bounty through Mother Nature’s sometimes fury and sometimes caress. Patrons and art collectors mill about in the pleasantly warm room to enjoy the finality of capture. They speak of emotion, contrast, humility and awesomeness. But are they truly aware?
Why do we do it? Why does anyone do it? Why does anyone do anything for that matter? What is it all for anyway? Is it for a capture of supposed time? Is it the quest for the prize-winning photograph or the million dollar image? Is it to see what has not before been seen. Is it to share with others who otherwise may never see? Is it a quest for the quenching delight of true understanding? Is it part of a journey toward realizing the nature of emptiness? Or is it simply a practice of awareness?
While photographic art is undoubtedly viewed in comfort, it is very often created through discomfort. This could be either physical or emotional discomfort, or both. In many cases, this discomfort had escalated into pain. This suffering was part of the creation of the art itself, but often it is not conveyed into the final piece. As a landscape photographer, I understand the requirements of a good photograph. A photograph that invokes the viewer and one that places her into the scene. As if she were standing right next to the photographer. The photographer is not the creator of the landscape scene, but is humbly the capturer of it. He often is also the protector of the viewer, so long as the landscape scene is being viewed.
As much power as a photograph can employ with regards to communicating emotion or relating to the senses, it simultaneously protects the viewer from such. Landscape photography is challenging to say the least. Not only is it incredibly difficult to sell landscape photography at the level to sustain a decent living, much less repair and replace the gear required, it requires a tremendous dedication of the photographer to capture great shots. The wonderful photograph that hangs on the white gallery wall, the one being admired by countless viewers, the one that adorns the magazine cover, the one that shares with the viewer a far off place that was previously only available through imagination, is the photograph that was……….
……..shot by a photographer who likely traveled at great expense to a particular destination for a particular shot a couple of dozen times before conditions warranted the pressing of the shutter button. The photographer who camped in sub-freezing weather overnight to then hike for many miles through biting wind or blowing snow in the dark to arrive before daybreak so that he could properly prepare for the rising of the sun. The photographer who scrambles up rock with over thirty pounds of gear on his back, balancing his weight at he navigates dangerous terrain for the best angle. The photographer whose hand and fingers are so cold that they can barely operate the camera’s controls while in the Arctic, or who is fighting searing heat or humidity or the relentless attack of insects to expose the wonder of the jungle. To this effect, the photographer brings to his viewer a beautiful landscape scene while also protecting him from it.
The question remains, why? Why do we do it? What is the gain, if there truly is any? Some may say it is a love for something. There is no place that I would rather be than in the great outdoors. There is no other physical activity that I enjoy more than those that take place in the great outdoors. I am an artist and I create art. When I combine all of these loves together, I behave as a landscape photographer with not a single care in the world. My work often takes me to extremes. Some are measured with pleasure and some are measured with pain. All of them are not for any purpose, but at the same time none of them lack any purpose at all. All of them are part of my training to become more aware.
We are all participants in this world (dream) that we find ourselves in. How we participate is a matter of our own personal journey. Great photography captures an indescribable essence. Great photography conveys what falls short of speech. For the photographer, sometimes it is not so much the capture that is the reward but the journey of the capture. When sharing a part of this journey, we become the presenter. When we produce the art through our experience of the affiliated suffering, but that suffering is not transferred to the viewer, we become the protector.
an empty blog 