Why I Photo: Part V
The final archive
Every photographer knows that their lens is a manipulation of what they see; carefully controlling what gets in and what recedes from view. Photographs tell a half-lit story, encased in a frame, constructed solely by the one who operates the shutter.
Photographs have the power to change what we think we know- a tinted kind of graffiti- imposed on the human psyche. Thats why I like to craft my scene carefully, using an imaginary filter that helps me blend into the background while I consciously practice non-aggression with my lens.
So come, take a walk with me- inside my prismatic reality- behind these make-believe walls there’s a world I’d like to reveal. Step in carefully though- these are not spaces I often share. This is where I come to revel in the parts of me that are unknown to the outer world. In here is where my softer self seeks sanctuary -where the quiet blunts the jabbering- where the silence helps me sink into that pithy place of awareness. In here is where I am free.
I like to photo places that have been forsaken- worn down and striped of their utility. A hearth, once kept warm -a shelter from the elements- still here long after it’s inhabitants have exited the scene. I like to think of it as a visual excavation of souls. There must be something of our former selves to unearth, an attachment to the past, if I listen intently and search long enough. I ask:
Who lived here before?
The question echos into unfamiliar territory and momentarily I am rendered, a stranger to myself. No matter which way I turn this lens, I can’t find the frame that will contain my amorphous being within this abandoned homestead and yet, I feel already known by something I perceive but cannot see. Careful now, as you enter -this ground is sacred to me- so please, tread dutifully.
This is the abode where I come to practice the art of being- holy aware and fully embodied. It’s not the temple most may seek. I imagine some will cringe- sensing this place to be unsavory- not an atonement of peace but a measure of our limitations and the inevitable decomposition of our toils.
True, it’s nothing like the Seven Wonders or Pompeii but for me, this is a place of homage -the way the gutted windows frame these trees- a reversal of the human-nature exchange. This is where I come to honor simplicity- not to rise above- not to memorialize- but to be with- the questions that beget no answers. There is nothing here to erect; it’s more a being one with the debris and the parts that remain unseen.
Now watch your step. In here is my canvas of muted soles, chattering amongst the ruins of painted time. If you listen closely you can hear the echoing of their laughs and cries, sense their worries and regret -intuit their secrets kept- by the kindling of sky-governed branches.
The lady fern has not yet found her way in, but eventually she will, uncoiling her ventricles and muffling these voices still. She will populate this forest floor- moistening it once more- and these tones will then be siphoned into silence as though they had never been before.
I place my hands on stone, plant my feet on concrete, listen to the vibrations coursing through me and question: what was once here and what now needs resurrecting?
If I were to take a self-portrait it would be here- but not of my body- it would be the brick and mortar sinking into this earth, an introspection of the crumbling hidden parts that still linger amongst this forrest of forgotten memories.
I frequent this well of solitude often to seek refuge for my quieter parts. In this centered place the words come to find me -like a trail of distant whispers- they reveal themselves as a tickling, taunting mystery. Though I know they will slip away (mostly) unseen, I string them together anyway. This is how I pray.
The photo -I now realize- is the conduit which brings me to this place of worship. It’s how I return to stillness, bringing me back to this authentic space where I feel most humbly alive and in tune with all the living vibrations that ordinarily escape me.
“There is a voice that doesn’t use words. Listen.” -Rumi
©Breathe & Be Still
Why I Photo is a 5-part photo narrative that explores the art of photography as a vehicle for authenticity and present-moment awareness. For me, photography is an art form that (when practiced mindfully) helps to reduce the ego back down to its diminutive size.
Follow the link below to read more from this series. It’s intended to be read chronologically.
Why I Photo: A counterculture clash with the selfie
