Friday 13 November 2015

it's raining....

.....it's pouring

which means no early morning camera-walk through the lanes and into new neighbourhoods.




When the winter rains began last year, I took a series of photographs in our downstairs bathroom; our white linen shower curtain, black and white tiled floor and  reflections in our full-length mirror.  At that time, I was struggling with the exhaustion often associated with  fibro myalgia and my camera was the vehicle that kept me engaged. (29 March 2015  com.mon.place)

Photographing curtains and sofa cushions and walking down our lane and back again was something I could do.

Now, taking pictures is not only what I can do,  it has become something I must do!

I find another, deeper way of seeing when I am with my camera. I am aware of the dirty corner of concrete where fallen leaves collect, the geometric line of an overhanging roof and its shadow, reflections gathered in puddles and in store-front windows.

Yesterday I stayed with a single tree for 45 minutes.  Silently moving and leaning and touching the leaves, I took more than 100 photographs.  I have always believed that I couldn't meditate, but it was only the cushion and the sitting still that I couldn't seem to manage.  No one had said that photography could quiet my mind without the Zafu






David duChemin, self-described  'photographer nomad author', talks about what he considers 'two of the most significant keys to creativity' - curiosity and constraints.


My present constraint involves patterning.   I see patterns everywhere: in the layering of leaves on the huge weeping beech down the street and on a tree's shadow cast upon a painted wall, standing beside its living partner.  I see the designs sunlight casts upon the corrugated siding of a commercial building, and the streaks of light squeezing through the slates of a window blind.



Observing is not enough, however.  I wish my photographs to show not only what I see, but also how I see it.  To be a reflection of who I truly am.

I am learning to notice when I take a series of pictures that, while well-designed and technically good, do not show my inner self.  They feel aloof.  While I don't delete them yet,  it is hardly likely that I will print them.

The rain has stopped.