Good
#1000Steps Montage
“What is good, Phaedrus, And what is not good - Need we ask anyone to tell us these things?”
(Robert Pirsig)
“That would make a good photo…”
It’s a common refrain. So we reach for our phones as a beautiful sunset or an amusing scenario unfolds before us.
Yet as I’ve photographed my local surroundings during the #1000Steps project, I’ve deliberately given up on ‘good’ and have found instead, learning, engagement, participation and connection. As a ‘trained’ photographer, I can easily succumb to ‘good’; I’ve seen enough photographs to know what to look for and I have the requisite technical skills to ‘capture’ (or, actually, construct) an image in the camera.
But, instead, as I’ve wandered within 1000 steps of my door, I’ve chosen to press the shutter button whenever I feel an embodied sense of ‘catching’ my breath; a moment of literal inspiration.
Before I have a chance to compose, analyse or assess, I raise my camera and click.
And as I've reviewed the images, publishing one each day on Twitter and Instagram, I’ve noticed new sensitivities, qualities of discernment if you like, arising in my relationship to the place I call home; a rural village enclosed within my 1000 step limitation.
The most obvious shift is in my sense of geography and locale; there are significant areas where I have never, even in 20 years, walked or wandered. So I’m coming to know the village in a different, ‘felt’ way, that anchors me more securely to my ‘place,’ and I feel an emerging sense of belonging that has been otherwise absent.
I’ve also been confronted by time. Autumn is a season of obvious visual shifts, especially away from the built environment of our cities, and as a seasonal red and golden palette has turned to monochrome, I’ve felt a closer engagement with life; I’m seeing the very processes of renewal happen before me.
But perhaps most significantly, I’ve bumped up against my sense of aesthetic judgement. I notice the pull of what is conventionally ‘good,’ the fear of publishing ‘bad’ photographs, the risk and vulnerability in disclosure, and a conflict in how my sense of ‘good’ immediately compromises my sense of ‘true.’ Or, maybe, conflicts with a more whole, unedited sense of ‘what is…’
Which seems to have enormous implications for a change professional.
We so often ask, “What would good look like…?”
And in that moment, reduce the wider possibility for true insight, connection and change.
Notes:
We are rarely far from phones with more ‘camera power’ than we can imagine. So, a challenge… Look at your camera roll and ‘notice what you notice’ about your images. Then, allow yourself some time to walk/wander/wonder and just ‘click’ away on moments of curiosity, in-breath, confusion… #NoFilter #NoEditing … And later, as you look back, ‘notice what you notice’ about how your camera roll has changed…
My Pirsig quote is from ‘Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance'.’ The front cover of my crumbling copy is missing now and loose pages fall way without too much hesitation. The book is an inquiry into quality; an emotional and philosophical road trip which was touted as ‘explosive’ when first published. I rather like Pirsig’s opening note, ‘….it should in no way be associated with the great body of factual information relating to orthodox Zen practice. It’s not very factual on motorcycles either.’
Finally, a note from the opening pages of ‘Photography and the Art of Seeing,’ Freeman Patterson says that: ‘Letting go of self is an essential condition to real seeing… […]… when you let go, new conceptions arise from your direct experience of the subject matter, and new ideas and feelings will guide you…”
See Also:
Soul
On the days when nothing is making sense, I resort to making art.
Sometimes, I write. Mostly, I photograph.
I feel into whatever is softly whispering to me; then let my mind wander a little, dropping the agenda of the senseless workday, and begin to make images.
This week, I realised how long I had been waiting for the apple tree outside our kitchen window to blossom. It’s a late starter and always keeps us nervously waiting so I was really delighted to use the process of photography to focus, explore my thoughts and reconnect with myself…
My 'fork in the road' photograph came in handy for 'the things I feel gratitude for' Twitter challenge.
As I look back at my own seven images and the postings by other nominees, I'm struck by how mundane and ordinary the source of our appreciation is: a blue sky, a bowl of fruit, our pets, flowers, trees, a shadow on a wall.... (Note: no humans or explanations allowed!)
But today I walked along the track in the wood and the fork had gone.
It does that…