Photography - ways of seeing and mindfulness

Sep 29, 2016
5 min read

Kodachrome

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pLsDxvAErTU

When I think back On all the crap I learned in high school It’s a wonder I can think at all And though my lack of education Hasn’t hurt me none I can read the writing on the wall

Kodachrome They give us those nice bright colors They give us the greens of summers Makes you think all the world’s A sunny day, oh yeah I got a Nikon camera I love to a photograph So mama, don’t take my Kodachrome away

If you took all the girls I knew When I was single And brought them all together For one night I know they’d never match My sweet imagination Everything looks worse In black and white

Photography and ways of seeing

Kodachrome was a type of film made by Kodak between around 1935 and 2010 (dates taken from Wikipedia so may or may not be accurate). It was one of the first commercially successful colour films and it was a highly popular for several decades. It produced rich, deep and vivid colours (at this time, the use of colour photography was also considered to be somewhat vulgar in certain art and professional photography circles, partly due to its popular appeal). Although Paul Simon wrote the song in 1973, there was much existing discourse on the role of photography in society and the ways in which it has the ability to distort reality. At the time, photography was moving into the homes of the masses and becoming the populist pastime it is today. As the saying goes, anyone who owns a camera can call themselves a photographer.

At first, this song seems to follow the cynical view of photography that is described in Susan Sontag's seminal work that speaks about the voyeuristic nature of the photographer. Sontag suggests that the act of taking photos replaces the actual experience [insert more details]. Many photographers will say that this is not the case, and I would certainly agree. For me, when I am intentional in my photography, when I feel my way, photography actually heightens my connection to those fleeting moments in life. It is helping me to be present over perfect.

This is where the phrase, 'ways of seeing' comes in. It is well documented (in the fields of psychology, anthropology, theology, and neuroscience for example) that humans understand the world as it relates to themselves. We instinctively understand an experience with reference to all of our previous experiences. These experiences are entirely personal and so no-one can experience the world in the same way. This has far reaching consequences on our actions and how we connect with other people. This topic really interests me and I could ramble of for a long time, but I shan't. I shall come back to photography and the song.

John Berger, in his book and tv series, 'Ways of Seeing' says that:

Seeing comes before words. The child looks and recognizes before it can speak. But there is also another sense in which seeing comes before words. It is seeing which establishes our place in the surrounding world; we explain that world with words, but words can never undo the fact that we are surrounded by it. The relation between what we see and what we know is never settled. Each evening we see the sun set. We know that the earth is turning away from it. Yet the knowledge, the explanation, never quite fits the sight……………

The way we see things is affected by what we know or what we believe. In the Middle Ages when men believed in the physical existence of Hell the sight of fire must have meant something different from what it means today. Nevertheless their idea of Hell owed a lot to the sight of fire consuming and the ashes remaining - as well as to their experience of the pain of burns.

When in love, the sight of the beloved has a completeness which no words and no embrace can match : a completeness which only the act of making love can temporarily accommodate. Yet this seeing which comes before words, and can never be quite covered by them, is not a question of mechanically reacting to stimuli. (It can only be thought of in this way if one isolates the small part of the process which concerns the eye’s retina.) We only see what we look at. To look is an act of choice.

Photography and mindfulness

My choice is to see try and see the world (and myself and my place in it) in a more mindful way. Photography helps me do this. Learning to understand the way the lens sees the world, helps me do this. How? I think that most photographers would agree that it all starts with the light. My emotions have always been closely connected to the quality of light (be it day light or artificial light). Waking up to the sun streaming through the windows is a deeply joyful experience for me. Early morning light is so full of hope and expectation for the day ahead. Usually, it is also accompanied by a joyful chorus of birdsong. On the other hand, while I appreciate the beauty of a sunset, I distinctly remember the deep sense of sadness and foreboding that I felt during those long English summer as the light gradually seeps out of the day. This was also accompanied by birdsong. The solitary lament of a wood pigeon. On artificial light - florescent lights give me headaches (the bad kind that also make you go blind and can't be cured with painkillers). I also have a physical aversion to overhead lighting and at home I rely on lamp light.

Photography has added a new, analytical, dimension to the way I experience light. The moment that all of your experiences become grounded around the quality of the light that illuminates us is at any given moment is the moment that something shifts inside you (or, at least it did for me).

The next step for me is detail. Many of you will not be surprised to hear how much joy and significance I derive out of small details. Sometimes, this is not always helpful as it taps into my obsessive and perfectionist side. Through the lens I am learning to experience detail in a more mindful way. That is to say that I am learning to properly see and note the beautiful, plain and downright ugly details of life, and accept them as they are. It's a journey.