As
the cricket's soft Autumn hum
is
to us
so
are we to the trees
as
are they
to
the rocks and hills.
Gary
Snyder.
The
last time I walked along the mountainside trail at Burgoyne Bay it
was early Spring, all fresh leaves and hope for the year ahead. Today
it is the depths of winter's short days and long nights, tired
grasses and bare tree branches. An overcast landscape with fog
lifting into cloud. For me, this has more potential for my
photography that any sunny cheerful day can provide: art is about
things other than the happy and beautiful and thought can find more
traction in this soft inexact world; shy little semi-formed ideas
raise their heads and whisper in my ear and the odd-end bits of the
complexity of nature reveal themselves if my mind is prepared.
As
the path climbs upwards the fog increases, and ordinary trees and
boulders swim into a new and separated existence. The complexity of
backgrounds is softened and even the near is interestingly imprecise.
The nominally unimportant has stepped forward into prominence.
Down
at sea level once again, an eagle calls insistently from a treetop, a
line of ducks fly past and up in the fog another eagle appears. It is tempting to frame all this from my personal perspective:
to see the world as though it is a moving circle that surrounds me
and I and my camera are the central players on this stage. I cannot
avoid this reality but I must not frame the world in this
egocentric way: better to see my little figure from those ducks
perspective, a quick flash of form out the corner of the eye as they
sweep past the point fully committed to duck business.
The
granite headland too has a solid presence that exists outside of my
own existence, that is what I see as I take its photograph, as do the
old oak trees with their rough bark and twisted limbs. A green rock
lies just below the surface of the cold clear water framed by a fir
bough; here is one of those quiet little thoughts that can emerge on
a day like this. And the ripples curve out greeny towards the orange
stained granite rocks.
Today
I am finding grey-gold; the landscape matches mood, everything comes
together.
Our own life is the instrument
with which we experiment with truth.
Thich Nhat Hanh
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