Photographic visions during the pandemic

One thing I’ve learned during the pandemic about my passion for photography: I may be self-quarantining and I may not be able to travel or take day trips like I used to, but more than ever I’ve discovered that there is a universe of subjects, objects, landscapes and scenes of daily life to photograph right in my back garden, literally, and within an hour’s drive from where I live downtown.  In very close proximity to me  are the gardens, beautiful old houses and architectural gems in the historic city where I live, and within walking distance or a short drive, are four city and state parks and a huge county Nature park, each with unending photo possibilities.   I have the city for street photography, and the parks for Nature photography.

One must have an observing and watchful eye for the seemingly smallest and most mundane objects and subjects (which are quite the opposite of mundane, actually), as well as for the larger vistas and compositions that form windows for looking at the world from 360 degrees.   The camera becomes almost literally an extension of the eyes.

When I write poetry or personal essays, writing becomes my preferred art form.  When I am out anywhere taking pictures, photography becomes my sole art form, my way of expressing myself artistically.  While I may never be well known, I consider myself an artist with a camera , just as much as a painter in her studio with oil paints and an easel.

I went back to my paper journal and read an entry from Dec. 3, 1979.   I found this written about the poet Goethe:  It seems that two qualities are necessary if a great artist is to remain creative to the end of a long life:  he must, on the one hand, retain an abnormally keen awareness of life; and he must never grow complacent, never be content with life…the burden of the mystery must be with him day and night.  He must be shaken by the naked truths that will not be comforted.  This divine discontent, this disequilibrium, this state of inner tension, is the source of artistic energy.

Humphrey Trevelyan (November 27, 1905–February 9, 1985) in his introduction to the 1949 edition of Goethe’s autobiography, Truth and Fantasy from My Life 

In response to that I wrote this:  This eloquent statements reflects the common bond that those rare individuals with true artistic temperament share. It is more than mere heightened sensitivity or the capacity to have deep emotions and feelings. My passion for photography now supersedes any other form of artistic endeavor I have attempted in the past. It is my desire, realized at last in action, to channel haphazard seeing and observation into a more disciplined practice which cultivates and gives special meaning to the gift of careful observation. With each photograph, unique in its own way, comes a special  means of creating something that moves beyond the commonplace into the realm of complexity, being, and knowing. My poetry and short stories come only at times of extraordinary introversion, melancholy, and self analysis. Photography, though, does not have to be carried along by mood and temperament any given time. It is a release, a chance to create,  less the creative process become inactive and wither. 

That was 41 years ago, and looking back today I can say that that I have pretty much adhered to that vision of photography.  It has been my artistic outlet, especially for the past nine months as I’ve quarantined during this awful time of the pandemic.  But this time of withdrawal and introspection has also enriched my creative process, as almost every day I try to express and interpret the life unfolding before me through taking pictures.  And being retired, I can devote as much or as little time to it as I want.

I have gone through hundreds of photographs taking since March 12, 2020 and up until yesterday.  March 12 I will never forget is the day last year when I made my last trips to all my usual stores and even a visit to the car dealership to get my Honda Civic checked out.  From that day until now I have refrained from going inside any public place, including grocery stores, unless I’ve absolutely had to.  Years from now if I’m still around, I’ll be wondering about what these photographs say about that strange time, and about me.

Photographic Visions, Volumes 1 and 2:

https://www.flickr.com/gp/camas/h6dQ99

https://www.flickr.com/gp/camas/7E31cX