LISTENING TO THE LANDSCAPE
I've been noticing a subtle, yet fundamental shift in my photography over the last few months. Some would say it's my upgrade to a DSLR, some would say it's my increasing mastery over the camera's settings and capabilities, some would say it's the thousands of throw-away shots that have honed my vision. Some would be wrong.
A few years back, I traded in my pen for a camera. I mistakenly thought I was displacing darkness for light, but in reality I partially blinded my insight. The singular focus on visual art muted my sensory acuity save for the composition and lighting directly informing the image in the viewfinder. The development of a "good eye" is imperative for the exploration of photographic opportunities - lens choice, aperture, and distance can invite the viewer into the delicate mysteries of a flower or the brooding edge of inclement weather; shutter speed, ISO, and filters can freeze the wings of a butterfly or turn churning rapids into creamy dreams, but gear, settings, and technique can only see so far.
In a previous post, I wrote about the "flow" of finding novel juxtapositions of light and atmosphere where time and everyday perceptions melt away. Until recently, I would find myself obsessively searching, searching, searching for the next image to drown "Me" in that flood.
Lately though, since I've made a commitment to this blog, my photography has quieted from its earnest rush and my writing yawns and stretches, re-awakening the unseen sounds, smells, tastes, touches, as well as a felt sense of connection with the natural world. Photography helps me see the way through, writing deciphers the map, both need the immersion of the souls of my feet in trail dust and vernal pools.
You get the picture.
Love your pictures and your narratives. Really makes me stop and appreciate the beauty all around me. This picture is one of my favs :) Keep them coming
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