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"The scent of an unseen flower - news from a counry we haven't visited" (C.S. Lewis)


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<p>Kenneth Tynan, the British theatre critic, chose for his epitaph a sermon of C.S. Lewis, in which the latter apparently spoke of all the knowledge and perceptions he had accumulated during his lifetime, and the fact that the thing he sought was not at all to be found in the "baggage" (my word) of art and beauty he had been privileged to access, but in the vision of what he wished to experience. Like "The scent of an unseen flower" or "news from of a counry we haven't visited".</p>

<p>How pertinent do you think this ideal of a quest is to the photographer. We are overwhelmed with amateur and professional photos of the half dome in Yellowstone Park, since Ansel Adams immortalised its (his) visual effect. We see multiple photographs of rows of Aspens, or Bill Brandt style nudes, or rotting cars in a pasture. There is nothing wrong in reproducing similar images or attempting something new using the same views or subjects. On the other hand, the unseen and the unknown are to my way of thinking very powerful attractions for the photographer and artist. In her book, "The Hidden Mountain" (a rough translation from the original French title), the great Canadian writer Gabrielle Roy presents a struggling artist who disdains the well worn paths of his Montreal and then Paris art apprenticeships to go off into the wilds in search of a fabled and impressive hidden mountain in the far north (Ungava). He encounters all forms of hardships in his frugal travels over many years, but is driven by what he hasn't seen and must see.</p>

<p>Is it important to you to seek the unseen and to photograph it? Perhaps it is something you are looking for or perhaps even more absract. Is the scent of an unknown and yet unseen flower a stimulus for your hobby or profession? Are you driven by your appreciation of the usual, or by the challenge of the unusual or unexperienced?</p>

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<p>Having spent most of my life geographically on the move in search of it, and found it as often at home as anywhere else, I've personally come to the opinion that: yes, the unseeen and unknown is the essence ... but that it is to be found, if at all, rarely and in brief and ineffable flashes, inside me, whether I am in Komi or Kettering.<br>

I suspect that the search, not its quarry, is the real subject.</p><div>00RrjG-99555684.jpg.f5f7df1bc1faa66b316498ca4abedd97.jpg</div>

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<p>I think it is right that the essence of photography is to show something that has not been seen before. But this something goes far beyond an object, subject or phenomenon. Photography is much more unless we all are in the postcard business. Why would Claude Monet paint more than 40 oil paintings of the Gothic cathedral in Rouen, Normandy between 1882 and 1884, if it was not because he, by the painting, tried to express something that went beyond showing the church. In fact I believe that when I shoot a photo of the Eiffel tower (no comparison with Monet!), I have failed if the first connotation the viewer makes when looking at the photo, is to the tower !<br>

I therefore follow Felix, when he draws the conclusion after having gone far away to find this novel scene for photography that he just as often finds this something in his back yard. </p>

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<p>Sorry for the typo in the title that should read "country". The post refers to the unseen, but this can also be taken I think to refer to an "as yet unrealised, or uncommon view or treatment" of very common subjects, such as one's back yard (one of Freeman Patterson's favourite examples of significant photographic challlenges), the Rouen cathedral or Gustav Eiffel's tower. </p>

<p>Monet succeeded in abstracting the light faling on the well-known cathedral, in a manner none had achieved before. I have yet to see a very unique picture based on the Eiffel tower, while recognising the very fine treatments that Anders has done in his Paris portfolio. It is extremely difficut to produce an image of it that doesn't say "this is the Eiffel tower" rather than something that says, "hey this may well be the famous tower, but what I see is something that is much more than that or that strikes me emotionally". Sort of like the famous color photo of the St. Louis arch. I think there is an equally famous B&W photo by a French photographer of an Eiffel tower painter poised like a dancer on a tower element, with his brush extended like a conductor's baton. Perhaps an as yet "unseen" visual interpretation of the tower will exploit its intricate webwork of steel (as in a close up), or abstract the structure, maybe in a multi image collage?</p>

<p>Anyway, my feelings on the profound quote of C.S. Lewis quote are not important in this post. I look forward to your thoughts on the question and its pertinence to expressive photography. </p>

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<p>perhaps hdr has something to contribute in this field. sometimes, the mundane and previously seen could be presented in a new light through this medium? truth be said, i find most hdr work to be horrid.<br>

narnia aside, lewis was rather ordinary. his theology is nothing new or exciting. try reading the allegory of love. mindnumbing crap to be precise. i think we should let the sermon stay at the pulpit and go out and shoot more.</p>

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<p>Arthur, I agree with you that the Eiffel tower is almost always what wefirst of all see when someone shoots the tower, including me, but when Monet painted Rouen Catherdral we saw something else although he himself was in despair and never managed what he set out to do. Thought, he died in hope and not disappointment, to use John fine formulation.<br /> The point is that no over-photographed scene is off-limit for someone that takes photography seriously. I have myself more interest in those that try to create somethng new by shooting something known, than in those that hope to show a five-legged pig in order to be noticed. I think it is a question of philosophy of life - or of photography if you wish.<br /> I'll try again with a photo of the Eiffel tower still hoping that someone sees what I see!</p><div>00Rs5t-99719584.jpg.30a861d3c8c4a415bfe5eab52a00239b.jpg</div>
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<p>"The post refers to the unseen, but this can also be taken I think to refer to an "as yet unrealised, or uncommon view or treatment" of very common subjects".<br>

Hi Anders. Your posted Eiffel tower image is a fine example of that. I share your opinion about the challenge of photographing the known. Uncommon creations from the known, like your tower photo, are also products of what we wish to experience beyond what we had exprienced to that point. They too can be considered as "the scent of an unknown (undiscovered) flower."</p>

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<p>If one is trying to "present" a location, it will be hard to provide something new or unique. Picture postcards of most well-known "locations" are ubiquitous. If one is using a location in order to express something via a photograph, newness may be more readily available, because of the uniqueness of the individual doing the expressing. If a photo is about something more than the location, the location may simply act as a springboard. I don't think Yosemite, for example, is yet exhausted of possibilities, but most picture-takers there are recreating (either what they've seen or what Adams saw), not creating. If they were to use those peaks and valleys to create something, it could be freshly seen.</p>
We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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Arthur

 

It is a very interesting subject. I think that as we say here "each human being is a full world" so creating/art has to look first inside to find an inner voice, and than it is a very important searching what is behind the mountain. It is a journey, an unending one, It is a quest with many stations on the road, I don't think a real artist will ever arrive to the last one, because if he will think he does, he will rest on his" bay wreath" ,I think that the quest is the main component of trying to create meaningful art, in Photography as in every form of expression. It does not say that an artist will /must create the wheel anew.... I agree with Anders that it can be a fresh look of a known subject, " colored " by another look. But the road is always long and can /may take a whole creating life.

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<p>"...but most picture-takers there are recreating (either what they've seen or what Adams saw)"</p>

<p>When I lived in a National Park tourist town, one of the local photographers of some reknown tells about how camera-tourists would not only want to know what he shot with and at what settings, but the precise spot where he stood to take the photo. Some locations, like Delicate Arch, just naturally lead to a certain spot, both pros and camera-tourists usually shoot from there just because it is convenient. They are all probably unaware of what they are doing.</p>

<p> </p>

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<p>Anders: "...hoping someone sees what I see." Yes.</p>

<p>My hope for significance does suggest the need for "someone" to recognize it. And of course, I would have to accept that they actually did recognize it.</p>

<p>Some of us regularly argue that the "someone" (else) is unnecessary...but that's always a direct cop-out.</p>

<p>Is there a more subtle, or more "international" way to express "cop-out?"</p>

<p>I don't know my own hopes well-enough to share them as meaningfully as through life itself, and perhaps through my photographs. In fact, my hopes are explorations that inherently cannot find ends.</p>

<p>Hopes might be approximated by a poet, but cannot be approached philosophically: Significant things are inherently too fine for its linear logic, a blunt instrument. Photography, like poetry (song, dance, theatre) offers more hope for "significance."</p>

<p>Potential for "hope" is one of the markers for "art." Because it is complete in itself, even at the most superficial level, beauty is not relevant to art. Photography has the potential to be "art," just as it has the potential to offer hope. But photography is not by itself "an art," just as photographs summarized as beautiful are not art.</p>

<p> </p>

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<p>"Beauty" is completely relevant to art. (That assumes one recognizes how it's being used. It's, of course, not limited to contemporary and simplistic notions of "beautiful.")<br>

<br />The great thing about philosophy is that it can approach anything it wants any way it wants. Only a misunderstanding of or unsubstantiatable prejudice against philosophy would allow one to conclude otherwise.</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p>I inadvertantly diverted attention from Anders' lovely and poetic photographic idea by mentioning "philosophy."</p>

<p>"scent of an unseen flower" is a poetic phenomenon, directly comprehended. Like some photographs, it is directly antithetical to analysis.</p>

<p>I'm sure some philosopher would attempt to address "scent of an unseen flower" (would remind me of the Jamaican bobsled team!) but he'd write at incredible and diversionary length: his goal would be to lose readers, rather than move them. His ultimate dodge would be reference to obscure texts, in order to avoid personal expression.</p>

<p>Someone said that when Martin Luther broke wind in Wittenberg it was smelled in Rome: a powerful, if crude, expression. "Scent of an unseen flower" is another powerful expression. Philosophy seeks to weaken language by avoiding powerful expressions.</p>

 

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<p>Arthur-<br>

Unless I'm reading the posts incorrectly (quite possible I'm half-asleep) I think many people are missing the "greater good" that comes from taking photographs, no matter the subject. When we are photographing, we are moving, thinking, assigning a task to ourselves, our brains. We are engrossed in the moment- the weather, the tourists walking in front of our lens, batteries running low, travel, espresso on the Champs-elysees, our feet tired from standing all day, the smell of crepes freshly cooked, the sunset quickly dissolving into night and a zillion other things making the shooting EXPERIENCE complete. I suggest that the character in Roy's book isn't at all driven to see the mountain, its just a destination, rather he is enjoying the trip instead. I have over a hundred rolls I shot in 2000 in NYC, that are still un-processed, and may never be. Granted, if I had money at the time I would have processed it all, but I didn't. I look back at the experience of shooting with no less enjoyment. It was about the moment- for me- not for others to look at or understand- but for me alone. I became a better photographer, no doubt, and I don't even know what I shot! :)</p>

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<p>"The scent of an unseen flower"<br />"Potential for "hope" is one of the markers for "art."<br />I think that both are destinations., markers of a road, the intention to arrive....<br>

"Beauty" is completely relevant to art."<br />I also think it is relevant , but in the form of inner radiation.</p>

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<p>Hi Martin,</p>

<p>The process of making the picture, with all the parameters you mention, and more, is indeed enjoyable. I think that the trip is only a part of it, though. There is another "trip" that occurs in the mind of an artist, and that is probably different for each person.</p>

<p>As Pnina said, "I think that the quest is the main component of trying to create meaningful art". The mind trip is all about that, and about relating what we may want to photograph with who we are, and how we think. Pierre, the artist in Roy's book, is driven by the desire to make a great painting, which in his mind equates with finding the mountain he has heard about, has imagined, but had not seen. I read Madame Roy's book while waiting in hospital for a heart artery bypass operation. I can smile now, but the story ends with the driven artist finding his cherished mountain, only to succumb then to a heart attack. I think Lewis was also referring to something that has been mentioned here, that an artist never fully attains everything that he or she quests, but the attitude and journey is the thing.</p>

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I think an artists mind has to be completely alone and by itself, to become anonymous...and isolated from the wrongfully / thruthfully

percieved significance of influence and interference of others before this mythic ( impossible ? ) search for the unseen can begin. There has

to be a state of mind free of the "me", wich, is only there to conform. The artist has to embrace the daring idea of striving for the complete

loss of identity through his/her art, a paradox since many artists, if not all, want to give at least some substance to their identity through art.

 

 

 

 

 

 

-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Photography in the way it's mostly used as a medium, can merely hint at the slight possibility of the existence of " the unseen ", but it can

not lift the curtain high enough to actually reveal it, and even if it could, it's always bound by that what is seen and photographed, a

predetermined set of stuctures and symbols that is the world.

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<p>Arthur-<br>

I agree. The journey is the thing. To get to more of the original post, isn't every time we shoot unique? Without taking a new approach, it is still unique in its moment and therefore to the individual. We could try our damnedest to imitate an artists image (a common school assignment) and still never get it. I do always try to take "new" pictures and see new things, but I also try to improve my approach to doing so, especially when photographing a popular subject.<br>

Commercially, I am driven to bring a new approach to a subject that has essentially been done time and again, which basically requires having an appreciation of it. It forces me to uphold the standards of very talented photographers (or else you can lose the client, right?). My fine art forces me to grow as a photographer and expand my understanding of the medium as a whole- I set my own standards and am driven by the continual need to both capture and express something that even I am not sure is attainable or even fully comprehensible. One is rigid and the other fluid. Both are about a moment - something that is ultimately ephemeral - and therein lies the beauty of photography.</p>

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<p>"unless I'm reading the posts incorrectly...I think many people are missing the "greater good" that comes from taking photographs, no matter the subject." -Martin S.</p>

<p>No...the responses have been closer to the point than "greater good."</p>

<p>Arthur P wasn't concerned with "greater good"....he asked a MOTIVATION question...how are we are "driven?"</p>

<p>" Are you driven by your appreciation of the usual, or by the challenge of the unusual or unexperienced?" - Arthur P.</p>

<p>That's not a question about the pleasures one takes, or the benefits one obtains...</p>

<p>Those could all be worthwhile Topics, but they don't seem quite as significant as "scent of unseen flowers."</p>

<p>This wasn't Arthur's point either, but "scent of unseen flowers" reminds me of Marcel Proust (who I can't fully appreciate, not being competent in French): Swann, his protagonist, famously had a rush of memory when he smelled a madeleine (a pastry) in "Remembrance of Things Past." </p>

<p>http://proustwhore.blogspot.com/2008/10/proust-bloggers-go-forth.html</p>

<p> </p>

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<p>" Are you driven by your appreciation of the usual, or by the challenge of the unusual or unexperienced?" <br>

<br /><br>

John- yes re-read and answered more appropriately. Still doesn't one's drive come from something more than just their level of familiarity with a subject? If you look at it differently, and ask "why am I taking this photograph? what is the reason I enjoy photography? What is it that compels me to record this moment?", I think you'll find the answers part of the larger picture (pun intended:)) <br>

<br /><br>

<br /></p>

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<p>What might add to the discussion of the unseen flower would be a consideration that some of us are making rather than taking pictures. When I think of my photographs as a personal and creative act, I find there can be renewal even in what could mistakenly be seen as already previously shown.</p>

<p>Plato dealt with Beauty in dialogues, not treatises, where he cited no previous texts and his characters spoke in an understandable vernacular. He knew, long before modern poets, that Beauty is related to Eros which is inextricable from longing. His dialogues raise as many questions as they answer and he is profoundly aware of the role of process and goal, becoming and being. He used dialogues because he was bringing something forth from his listeners, not preaching linearly.</p>

<p>To speak of Beauty, Philosophy, and longing in the same paragraph while asserting that Philosophy can't deal with longing seems to betray a lack of understanding of all three. Opinions are fine, but more dogmatic statements written with such authority and such disdain for an entire field of historic thought that lack any real exposure to or knowledge of the subject matter being discussed are simply an embarrassment to the writer.</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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