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<p><strong>Arthur</strong>, you've reflected interestingly (and effectively) on that beautiful chair's image. It was good of Fred to introduce that.</p>

<p>It does seem a strong potential addition to a project centering on man and impermanence.</p>

<p>As well, I love the image qua image. Rich colors, graphic forms etc. It'd print beautifully. Good inkjet would serve it well, and the colors play to Kodak's traditional strengths.</p>

<p>How would the chair's physical presence in a gallery differ from its hung photograph? (more of a total installation question than philosophic question )</p>

<p>You and I discussed birchbark canoes some time back (see Arthur's canoe image). The wonderful example exhibited here in NM, more carelessly than sculpture, would have benefitted greatly if accompanied by oversize (eg mural) prints of details. Photography can direct attention and instruct usefully, while serving art's purposes (eg fine reproductions in history books).</p>

<p>NM more recently enjoyed an exhibit of African sculpture, accompanied by photos of the same objects by both Man Ray and Walker Evans. A side effect was to increase my regard for Man Ray's approach to photography, and decrease it for that of Walker Evans. The whole worked together to create a richness that might otherwise not have been possible.</p>

 

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<p><em>"...being unable to clearly state motivations maybe just indicates there is still some ground to find beneath the feet - rather than not really having motivations." </em> ... Wouter</p>

<p>Yes. And perhaps ability to "clearly state motivations" is a way of asserting that one thinks one has nothing left "to find beneath the feet." I doubt Picasso would have tried, at his zenith, in his last several years if intensive exploration. But he did say things along those lines as a very young man: as Bob Dylan said, he was so much older then. </p>

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<p>"Not only the really good photos, but also in the half-succeeded experiments, in the 'ooops' moments? Do you visually find back what motivated you?:</p>

<p>Not so many years ago, under the notion that I'm only as good as my last photo and the often enough somber awareness that my last photo was bad, I went through a bout of self-criticism in regards to my photographs. I concluded that the bad were bad only in relation to what I desired for a good. Over time, experimenting by photographing the same scenes (ones that I had a desire for the good) in all light and time of day, in all seasons and in all weather, I concluded that I should accept the good offered rather than attempt the good I desired. Things went a lot smoother for me after that.</p>

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<p><strong>Wouter, et al</strong> -- Finding my own motivations retrospectively has been rewarding and enlightening. I tend to think of motivation from the start, from the standpoint of my consciousness before taking the picture. But I think a lot can be gleaned as I grow and look back at what I was doing. Just as motivation can affect the pictures I take, the pictures I take can reveal motivations. My photographs can even reveal motivations other than photographic ones, which is when it gets really interesting (like voyeurism, sex, etc.). In that respect, I don't photograph just to express. I photograph to see myself (and things) more clearly . . . and to share that view with others.</p>

<p>As to your specific question, Wouter, about the "oops" moments, yes, sometimes I think I see it more there. There's a genuineness in rejects and even failure. It's why I don't think a good photo is necessarily one that concretizes or shows the motivations of the photographer. A reject has many reasons for being so. But the freedom to make bad pictures gives me joy and information that I can put to constructive use in building the kinds of photos I want to share rather than reject.</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p>Activating the urge to photograph - people.</p>

<p>In first instance I would like to say that I am in general interested in people. Independently from photographing.</p>

<p>I am interested in how they look like, what they say, what they do, I'm interested in knowing their background and their motivations, knowing their mental, social and "material" framework.</p>

<p>Consequently I watch people. I'm curious and receptive. I try to understand them. I listen and talk.</p>

<p>In addition I like to photograph. I like to watch nice photographs and I like to watch my own photographs, when they are nice. Through photography the "recording" of what I see and my sensations are not merely entrusted to my memory, which is quite good, but which benefits of external support.<br /> In some way when I photograph I "own" a bit of my subject and I have a trustworthy memory support.</p>

<p>My "driver" is curiosity, signals which strike me. The unusual, the outstanding - always according to my perception.<br /> Combined curiosity and desire to memorize - in addition to my photographic (<em>writing with light</em>) passion - are the activator of my photographic stimulus.</p>

<p>PS If I recall it well, the plural of the Latin "stimulus" is "stimuli" :-)</p>

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<p>"How would the chair's physical presence in a gallery differ from its hung photograph? (more of a total installation question than philosophic question )"</p>

<p><strong>John</strong>, an interesting question. The chair has enough character in its 3 dimensional presence to interest a viewer, but probably for different reasons than the effect of the hung photograph (to date only printed on Fuji Cristal archiv paper and only 15 x 10 inches), which has had the lighting and perspective distortion effects applied to it and normally not seen when looking at the actual chair in person.</p>

<p><strong>Wouter,</strong> the question of missed photo opportunities is as much a part of my photography issuing from stimuli or motivation as it is by that in which I am more of a "sponge" (to use your excellent word) for what is going on around me and in which little preconceived approach was used. My desire to photograph our local landscape as it might have appeared 400 years ago was motivated by my desiring to portray that landscape as I imagined Samuel de Champlain might have seen it. I placed one of those photos in my portfolio (albeit outdated now) under the themes title of 1608, revisited. As a small exhibition it was more or less a disaster (I was lucky to have other more appreciated work in the gallery). Few noticed it or commented it. I guess I learned how not to treat the subject, how not to evoke the feeling that the explorer-colonizer may have felt. I still retain the motivation for the project, but I am not sure yet how to go further with it.</p>

<p><strong>Luca, </strong>you are right. Whereas stimulae can be found in several references on Google (medical, marketing, other), the dictionaries do not recognize the word and suggest stimuli for the plural of stimulus.</p>

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<p><strong>Arthur</strong>, can you provide a link to the landscape photo you're talking about, if it's still in your portfolio?</p>

<p>Your description of the period landscape sounds like you may have approached it quite literally. Do you think that was the case and could that approach be modified some to include a bit of metaphor?</p>

<p>I often find that modulation on the continuum that goes from literal to metaphorical is a significant part of expressing something visually. A similar tension seems to exist between what I choose to show and what I choose NOT to show. Some amount of ambiguity (which I think is often more present in the metaphorical as opposed to the literal) allows room for imagination to respond. Too much ambiguity and I may remain disengaged as a viewer. Images that serve as metaphors tend to be a little more ambiguous than strictly literal ones. Yet there can be, depending on subject matter, something very striking, stark, and commanding about a literal take on things.</p>

<p>There's a great essay by a contemporary Philosopher, Thomas Nagel, called <em>What Is It Like To Be A Bat?</em> One thing he covers is the difference between wondering what it would be like for me, a human, to be a bat and what it's like for a bat to be a bat. It's a significant difference and might apply to making "period" photographs. It seems there would be some creative tension in looking at it two ways: seeing the landscape through your own eyes back to a time gone by and, at least metaphorically, seeing it through the eyes of those who might have seen it for themselves.</p>

<p>I'm not suggesting one way would be better than another. I'm suggesting that considering the tension between those ways of looking might give you some ideas about how to approach it.</p>

We didn't need dialogue. We had faces!
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<p>Fred,</p>

<p>I have placed two of these in my portfolio. They are:<br /> http://www.photo.net/photo/8083763<br /> and<br /> http://www.photo.net/photo/10193894</p>

<p>Perhaps my attempt is too literal. In self-criticism, I would say the images and project are perhaps too contrived. Anyway, here are the descriptions of the images. In the first (which should be named 1609, revisited No. 3, not 2) I photographed a decaying rock painting in this area, to suggest Champlain's presence, also the St. Lawrence River shoreline he visited (Overwritten on the lower canoe image is my copy of his writing from a previous visit in 1603, in which he described the danger of sailing into the shallow waters of part of the river) and finally an Indian canoe in the Canoe museum in Peterborough, Ontario. I then removed the busy background in my canoe picture and use the white space to write in Champlain's words (In old French, which is the basis of the language which has survived in modern Quebec).</p>

<p>In the second image (1608, No. 2), I made another tryptych comprising three separate photographs, the upper one being a dull day winter shot of the uninhabited shore and tree-lined cliff on the island (Orleans) about 10 miles east of Quebec City, my photograph copy of a detail of Champlain's map of the river at present Quebec City (from a historical book on thesubject), and my photograph of an indian arrowhead collection of the Huron museum at Midland, Ontario (which I also visited to see Iroquois / Huron type longhouses, which I also used in other tryptychs of this series). The arrowheads symbolize the indigenous people present when Champlain arrived to found the settlement in 1608.</p>

<p>One thing I wished to do, but have not yet fully accomplished, was to make other photographs in which I would have blurred figures in the woods or in open landscapes. I tried this using myself as subject within the longhouse photos, but I did not technically create convincing enough blurred figure images (I could always recognize myself or that of a modern figure) in the few attempts I made then. I have a multi-exposure camera and I will try again to use the blurred figure image in uninhabited landscapes to suggest the arrival of the explorer/colonizer. As you can see, the photographs were all made as a result of a motivation to celebrate the 400th anniversary in this way.</p>

<p>I will definitely read your reference, and try more to think like the bat. It sounds like it coud be very worthwhile for this sort of approach. Thanks.</p>

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<p>Arthur, I would't worry or be too critical about being literal with these pictures. That's your starting point, and the important thing is that work precipitates from it, and it will evolve as you go. This is what I see happening with these pictures. A sense of disasatisfaction and revision are healthy.</p>

<p>In my opinion, it is impossible to be the bat, let alone the bat as bat, but it is a great exercise to get beyond yourself, and displace your reality, even to a small degree. A little parallax goes a long way in helping us see things in a different way.<br>

Have you seen the movie <em>The New World?</em> In it, the filmmaker did a credible job of showing what it might have been like for the colonists to see America for the first time. Sometimes when I am kayaking, and wander into an area where few people ever go or have gone, that feeling becomes palpable. Blurred figures might work, and you should try it (bring a model), study pictures of European explorers from that era. Look at The Rephotographic Survey, and things like Timothy O'Sullivan's pictures of Canyon de Chelly and Adams' picture of the same thing. Same with the rock inscriptions of the Spanish explorer.</p>

<p> </p>

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<p>Luis,</p>

<p>I will pursue images with blurred figures and follow your suggestion of researching historical European costumes. Perhaps I also need to create particular atmospheric illusions (haze or fog, specific lighting, soft focus) for further shots that support my motivation in this series, to give an illusion of what it was like then, what the Europeans (and indigenous people) may have thought. As fine as the 19th century O'Sullivan and Adams images are, they are too representational or "real" to depict for me the times past. While being good sources of types of costumes and material of the time, I fear that films like "The New World" (or in Canada, "Black Robe" or "Nouvelle France") are too centered on the plot (love story, religion, community politics) and not so good at evoking hoew people really thought during those times. I always see actors like Pocahontas or Christopher Plummer in some part as 21st century persons, rather than as their roles, but maybe we are too familiar with the usual presence of the actors or with the habits of 21st century persons like them. Edward Curtis spent a fortune to document American and Canadian indigenous peoples (the indigenous peoples are neither American or Canadian, of course) and did so quite honestly, and he are better off for those efforts, but I believe he has been criticised for having "arranged" his images to portray the infigenous peoples as he viewed them (his right, of course, and a consequence of the views of many of the time). In other words, it is very difficut I think to portray what the people of those times were really like. We place them in the context of our own contemporary values.</p>

<p>I guess this is more related to approach than to motivation or stimulus. Nevertheless, I appreciate your comments related to how I might continue the project. Thanks. </p>

 

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<p>Arthur, my suggestion has nothing to do with the literality of researching costumes. It has to do with <em>body language </em>as depicted in contemporary paintings of the day. I think you are on the right track about illusion, which is exactly what the cinematographer in the movie I mentioned managed to do convincingly. The last thing I was suggesting about the movie (and explicitly left it out) was the plot, for the very reasons you mention. It was about the feeling of being a stranger in a new (promised, in the case of the Puritans) and alien land. Ideas of sanctuary, religious destiny, a new world to exploit, leaving everything behind, to be born anew in, etc.</p>

<p> </p>

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<p>Luis, I had not seen that movie, but defintely will. My apprehension about it related more to memories of some past historical movies. You have an important observation about body language, as suggested in past paintings. Very pertinent. Thanks.</p>

<p> </p>

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<p>Arthur, for perspective you might think about the documented character, in particular the physical toughness and determination of people such as Francis Drake, Merriwether Lewis, Francisco Coronado and other explorers. They were very different physically, philosophically, and intellectually than anybody is today...though some may have been a lot like our contemporaries philosophically. </p>
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<p>John, good point. Although documentation about these guys is often sparse (Drake of course was in Royal circles and more is probably known about him because of that), their exploits often tell a lot. Champlain's and Pierre Dugas's common champion, Henri IV of France, was assassinated in the religious wars in 1610, but he continued to get people interested in the New World despite that loss. Samuel de Champlain made 20 or so trips across the Atlantic, in not the most comfortable of conditions (one of his pilots, more forgotten, made about twice that number), made high quality maps of the time of much of North America (including Mexico city), ventured almost single-handed into unknown territories (Lake Champlain, NY, to fight the Iroquois), voyaged by canoe through much of modern day Ontario to attempt to find Henry Hudson's son who joined the indians in the far north wilderness (key to the India route?), to Georgian Bay, in search of Indian allies (Hurons), to Ile au Croix (Maine/New Brunswick) in 1604, to set up a settelement there (most of his group of 40 or so died over winter, then supported his English arrest and deportation to London between 1629 and 32 to work to win Quebec back from the British on a diplomatic technicality, and lived out the rest of his life in his future city (Quebec) under tough conditions till his death here in 1635. Quite a guy, and enough to motivate anyone who lives in this region.</p>
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<p>By "different" as well as a "lot like" philosophically, I should have been more specific...too much off-topic potential in any case.<br>

Coronado found it fairly easy to adopt New Spain (New Mexico) because Spain wasn't advanced over it in many daily-living respects. A similar idea was discussed re England/Japan in James Clavell's "Shogun." Champlain may have experienced little culture shock. </p>

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<p>Possibly, John, but at that early time, virtually everything was unknown territory (despite the importation to France of Hochelaga indians, sons of Donnacona, by Jacques Cartier in 1534, prior to his unsuccessful attempts at settlement in 1541). In his first winter, Champlain lost most of his men, and in the experiment at Quebec City in 1608, nobody would have made it through the first winter witout the considerable aid and knowledge of the local Indians.</p>

<p>Yes, there was indeed much culture shock. The desire of the French to treat the indigenous peoples as allies was contrary to Spanish (annihilation) and British policy (only marginally better), and worked well for New France, which saw its borders cover all of eastern Canada, some northeastern states, and all the way down the Mississippi to Louisiana and Texas. This co-habitation policy led to the Great Peace, signed between the French and the major indian nations of much of North America, in Montreal in 1701 (First Nation leaders came to Montreal from all over).</p>

<p>This quite amazing peace lasted about 50years, until the British put a wedge between some of the First Nations and the French (by which time, anyway, the writing was on the wall, with 2 million Brits in colonial America and only 76,000 French colonials over a much too extensive territory). The cultural shock was great, but the (historically unusual) empathy between French and the First Nations helped greatly to paliate that initial situation.</p>

<p>This recent discussion, however interesting to me, is centering too much on my own motivation and stimuli in photography. I will gadly withdraw for a while, in anticipation (and welcome) of the ideas of others along those lines.</p>

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<p>fyi Spanish policy, recorded in detail as declared by King Philip and others, was explicitly opposed to "annihilation" or even brutality, was substantially concerned with bringing the Pope's religion ...conquistador horrors in Mexico angered Spain's King Philip...Spain led Europe in formal opposition to slavery.</p>

<p>English colonists in America, Quakers, anabaptists, Presbyterians, and other anti-authoritarian religionists, initially sought cooperation with natives but due to circumstances and incompetence, screwed things up (and had alibis for slavery)...happily for the English they acquired and developed an infinitely wealthier agricultural and entrepreneurial world to "Canada's" south, quickly accomplished genuine independence (happy 4th of July. bang pop!) and a now-ancient constitution..plenty of bloodshed notwithstanding. Canada still suffers the French affection for government employment and the British alternative of lousy cuisine and bad teeth. I enjoyed living in Newfoundland as a kid, strongly recommend "Shipping News" :-) Unfortunately I can't find my 1958 negatives, but I do have some of my 3X4 prints of icebergs and St. Johns harbour.</p>

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<p>...sorry to prolong the historic ramble, but of course history is inherently fictional from an experiential point of view. The official factoids differ depending upon our usually-substantially-accidental backgrounds and educational/propagandist institutions.</p>

<p>So..<strong>if Arthur's "stimulus"</strong> has to do with desire to render images in an "historic" fashion, perhaps photography has less potential than, say, painting on brain-tanned deer hides? That's assuming Canada's native people didn't have digicams to document Champlain et al :-)</p>

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<p><strong>"Elements of motivation or stimulae that incite others to photograph" (from the OP)</strong></p>

<p>Just a reminder of the OP, for those who have not yet had the chance to offer <strong>their own</strong> elements of motivation or stimuli in making or creating photographs, so as to to carry forward and enrich the discussion.</p>

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<p>Phylo, do you really think that the so-called direct seeing of the Miksamg photographers is valid? In your reference, the photographer states the following. </p>

<p>"The second obstacle (to Miksang) is our habitual ways of superimposing our labels and preferences upon what we see. In order to work with this we begin to train ourselves to pay attention to the visual experience we have before our labeling mind kicks in."</p>

<p>I am not a simple recording device devoid of biases, which seems to be what Miksang desires. I do not have labels to place on my photographed subjects. If I have preferences, they are intellectual and emotional ones that do not deny myself as a particular human. My motivations and stimuli are important in enabling me to define myself as a photographer and possibly as artist. I see no reason to purge myself of the sum knowledge of my education and experience, but rather to use that in making photographs.</p>

<p>Such are not at all "continuous distractions". They are the reason and passion that makes me photograph. I can happily live without Miksang. I am certainly not that fettered and unbiased recording device. </p>

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<blockquote>

<p>If I have preferences, they are intellectual and emotional ones that do not deny myself as a particular human. My motivations and stimuli are important in enabling me to define myself as a photographer and possibly as artist. I see no reason to purge myself of the sum knowledge of my education and experience, but rather to use that in making photographs.</p>

</blockquote>

<p>Been there, done that. I would like to go beyond, whether succesful at this or not. <em>That's</em> my stimulus. What for you might seem to be a <em>constraining of vision, </em>regarding the approach talked about in the link, might seem to be for me a <em>liberation from vision</em>. We both use a "simple unbiased recording device" by the way.</p>

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<p>Phylo, I wonder if a similar approach to the Miksang one is considered by artists who use paint or sculpture? I have a feeling that most such creation comes from the mind of the artist, whatever his or her intellectual and emotional motivations to create something unique.</p>

<p>I do absolutely agree with you that we should use an approach that makes sense to us. I hope you will at some point discuss in Ph.O.P. how Miksang has (or will have) helped your photography.</p>

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<p><strong>AP nudged thusly - "</strong>Just a reminder of the OP, for those who have not yet had the chance to offer <strong>their own</strong> elements of motivation or stimuli in making or creating photographs, so as to to carry forward and enrich the discussion."<br /> ___________________________</p>

<p>For me, it is a question of being. Photography is a continuum, a way of life for me. At the core, it's part of my wordless, seamless fusion with the universe (which, of course, includes others). Always about something or someone else besides me. Sometimes in project form, and sometimes formless.</p>

<p>Whenever I partition or fragment the process, it only interferes with the flow.</p>

<p>While I do not practice <em>Miksang</em>, my years of meditation and life path have taken me to a similar field. I do not carry a constant logorrheic negotiation or dialogue with or about myself or my work in my head. Nor do I see that, or its opposite, as a signifier of creativity (or its opposite). In my head, it's only being/seeing.</p>

<p>Sometimes I'll fall into thinking, planning, writing about what I'm going to do or why, but in the end, it doesn't have much to do with what happens.</p>

<p>I am not a simple recording device, but a human being. One that has much more in common with others than differences. I see recurring themes in my work, but think of them equally, and do not label them as effect and/or cause. Self-definition is not that important to me. Being is. I do not purge myself of the sum knowledge of my education and experience, label myself, distinguish myself from others, or hold them out as "tools" or filters. For me, <em>integrating</em> that is not only liberating, but adds contiguity to my work.</p>

<p>It's exactly like what heppens with the technical. It's a hurdle until it becomes integrated/like breathing. Then it synergizes with everything else.</p>

<p>[DISCLAIMER: This being PN/PoP, I have to state that I am not in any way claiming, endorsing, implying, or hinting that this is good for anyone but me. Or that it is superior to any other way of working, or that anyone should try it, or that it would improve their photography. There are a myriad other motives/ways of working, and <em>all of them are at least as legitimate, if not more so than the one I practice. </em>I did not choose this way of working <em> </em>on the road to Damascus, out of a golden flash of wisdom, or in a fit of free will (which I do not believe in). It's just the way my life went. YMWV.]</p>

<p> </p>

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<p><strong>That's an enjoyable, well-expressed meditation by Luis, above</strong>. His caution re: <em>"partition or fragment the process"</em> seems especially relevant to this OP. For me, focusing on "stimulus and response" is a bit too particular. If I was into grab shots, fleeting moments, they might work better for me.</p>

<p><strong>Unlike Luis</strong> (is the following unlike?), I "believe" both in "golden flash of wisdom" and "free will". For me, "belief" is hypothesis that seems to come from experience, so cries out for consideration and testing (similar to scientific method). Sharing Luis's desire to "integrate," it's important for me to begin by recognizing and understanding experiences that seem to call for that integration (I'm not saying Luis fails to integrate anything he's experienced).</p>

<p> </p>

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