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Article on Photography


Spearhead

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<p>Are they any more vivid to me because there are no photographs? Conversely, would photographing have taken me away and made it all less sharp in my mind?</p>

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<p>One of the great benefits of having a strong interest in photography, IMO, is that one is often more aware of what's happing in the vicinity, or more aware of relationships between elements in the environment, because that's what we often look for when doing many kinds of photography. Photographers often just seem to have their eyes open a bit wider. So I would reply with a "no" to the author's two questions above. In the end, all we're pretty much left with in life are memories, and the more intently the experience is seen, the more vivid and long-lasting the memories are likely to be. I contend that the author's memories are more vivid not because he didn't have photographs of that particular experience, but rather because he is, at heart, a photographer. </p>

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<p>Reminds me of the title of a 1970s book by Ram Dass, <em>"Be Here Now"</em>, which a fellow Navy corpsman had written on the back of his helmet. Since I was behind him in formation on long marches I had a chance to ponder that philosophy.</p>

<p>I try to accommodate a compromise between being in the moment and experiencing the memory unfiltered by the viewfinder while also recording the moment by snapping a lot of photos without referring to the finder or LCD. A lot of the photos are crap to anyone but me. But they're often interesting abstract representations of those moments.</p>

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<p>I can see how photography for many people gives us the ability to save (and savor) moments of our lives. After avidly taking photographs throughout my life for over 45 years now, I’ve recently become more aware that I’ve always tried to create compositions that could be appreciated by any other human being, and not just me personally, or our family, etc. In other words, I might be photographing a family member, but I’m trying to do something universal at the same time. So for me its not just about capturing another image to store in the shoe box of snapshots. I do have lots of simple snapshots for the family albums, don’t get me wrong, but the shots I put the energy into are the ones I see as potentially being more universal. I’m wondering if other people approach their photography this way as well. I would guess this is rather common, in fact. Its maybe the attempt to take a moment and abstract it well enough for it to communicate a common theme to lots of people. This is art, right?</p>
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<p>Although section 4 was compelling, I really stopped and re-read section 5, especially about being aware of a moment without having to capture it in photographs. Although I still carry some kind of photo-taking device almost all the time (including the iPhone) I have made a point of not looking at everything as a photo opportunity. Sometimes the pictures I carry around in my mind after a day out are as important as the photos I took time to shoot. I think Fred is on to something with the idea that what we don't shoot can tell us as much as what we do.</p>
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<p><em>We are now all Tim Page.</em><br>

I am just now trying in no little desperation to assemble a small booklet of moments from ten years' of motorbiking with my wife and family, building a long and complex workstream of scanning, editing, printing, pasting, annotating, and every image or pastiche is built and comes from the printer with the refreshed emotional resonance of that moment itself, only now vivified by the certainty that but for its evocation, a little drop of distillation of one crushing poigant pinpoint of what it is to be human will vanish, evaporate forever.<br>

A very raw, a painful explication of just how all this happens with us, our lenses, our fugitive moments of life fled. </p>

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<blockquote>

<p>All of this exists in my memory and nowhere else. The clarity of each silvery minnow in the ocean, or the boy’s head outlined against the bright blue sky as he brings a chip to his mouth beneath the umbrella. About them all I must ask: Are they any more vivid to me because there are no photographs? Conversely, would photographing have taken me away and made it all less sharp in my mind?</p>

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<p>One's memory of an event is never quite what actually happened. Our recollection bits and pieces of an event are affected by our mind's narrative. And our narrative changes slightly over time, thus the more we remember something, the more distinct and vivid we make it. Eventually, it becomes more about us and our narrative. We sorta create our version(s) of memory than "remember" what factually happened. Memory is not fixed, but malleable to our inner thoughts and desires...</p>

<p> </p>

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<p>This was very poignant and vividly written, as would be expected from a good writer skilled at framing his experiences. Imagists poetry is equivalent in that way and should be familiar to all us photographers. That he was <em>just being there </em>in full is the important thing.</p>

<p>I have a bunch of negs my father shot of his time as a soldier in Europe during WWII. I look at them with a scanning project in mind and wonder how it was to be there.</p>

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<p>Beautiful article, beautifully written. Or maybe I only think that because -- as the father of a young daughter myself -- the article resonated with me on a strong personal level. And yes, also very thought stimulating. </p>

<p>I also appreciate the article because it is open ended. He ponders and poses questions, and perhaps leans in the direction that being in the moment, unfiltered by a camera, is more important than capturing the moment with the camera. But it's not weighted with that absolutist tone that one sometimes comes across: "This is how it is! This is the correct viewpoint to have!".</p>

<p>Thanks, Jeff.<br>

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