I've recently been reading Alan Briskin's book The Stirring of Soul in the Workplace
To illustrate his point he recounts the frustrations of a photography expedition in the Yosemite Valley. Instead of the beautiful views he was expecting, he had to struggle through bitter cold, incessant rain and low cloud. He though it was going to be a wasted journey. However, the group's instructor encouraged them to continue on. To allow themselves to become accustomed to the light and the ever so slightly changing moods of the weather and light. She told them "Art does not reproduce the visible. Art renders visible."
Not long after this, there was a slight break in the clouds and Briskin was able to record some amazing photos.
This stirred me quite deeply. It made me think about The Project. The goal in photography is to tell a story. To make something visible to the viewer they would not have seen even if they were there.
It reminded me of something else from a couple of years ago. I was working on a project with a colleague over about a nine month period. Towards the end of the project, my colleague said to me "You see things other people don't."
It was quite amazing some weeks later at a parent teacher evening hearing my Year 11 daughter's photography teacher saying "Elise's photography is quite special. She sees things other people don't. That's something inate. You can't teach that."
In a similar vein, when I was taking piano lessons again about five years ago, my teacher told me "You play with more senistivity than the vast majority of people on the professional circuit." (She didn't say, and didn't need to, that my technique, although improving, was barely adequate for amateur hour.)
I've always known that I see things that others miss. Sometimes, I see them in my mind as a sense. Other times, I just notice things. I might notice for instance, that someone is deeply sad. Or that they are in a deeply peaceful moment.
Sadly, for most of my life I haven't done anything with this "seeing" — except in a few very special relationships.
Breast Stories is one attempt to use my ability more publicly. It's risky and very often it is clumsy. "Seeing" is easy for me. Translating the deepest seeing into words is something I'm not used to. With some topics it is easier than others. Breast Stories is undoubtably the most difficult. It feels like it is getting easier. But sometimes I seem to go backwards.
The Project is another way of rendering my seeing visible. I love being behind the lens of a camera. I've taken thousands of photos of cliffs and rocks, the sea and the mountains with a few photos of people that stand out. Of all of them, I love the photos of people. I often seem to capture something that even I didn't see when I clicked the shutter.
I am currently have an idea for the first phase of The Project. I am calling it "One Thousand Faces". Last year I got my old Pentax serviced for the first time in its 30 year life. My idea is to take this beautiful camera out into the streets and capture one thousand different faces. I'll need to get organised and decide exactly how I approach people or alternatively invite people. I'll need to work out details like model releases and how I will publish the results. I'm not in a rush to do this and I want to do it properly and sensitively.
I hope One Thousand Faces will be a worthy project in itself . But it will also give me a chance to re-orient myself with my camera. To get used to the feel of it in my hands and allowing myself to feel when the picture is ready to be taken. It will also give me the chance to re-learn the technical aspects of picture taking — like lighting, film speed and composition.
It's like learning to play the piano over again. One Thousand Faces is like learning a Chopin Prelude. When I've accomplished that, I'll know if I'm ready for and capable of the Beethoven Sonata of The Project. Or maybe I'll have to learn a couple of other Preludes first.
However this plays out, my goal is to render visible.
Leave a comment