Coming Out-why I photograph

Kia ora tatou:

My gay friends use the phrase coming out, when you realise your sexual orientation, and are comfortable enough with it to go public, to stand by it and be what you are. What has this to do with photography? Read on.

My dear friend Denis La Touche recently asked me that question: Tony, why do you photograph? I confess that it is a question I have asked myself often during the 25 years or so I have been making photographs. Each time the question and its answer have informed what I was (or thought I was) trying to do with my picture making. As time has gone on, the answer has differed and changed. What was a valid response then is not necessarily relevant today. But if my growth as a photographer has been a journey both artistic and personal, then the statements at that time have in a sense been marker pegs on a road. When Denis asked me the question, I realised that while I have been asking all my students to think about this question, I hadn’t really done so for myself, or rather been prepared to put myself on the line. This post then, is an attempt to put my money where my mouth is.

It needs to be said that the answer I will give today is different to one I would have given 5 or 10 or 15 years ago. Ask me the same question in a year or two, and you may well get a different response. So here goes.

Firstly I photograph because I must. My friends who are painters paint because they must. It is not a question of doing it because they feel like it or because they have a little spare time. Something inside them (and me) drives them to do it. Is it a need to bring out some inner yearning? Possibly. Is it a need to leave footprints in the sands of Time? It may well be. Is it a need to explore ideas both personal and/or expressive? Highly likely. It may well be. Or it could be a combination of all of the above. At the moment I would have to answer: all of the above. But then I am a Libran, so all of the above suits my indecisive nature…

Yes, I am driven to make photographs. Those of you who know me would, I am sure, agree. I am not apologetic about that. It is who I am. Yes, I want to show my vision of the world (more about that later), and photography is the medium that allows me to do that. If I am honest, I would probably rather do it with paint. But there seems to be a hand/eye issue that makes any attempts to paint on canvas look something a 2-year old could do better. For some reason photography is a blend of Art and Science that works for me. Most of the time.

As for leaving footprints, that too. One of photography’s strengths is its ability to precisely define a moment. A photograph freezes a moment in time. In the case of a portrait, it captures who, where and when. In the case of a landscape, where and when. So when I press the shutter, I have defined a grouping of these pronouns. But it is more than that. Of course it is more than that. It give me a concrete opportunity to look back, to remember, and to keep records.

Much of my work has been ideas-driven. My street photography was an attempt to challenge Heisenberg’s Law of Uncertainty. He won, but I was the richer for having taken on the challenge, and from time to time I attempt, albeit in a desultory fashion, to have another go. Nd what I see post-shoot informs me still.

When I thought further about Denis’s question, I realised in a way he wanted to get inside my head about what was going on when I photographed. Perhaps the question was really: what are you trying to say? I hear a number of you grinning at my attempts to get you to do it without having done it for myself. So this is an attempt to right the balance (another Libran moment).

My first experiments were with the landscape. 15 years ago my idol was Ansel Adams. I was entranced by his ability to master the grand landscape, to arrange incredibly complex picture spaces and make them work. Recently I saw an exhibition of his work and many of those early beliefs were confirmed, particularly his technical mastery. After all, it was he who said: “the way to Art is through Craft, not around it.” As I looked at the work, I realised that his statement still held true for me. Craftsmanship is a cornerstone of my photography. It always has been.

But I realised that in my journeying through all the genres (documentary, portraiture et al) it was really landscape that held true for me, that is closest to my weltaussicht. I am now working extensively in this genre, and it was the one that I began with. It has been a circular journey. Aren’t they all? But I am happy.

I also realised that while his subject matter held truths for Ansel, it didn’t for me. It is rather like visiting someone else’s home. You can admire it and appreciate their taste in decorating without necessarily wanting to live in it or own it or emulate it yourself. And as I looked at the Great Man’s work, I was able to disengage myself from it, while at the same time using it as a light to re-evaluate my own. And a few pennies dropped into place.

Like Ansel, working with complex picture spaces fascinates me. That means the grand landscape or “busy” material. Trees in a forest, a bush, that sort of thing. Finding structure where there appears to be none is a challenge.

I have for a long time been conscious that there is something special about our landscape. No it is not a question of visual diversity. Rather there is an indefinable something, a wairua or spirit present in our landscape, a consciousness that is Other. Kiwi filmmakers have been aware of it for years. Just look at Vincent Ward’s Vigil. But so few landscape photographers have looked at it. Brian Brake seems to have been aware of it. His photograph of Milford has a brooding menace that is almost terrifying. My landscape photography is increasingly concerned with describing the river behind the wall.

There is a glorious melancholy in aspects of our landscape that intrigues me. I wonder what has happened in places like this: who has lived and died here, what dreams have been born, flourished and passed away, how the people (if any) who lived here interacted with their environment. For that reason I am interested in the visual relationships between the Natural World and the Hand of Man.

While discussing it with my friend Pete McGregor, he mentioned a Japanese concept called wabi sabi. I looked it up on Wikipedia. Here is what it says:

Wabi-sabi represents a comprehensive Japanese worldview or aesthetic centred on the acceptance of transience. The phrase comes from the two words wabi and sabi. The aesthetic is sometimes described as one of beauty that is "imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete" (according to Leonard Koren in his book "Wabi-Sabi: for Artists, Designers, Poets & Philosophers"). It is a concept derived from the Buddhist assertion of the first noble truth -- Dukkha, or in Japanese, ñ≥èÌ (mujyou), impermanence.

According to Leonard Koren, wabi-sabi is the most conspicuous and characteristic feature of what we think of as traditional Japanese beauty and it "occupies roughly the same position in the Japanese pantheon of aesthetic values as do the Greek ideals of beauty and perfection in the West." Andrew Juniper claims, "if an object or expression can bring about, within us, a sense of serene melancholy and a spiritual longing, then that object could be said to be wabi-sabi." Richard R. Powell summarizes by saying "It (wabi-sabi) nurtures all that is authentic by acknowledging three simple realities: nothing lasts, nothing is finished, and nothing is perfect."

I also found reference to a concept called mono no aware. A definition again:

Mono no aware is a Japanese term used to describe the awareness of the transience of things, and a gentle sadness at their passing. It is also referred to as the ahness of things/life/love. It was popularised by the Edo-period scholar Motoori Norinaga. It was originally an idea from literary criticism. In his criticism on The Tale of Genji, Motoori noted it as the crucial emotion that moves readers. Generally, its scope is not limited to Japanese literature but affects the Japanese view of the world in general.

Thanks Pete. They pretty much sum it up.

And there it is. My coming out, if you like.

Ka kite ano