I don't understand how people who make pictures for a living can update their blogs with images, images images. all the time. don't get me wrong, I love pictures (and I love the people who have legit photo blogs--they are some of the most talented, beautiful and inspiring people I know), but I can't eat, breathe and sleep photos they way I ought* to. There's so much naked experience to be embraced, without sewing fig leaves for myself out of my digital SLR.
isn't it funny that this is photo blog, but all I want to do is write? Admittedly, I've felt trapped by photojournalism and its academic demands. I know I'm not experiencing the real thing, because I was happy as a clam this summer while adventuring in naples with my camera and new visual friends. but i just don't want to make pictures right now. I would rather make pictures with words--old friends, neglected by the courtney on the right for a time. I have not forgotten you! In fact, I need you!
what I love about writing in this instant is I don't care much about its quality. I'm not writing for personal gain, I'm not writing to prove, strive, achieve, compare, beat, smother, conquer. I'm just writing because I haven't exercised verbal muscle in quite some time, and it's delightful rediscovering this pleasure. In the worn texture of the keys beneath my fingers, in the way my mind is simultaneously soothed and stimulated. It's like revisiting the backyard of my childhood home, with the three oak trees and tire swing. I haven't pumped, back and forth, back and forth, beneath those autumny branches in some time.
not that I don't love photography. I just need a sabbatical from images for a bit; enough of media commodities and mechanical reproducibility. Expression's playground is really the Amazon, and photography is just one Pourouma. I want to frolic and be a spirit-child for a bit.
spring break is coming. shall I travel to montreal?
*I am trying to recognize negative thought patterns (see earlier blog post on Wendell Berry and expectation) in myself. I impose ridiculous requirements on myself; I must go through forty "oughts" and "shoulds" and "ought nots" and "should nots" a day! Who says I ought to have a photo blog with images? Pat? Future employers? God? No one. I think this is a still a photo blog. or expression blog or venting blog or seeking inspiration or respite blog or something. whatev.old
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
mediocrity
mediocrity is snapping pictures at
college parties of
half-empty bottles: their contents
billows: forts and blankets
mirages of acquaintances
their broken graffiti signatures on the living room wall.
Wonder-- asleep in red technology caves; the images
fulfilled her momentary soul
thirst
now in temporary graves
the magic was buried alive.
college parties of
half-empty bottles: their contents
billows: forts and blankets
mirages of acquaintances
their broken graffiti signatures on the living room wall.
Wonder-- asleep in red technology caves; the images
fulfilled her momentary soul
thirst
now in temporary graves
the magic was buried alive.
to be a Real Photographer and other insights into mystery
this semester has been bleak and mechanic, as I have been trapped in my preconceptions and expectations. I live in a circle of selfishness, making (not-so) calculated moves based on my desires, dreams, fears and self-affirming ambitions. But what of the world outside of that enclosure, over my white picket Fences? What of a mystery and grandeur so powerful that I am dwarfed and put in my proper place? I say I believe in the Puritan tenet that "the way down is up,"--that suffering means glorification, but I don't actually live with this conviction. I want to look beyond my idea of who God is, of what the world is, of who i am, of goodness and badness, of truth and beauty. The idea is not the reality, yet I live as if I know the answers. I want to look beyond my mind's enclosure and allow myself to be changed by what I see.
I guess the first step to doing this is being honest about the ways I have not done this. I used to pride myself on my honesty, but I learned last semester that I am not honest; the hardest thing for me to do is paint how I really feel about my family or my body. I cannot for the life of me come up with photo story ideas; I do not know what inspires me, what tickles my soul, what brings me to my knees in praise. For the past six months I have approached work with an increasingly fearful mindset, unable to avoid anxiety attacks outside of the J-school or streams of tears when alone in my apartment--the pressure of tedious deadlines and self-imposed expectations on my shoulders. And let's not even talk about job applications--I haven't approached this optimistically, realistically, or with any semblance of discipline. If I can't land the perfect photo job after school, then why try at all?
What a destructive way of thinking! In trying to escape work (for fear of it), I have robbed myself of the capacity to enjoy work and leisure. In looking for the future-placed product to fulfill me (the completed photo story, the secured post-graduation job, the changed circumstances), I have lost sight of Character and Grace. To complete the photo story, I need inspiration and discipline. In securing the post-graduation job, I need patience and courage. Instead of begging God to change my circumstances and remove the hardships, the struggles, the temptations, why don't I pray for Character? Why don't I ask for transformation that transcends my limited human abilities? I think this is a bit of what it means to share in Christ's sufferings; my dependent Savior knew only what God showed Him.
I hate how I'm using photojournalism. I hate the contests. I hate getting caught up in MY progress, MY portfolio, MY story, MY career. I am building an identity out of this work, this art, which should really be a vehicle for mercy. I have cherished my subjects or the world while using it; I have not even really done much of it because I am spending so much of my energy trying to figure out how I can use it to get what I want (i.e. a trip to the Galapagos Islands, a job that will pay me enough money to pay off loans, adventure, excitement, pleasure, security, comfort, status, importance). And I have not been happy (for good reason). In all my selfish twistings of the Gift, I have lost my capacity to feel and love others and the world. I want to do what I do, not because I am duty-bound, but because I love the world and love my family. I want my work to serve the earth I live on and from and with, meaningfully, unendingly. I want to taste the daily and seasonal rewards that come from hard work. I want spiritual and tangible connection.
But all is not lost! This blog entry would end here, in utter hopelessness, if I didn't have a Saviour. Look up, Courtney! Lift your darkened and clouded eyes to the heavens! Even though your sight if flawed, you can feel the warmth of the Sun on your face! Repent and believe! You are far more selfish than you could ever know, but this does not stop me from loving you! You will never use my gifts in the way you ought, but I will still love you. I died for thieves and swindlers; I died for people like you, who abuse people in the name of "art," who misappropriate power, who spend money unwisely on your own pleasures, who run away from responsibilities. I give life to people who have absolutely NOTHING good to account for in their own lives. Your ONLY work on earth is to believe! And since this is too big of a task for you to handle, I will give you all the grace you need to help you believe. So stop trying to fix your problems, which are really anthills--not temples--and let me infuse your life with Love and Inspiration and Awe and Meaning and Romance and Wonder and Paradox and Humility and Value. I will do it! I will lead in you the good works I have set out for you!
I want to end with this passage from Wendell Berry's "The Once Inch Journey," which I find incomprehensibly beautiful and mysterious. It fills me with a sense of hope and gratitude; God is working out the ends to which I aspire. To be a real Photographer. This work that He is doing is simple: He is clarifying my Sight.
It's a spiritually journey of learning how to see, learning how to be at home. Each inch humbling and joyful.
I guess the first step to doing this is being honest about the ways I have not done this. I used to pride myself on my honesty, but I learned last semester that I am not honest; the hardest thing for me to do is paint how I really feel about my family or my body. I cannot for the life of me come up with photo story ideas; I do not know what inspires me, what tickles my soul, what brings me to my knees in praise. For the past six months I have approached work with an increasingly fearful mindset, unable to avoid anxiety attacks outside of the J-school or streams of tears when alone in my apartment--the pressure of tedious deadlines and self-imposed expectations on my shoulders. And let's not even talk about job applications--I haven't approached this optimistically, realistically, or with any semblance of discipline. If I can't land the perfect photo job after school, then why try at all?
What a destructive way of thinking! In trying to escape work (for fear of it), I have robbed myself of the capacity to enjoy work and leisure. In looking for the future-placed product to fulfill me (the completed photo story, the secured post-graduation job, the changed circumstances), I have lost sight of Character and Grace. To complete the photo story, I need inspiration and discipline. In securing the post-graduation job, I need patience and courage. Instead of begging God to change my circumstances and remove the hardships, the struggles, the temptations, why don't I pray for Character? Why don't I ask for transformation that transcends my limited human abilities? I think this is a bit of what it means to share in Christ's sufferings; my dependent Savior knew only what God showed Him.
I hate how I'm using photojournalism. I hate the contests. I hate getting caught up in MY progress, MY portfolio, MY story, MY career. I am building an identity out of this work, this art, which should really be a vehicle for mercy. I have cherished my subjects or the world while using it; I have not even really done much of it because I am spending so much of my energy trying to figure out how I can use it to get what I want (i.e. a trip to the Galapagos Islands, a job that will pay me enough money to pay off loans, adventure, excitement, pleasure, security, comfort, status, importance). And I have not been happy (for good reason). In all my selfish twistings of the Gift, I have lost my capacity to feel and love others and the world. I want to do what I do, not because I am duty-bound, but because I love the world and love my family. I want my work to serve the earth I live on and from and with, meaningfully, unendingly. I want to taste the daily and seasonal rewards that come from hard work. I want spiritual and tangible connection.
But all is not lost! This blog entry would end here, in utter hopelessness, if I didn't have a Saviour. Look up, Courtney! Lift your darkened and clouded eyes to the heavens! Even though your sight if flawed, you can feel the warmth of the Sun on your face! Repent and believe! You are far more selfish than you could ever know, but this does not stop me from loving you! You will never use my gifts in the way you ought, but I will still love you. I died for thieves and swindlers; I died for people like you, who abuse people in the name of "art," who misappropriate power, who spend money unwisely on your own pleasures, who run away from responsibilities. I give life to people who have absolutely NOTHING good to account for in their own lives. Your ONLY work on earth is to believe! And since this is too big of a task for you to handle, I will give you all the grace you need to help you believe. So stop trying to fix your problems, which are really anthills--not temples--and let me infuse your life with Love and Inspiration and Awe and Meaning and Romance and Wonder and Paradox and Humility and Value. I will do it! I will lead in you the good works I have set out for you!
I want to end with this passage from Wendell Berry's "The Once Inch Journey," which I find incomprehensibly beautiful and mysterious. It fills me with a sense of hope and gratitude; God is working out the ends to which I aspire. To be a real Photographer. This work that He is doing is simple: He is clarifying my Sight.
"I turn to the figure of the photographic artist--not the tourist-photographer who goes to a place, bound by his intentions and preconceptions, to record what has already been recorded and what he therefore expects to find, but the photographer who goes into a place in search of the real news (the Good News) of it.
His search is a pilgrimage, for he goes along ways he does not fully understand, in search of what he does not expect and cannot anticipate. His work involves a profound humility, for he has effaced himself; he has done away with his expectations; he has ceased to make demands upon the place. He keeps only the discipline of his art that informs and sharpens his vision--he keeps, that is, the practice of observation--for before a man can be a seer he must be a looker. His camera is a dark room, and he has made a dark place in his mind, exultant and fearful, by which he accepts that he does not know what he is going to see, he does not know the next picture. He has entered into the darkness--in order to see! But for the moment the dark lens holds only a vague potency, like a seed, still one with the mystery of what will come next, which is one with the mystery of the wilderness and of creation.
And then there comes a breaking of the light--and there is another shore to step out of the dark upon, lighted by a blooming flower like a candelabra. We are invited on! We are led on as by the promise of a feast spread for us that we do not yet know. In the shadows a little stream steps down over a ledge of rock into the light. Beyond are the trees, and the darkness again...The camera is a point of reference, a bit like a compass though not nearly so predictable. It is the discipline and the opportunity of vision. In relation to the enclosure we call civilization, these pictures are not ornaments or relics, but windows and doors, enlargements of our living space, entrances into the mysterious world outside the walls, lessons in what to look for and how to see. They limit our comfort; they drain away the subtle corruption of being smug; they make us a little afraid, for they suggest always the presence of the unknown, what lies outside the picture and beyond eyesight; they suggest the possibility of the sudden accesses of delight, vision, beauty, joy that entice us to keep alive and reward us for living; they can serve as spiritual landmarks in the pilgrimage to the earth that each on of us must undertake alone.
Always in the big woods when you leave familiar ground and step off alone into a new place there will be, along with the feelings of curiosity and excitement, a little nagging of dread. It is the ancient fear of the unknown, and it is your first bond with the wilderness you are going into. You are undertaking the first experience, not of the place, but of yourself in the place. It is an experience of our essential loneliness, for nobody can discover the world for anybody else. It is only after we have discovered it for ourselves that it becomes a common ground and a common bond, and we cease to be alone."
It's a spiritually journey of learning how to see, learning how to be at home. Each inch humbling and joyful.
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