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Landscape Chronicals - Part 1

Members' Blogs: Landscape Chronicals - Part 1

Posted by: Charlotte on Mon Jul 22, 2013 15:38   (2025 Reads)
I've been making concrete this morning and the repetitive 3 x gravel, 2 x sand and one of cement gave my thoughts a chance to wander. The reason I'm writing this is that I find it easier to think properly when 'talking' to myself – writing my thoughts down enable me to listen to myself properly. Probably doesn't make any sense but I know what I mean.
I started thinking about the brick wall I keep banging my head against and realised it's the same brick wall each time – I've really been going around in circles even though I thought I was making a new path of my own. I know, I do keep banging on about my frustrations don't I. Some of you have already carved out your own niches in the cliffs, some like photographing their children, some enjoy recording their holidays others get a thrill from capturing birds and what ever does it for you is fine obviously the important thing is that you are doing what you enjoy and are happy with the results you are getting.

I on the other hand haven't found the niche I want to settle in. Macro isn't fulfilling me any more, I get the feeling it was a process I had to go through in order to learn how to use the camera properly and teach me lots of valuable lessons. I wouldn't be any where near as good at it if I hadn't put in the effort, at least an hours practice every day since I bought my first Macro lens brought me to the stage that I am at now, and I still have a long way to go. Also I discovered after longing for a 100mm 2,8 macro lens and a better camera it's got bugger all to do with the equipment anyway. A better lens and a better camera doesn't necessarily make you a better photographer, blood sweat and tears is the only way to do that. Patience is a virtue, eventually insects stay still long enough to photograph once you've taken the time to watch them and learn about them.

I came back to the idea of taking a workshop but again decided that apart from different scenery there isn't really a lot of point. I could go out with a really good photographer and I could even get them to set my camera up for a shot but it would be me taking the shot and I wouldn't have the vision to see what they were seeing and it would still end up being a mediocre shot at best – probably the best photo I would have made, but mediocre none the less.

At least I found out that the so called magic hours don't appear everyday so that's made me feel better. The only problem is now that if I don't go out each evening I might miss one of these rare phenomenons and the entire last few months will have been wasted. So up before dawn and home after dark – I'm sure I'll find time for my chores in-between. Who needs sleep anyway I'll have plenty of time for that when I'm dead.

Reading books won't help either I know I've read enough of them. No one can give you the 'gift' you have to find it yourself. Fairies don't live in the pages of a book they live at the bottom of my garden on the left just behind the gingerbread house after you've gone past the magic mushrooms. As Meatloaf says 'You won't find the Coupe de Ville at the bottom of a Cracker Jack box. You won't find the pot of gold at the bottom of the rainbow if you don't keep looking for it. The easiest way to fail is not to bother trying in the first place saves heartache I suppose but I'd rather be alive whilst I'm living.

I spent some time the other day going through and sorting and deleting some of my old photos 'twas a strange experience, as I was reading my notes at the same time. Funny thing is that if I had taken some of the photos I've taken recently back then I would have been overjoyed with them. I suppose expectations change as knowledge grows and ability increases, but I think most of my recent stuff is crap.

I write poetry, I write a lot of rubbish poetry. I scribble lots of words. Sometimes these scribblings over time form a coherent whole and I end up with a half decent poem. Occasionally I am connected to a stream that I can't break free of and I have to write and write until it's gone – these are rare occurrences though most of the time it's hard work and lots of scribbles.

Each photo I take can be compared to a scribble and hopefully over time I'll end up with something whole.

Made me think what it is that I'm trying to achieve with my photography.
I want to create a poem with my camera, I want to enable people to hear the sound of the breeze gently caressing leaves as it enables drops of sunlight to fall to the forest floor like multifaceted diamonds.
I want people to experience both the power and gentleness of water as it cascades down rivers towards the seas.
I want to share the feeling of joy one experiences each morning when one awakes and has the gift of another day to enjoy.
I want to introduce people to Misery who lives at the bottom of the deep dark pit of depression that some of us fall into from time to time.

I want to take a photo that sings the song of creation and takes a journey back to the very beginning of time when all was fresh innocent and new. Not much to ask of a photo is it.

Will I ever manage to achieve that – not on your Nellie.

There you go I've liberated myself – I'll never achieve it. Why not, it's possible because others have done it and given little glimpses behind the veil. I won't get there because I'll never ever be satisfied with the last photo I've taken, my expectations along with my knowledge will have grown. I'll have lived a little longer and will have experienced different things so my vision will have changed. Do you know how liberating that is it, takes away all the self induced pressure, there's no hurry any more I have the rest of my life to 'scribble' I can take my time and enjoy the journey 'cause I don't have to worry about 'getting there' because I know I never will.

I can't follow the path any more because it's ended that's why I keep banging my head against a brick wall. No point in pulling myself up the rock face or cutting my way through the undergrowth yet again either because it leads back to the blasted wall again.

Time for me to fly …............................................
 
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