My experience of this week’s activities:
We were asked about our relationship with our chosen apparatus. I do not really have a relationship with my chosen apparatus. It is just an electronic box – pleasant to use and it mostly does what I want. I am sure a dozen other, similar camera systems would also be both. So, overall, I am not particularly fussy about what I use. It just needs to be competent for the task in hand.
For this week’s activity – making images with a totally unfamiliar apparatus – I chose an old Canon compact camera I have never used before and probably about 15 years old. To be frank, I though it was rubbish. It was poorly designed with very small and fiddly controls and the images it produced were crude in the extreme. Any modern smartphone would be better than this by an order of magnitude. The Japanese camera industry’s decline has roots long in the making.
I used to do a lot of ‘contemplative photography’ as part of a meditation programme. It was called Miksang which is Tibetan for ‘good eye’. The basic idea is to meditate for half an hour, then go out with a camera while trying to maintain the meditation but with a specific task in mind: for example, looking for a certain colour, looking for only dots or splashes of colour, looking for textures, looking for space (my favourite), and so forth. No photograph would be made unless there was a ‘flash’ of recognition and contact with something in the physical world. When that happened, the task was to use the photograph to express that moment of recognition, which is not necessarily the same as simply showing what is there. Andy Karr and Michael Wood organized these ideas into a programme and published them as a book (Karr and Wood 2011).
I thoroughly enjoyed my ‘contemplative photography’. As a mindfulness practice, it is somewhat based on the Zen idea that if the archer’s mind is clear and empty of all discursive thought (i.e. distractions) then the arrow has already hit the target before it is released. Or, the image has already been made (in the mind) before the shutter is pressed. These ideas do express a truth, in my view.
I can see this being a way towards the freedom that Flusser talks about (Flusser 2000: 81-2), because if the image has already been made in the mind then it is free of dependence on an apparatus. I should probably make more of these ideas in my practice, because I know from experience how useful they can be. I don’t think they are suitable for every circumstance but they probably tie in quite closely with my temperament and with my current project.
I made five images with the Canon compact, as requested. I also made a completely accidental ghosted exposure with my regular camera while having to move it a couple of times during a long exposure. The results are quite pleasing, in fact. I have experimented with the results in Photoshop, to see how they might look if expressed in other ways. However, the problem that soon arose is that experimentation is aimless without a clear intent. I do not have a clear intent so at present experimentation is just messing around. While that’s fine, I do not feel it is productive.
So for now I will leave these experiments and ideas and let them swirl around in my unconscious. Later, something new will probably emerge. I have to be patient.
FLUSSER, Vilém. 2000. Towards a Philosophy of Photography. London: Reaktion, 76–82.
KARR, Andy and Michael WOOD. 2011. The Practice of Contemplative Photography : Seeing the World with Fresh Eyes. 1st ed. Boston: Shambhala.
Figure 1: Mark CREAN. 2020. St Mary’s, Iffley, taken with an old Canon compact camera and the jpeg converted to black and white in Silver Efex. Collection of the author.
Figure 2: Mark CREAN. 2020. St Mary’s, Iffley, This image was made by converting Fig. 1 above using Photoshop warp and paint filters and then applying a split tone using colours taken from a ‘blue’ sequence painting by Chris Ofili. Collection of the author.
Figure 3. Mark CREAN. 2020. The Thames at Iffley – accidental image ghosting caused by moving the camera during a long exposure. This image was made with my regular Olympus camera. Collection of the author.
Figure 4. Mark CREAN. 2020. The Thames at Iffley. This image was made by applying a Photoshop mosaic filter to Fig. 3 above, using colours taken from a ‘blue’ sequence painting by Chris Ofili. Collection of the author.
Figure 5. Mark CREAN. 2020. The Thames at Iffley. This image was made by converting Fig. 3 above into a (digital) cyanotype using Photoshop. Collection of the author.
Figure 6. Mark CREAN. 2020. The Thames at Iffley. This image was made by converting Fig. 3 above into a split tone using Photoshop. The key colours are taken from a ‘blue’ sequence painting by Chris Ofili. Collection of the author.