I’m leaving in a few days for an epic long walk – the West Highland Way in Scotland. Five days, 96 miles of pilgrimage walking, from Glasgow to Fort William. That promises to be a very special adventure.
But this post is about a very ordinary adventure.
So I picked up a new camera yesterday. Of all things, a compact point-and-shoot. Why, in the age of ubiquitous smartphones, endless streams of images, AI slop, would I want a new camera? I also already own a full frame DSLR and a lower-end DSLR, plus an iPhone, and an old Pentax K-1000 film camera. Well, because one: I felt like it. And two: I wanted something that would fit in my pocket, be easy to use while offering some creative control, and be more intentional to use than a smartphone.
I’m in Eastern Washington for a few days to attend a family wedding. This morning, I went for a walk through the neighborhood where I’m staying – a typical American exurban single-family housing buildout through flat land with pine trees. Driveways full of 3-car garages and pickup trucks, overwatered grass lawns, inefficient curving roads, and no particularly interesting destination to go to. Still, I went out with my new point-and-shoot, and set out to walk around taking photos.
To further set up this post: I’ve taught photography for several years in all kinds of classrooms, for all kinds of learners. And I ask photo students this question too.
“With all the current realities of photography and endless images, why should anyone care about YOUR photos?”
At some point in the course I invite them to explore and write a thoughtful answer to this question that suits them. And I often receive some clichéd but adequate-for-the-assignment response about “capturing memories” (zzzzzz. Upon further thought, next time I teach I may ban this expression from their responses!).
Here’s my answer to this question: Because being alive is an adventure. Creativity affirms our aliveness.
If this response didn’t make you zzzzzzz too, then read on.
Carrying a camera with an intention of taking photos in a mindful way is an invitation to experience your aliveness. It invites you to explore. To look closely. To see something. And when you see it, to spend some time with what you see. Move around what you see, and see from different angles.
There are cameras that take much better photos. Perhaps your smartphone does too, though this is more AI processing these days – making algorithmic choices based on what makes a ‘good’ photograph in the second after you take the photo. That sounds nice, but you’re missing out on the creative act.
There are cameras that take much better photos. Perhaps your smartphone does too, though this is more AI processing these days – making algorhythmic choices based on what makes a ‘good’ photograph in the second after you take the photo. That can look nice, in a general affective way, but you’re missing out on the creative act. Not just missing out – you’re giving your creative agency away.
I imported the photos to my computer and did my own processing. This involves tweaking exposure and color sliders, doing some light Photoshop masking. And yeah sometimes I’ll even just use the default filters from Apple like ‘Dramatic’ or ‘Vivid Cool’. You know what? Those filters are fun and often look great! Or (gasp) I’ll just hit the auto-correct button and let the app make a few choices for me. What I see is that it boosts color saturation and some contrast. Sometimes that’s enough ‘oomph’ to make a photo cool. Sometimes, I don’t like it, and walk it back. This is an intuitive process. Sometimes, I just push sliders around and go with my gut on whether it strikes me. I like generating moods in an image, and these standard app ‘choices’ are often counterintuitive for my eye. These photos from this morning, to me, have a painterly, atmospheric, aged quality. They have soft light and color, lower contrast, lower dynamic range (dark/light value, or, how white are the brightest parts and how black are the darkest parts?). They’re moody. Like an old polaroid. Come and gone. Which, when it comes to a moment of time, is always true about a photograph. I find photography to be inherently about death – something that has ultimately passed. Sweet life, slipping through our fingers. This is not a bad thing, but it is melancholic (think I’m being morbid? Go read Roland Barthes’ Camera Lucida – a book I teach in all my photo classes that leaves most students scratching their heads, but in the long run I trust will haunt them). (Also, notice I avoided the phrase ‘capturing memories’ when in fact that’s all I’m talking about. Did you notice that? haha)
All that said, I’m really not doing anything special. I’m just being playful.
Hanging out here in an exurban neighborhood, as far from a Scottish pilgrimage through the Highlands as can be, what wonders can be seen and witnessed? What creative acts can I bring to reveal the wonders of this moment right now? Can I, with a sense of discovery, playfulness, creativity, bring out the wonders of wherever I find myself?
The point is, anybody can do this, anywhere and anytime. I like going on adventures to special places, but I also do not believe there is such a thing as special places. Right here is special. And, you do not need to be a so-called artist to reveal the specialness of right here and now. Actually, you already are a creative person – you may just not know it, or you have forgotten.
Scotland will be special, and I can’t wait to play with this camera on that route, among the others I will take in the future. The Grand Canyon, the Sierras, Tahoma (Mt. Rainier) are special places I return to over and over. So is my own neighborhood. Anywhere can be special, if you bring your eye to see it and a playfulness – I might call it reverence – to witness and reveal its specialness.
So, what are you waiting for? Go live a creative life.
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more photos below. All these photos were taken on this morning’s walk. For the record, the camera is an OM System Tough TG-7.
