I had a dream once of a soldier's death. Somewhere, alone in the endless sands of the East. One burning piece of shrapnel fried it's way past a now broken ribcage and into the body of a derelict man. Sun spilled from it's molten core like lava at it's mid-day boiling point. Sweat drowned his face. He laid back against a weathered stone. His hand had occupied itself against the flow of blood to the point of numbness. There, in the moment of one last breath, there was a brief second of peace, buried beneath the familiar warmth of the sun; followed by a loss of all senses, as it slowly fell from warm, to a blanket of nothingness. His mind returned once again to the ether that it had been created from.
I blinked awake. Not startled. The morning was calm. I was somewhere in the world. Did the man dream of my life upon his final breath? Did I awake as a continuation of the consciousness of a lost body?
One day I made a point to walk to the shoreline in Santa Monica, by myself, just to allow my feet to embrace the water without distraction. I tried snapping a few photographs of the water running in and through my toes, if only to join the rest of the world in this endeavor. The light sound of children playing and people talking seemed washed out by the froth of a rolling wave. Is the horizon the nothingness we see when we escape this world? Is it the jumping point from one consciousness to the next? I've gathered at this point in my life, I will never stop contemplating the possibilities.
I finished reading The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion a few days ago. It is about the loss of Joan's husband, her account of their lives together, and the days after his removal. I had hoped tapping into her writing would help alleviate some of my own thoughts on the matter of death. Instead, it put my own world into perspective.
I found sanctuary in Joan's matter-of-fact speaking about the life of a writer, her jet-setting ways across the country and world in pursuit of the life she wanted. She didn't dwell too much on any particular adventure, but made apparent a life of moment's notice dinners across the country, just because. It made me think of cosmic energy. The atomic flow of the universe. The thought of being. The thought of being atomic matter, pushing energy waves with our own social behavior and the way it pushes forward.
I've been thinking about photography, in the sense of, why shoot photos? The only suitable answer I have found about doing anything in the world, is to make the most impact into the push of the cosmic wave.
Frequently, I watch old concert footage on YouTube by popular artists of the '60's to today. I watch the audience gather in its hundreds of thousands, all focused on one figure who is on stage. So much energy, emotion, passion being pushed from the artist, and in return given back by his/her audience. I dream one day I can make an impact on the world in which hundreds, or millions can be affected, and will feel 'something' from my creation. Maybe my entire career falls into the hand of a single photograph and my only contribution to this "cosmic push" as it were, is in the eyes of one refugee somewhere in a distant land. Maybe the only thing I ever do is inspire the right person to be the one to do it. Either way, if I do nothing, I've learned, the energy I can send remains untouched. It remains locked up. Useless.
How can I, under this notion, be ungrateful if someone was to "steal" my work, take my watermark off, and put it out into the world? I'm a creator to push the idle air of the universe into a cosmic wind of inspiration, whether for myself, or others. To do nothing would be selfish. To not help others learn what I do, so that they can understand, improve, and work toward perfection of our artistic pursuits, would be equally selfish. Though, to want to do exactly as I do, would require you to see the world exactly how I see it. It's impossible. I've already lived a life of 29 years unlike anyone else. When I pick up my [insert any camera here] and shoot with my [insert any lens here] and process it with [insert photo-editing program here] --
all I'm channeling is my life and carving my vision into the world with how I visualize it; photography has become my dream of Earth.
I blinked awake. Not startled. The morning was calm. I was somewhere in the world. Did the man dream of my life upon his final breath? Did I awake as a continuation of the consciousness of a lost body?
One day I made a point to walk to the shoreline in Santa Monica, by myself, just to allow my feet to embrace the water without distraction. I tried snapping a few photographs of the water running in and through my toes, if only to join the rest of the world in this endeavor. The light sound of children playing and people talking seemed washed out by the froth of a rolling wave. Is the horizon the nothingness we see when we escape this world? Is it the jumping point from one consciousness to the next? I've gathered at this point in my life, I will never stop contemplating the possibilities.
I finished reading The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion a few days ago. It is about the loss of Joan's husband, her account of their lives together, and the days after his removal. I had hoped tapping into her writing would help alleviate some of my own thoughts on the matter of death. Instead, it put my own world into perspective.
I found sanctuary in Joan's matter-of-fact speaking about the life of a writer, her jet-setting ways across the country and world in pursuit of the life she wanted. She didn't dwell too much on any particular adventure, but made apparent a life of moment's notice dinners across the country, just because. It made me think of cosmic energy. The atomic flow of the universe. The thought of being. The thought of being atomic matter, pushing energy waves with our own social behavior and the way it pushes forward.
I've been thinking about photography, in the sense of, why shoot photos? The only suitable answer I have found about doing anything in the world, is to make the most impact into the push of the cosmic wave.
Frequently, I watch old concert footage on YouTube by popular artists of the '60's to today. I watch the audience gather in its hundreds of thousands, all focused on one figure who is on stage. So much energy, emotion, passion being pushed from the artist, and in return given back by his/her audience. I dream one day I can make an impact on the world in which hundreds, or millions can be affected, and will feel 'something' from my creation. Maybe my entire career falls into the hand of a single photograph and my only contribution to this "cosmic push" as it were, is in the eyes of one refugee somewhere in a distant land. Maybe the only thing I ever do is inspire the right person to be the one to do it. Either way, if I do nothing, I've learned, the energy I can send remains untouched. It remains locked up. Useless.
How can I, under this notion, be ungrateful if someone was to "steal" my work, take my watermark off, and put it out into the world? I'm a creator to push the idle air of the universe into a cosmic wind of inspiration, whether for myself, or others. To do nothing would be selfish. To not help others learn what I do, so that they can understand, improve, and work toward perfection of our artistic pursuits, would be equally selfish. Though, to want to do exactly as I do, would require you to see the world exactly how I see it. It's impossible. I've already lived a life of 29 years unlike anyone else. When I pick up my [insert any camera here] and shoot with my [insert any lens here] and process it with [insert photo-editing program here] --
all I'm channeling is my life and carving my vision into the world with how I visualize it; photography has become my dream of Earth.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
heathen:
Pretty heavy thoughts to start your day. You write them beautifully. Both your words and your talent for photography allow you to share your vision of world and for that... I'm grateful.
louisiana:
My roommate just went to see Joan Didion speak a few days ago. He said it was exactly as somber as one would expect it to be.