Photographers, like all artists, have periods of doubt, struggles financially and physically, highs and lows of fame/recognition for our work, and sometimes an unhealthy attitude of superiority simply because we practice a gift (we have been given). The art of seeing is a gift. We did not earn it though. It is graciously bestowed. But it must be practiced, not only to continue to make a living, but for personal growth and creative contentment, for attempting to develop our own way of seeing, and even for a much-needed sense of self-awareness in light of our truest place in the overall scheme of things.
I was given my first camera (a Pentax K-1000) by my father while in college in Texas when I met him in Colorado for one of his business trips. I had just signed up for a required photography class for my then advertising major in. That class made it impossible for me to continue on with a major in advertising and I switched to photography. I found that working outdoors in the natural realm produced a continual attitude of gratitude, as I instinctively knew I was not responsible for that which I was seeking to capture. (Colorado was a perfect place for this to occur). And the more I studied natural light, the less my attitude of pride found refuge in an already over-blown ego. In the studio, where I spent many years learning how to light people, products, sets, and still life (attempting to reproduce what I learned about natural light indoors), I never found this same attitude within me. It was always self-centered.
When I am working outdoors (usually very early in the morning here on the Highlands Plateau of Western North Carolina), there is no doubt stirring within me about what I am out there for, or if a particular scene I am attempting to capture will generate income at some point. The passion and the pleasure I sense in witnessing early morning light @ 4,000 ft as it dispenses a lovely grace and quiet power upon the landscape at an hour when most are sleeping, or in a rush to get to work, is a gift! But I am no more entitled to it than anyone else. I simply obey my calling. (And rising at 4:30-5:00am does get a little bit more difficult as time goes by!)
I am reminded that all we see and photograph of the natural environment is not our own. Yes, even when we so casually place our copyright symbol next to our photo credit. the scen is not our own, only our interpretation of it. This produces a profound sense of gratitude for the awareness and the desire to witness and share our visual records with others - what we have seen, and felt, and even thought while attempting to capture what is before our cameras. Many times I fail at capturing that internal response, a spiritual connection, a personal ambiguity that is difficult to capture, and so I keep going 'out there' to try again and again, and again. It is often a humbling thing, but nevertheless rewarding even when I fail at the digital capture. The great 20th century master photographer, Ansel Adams, was admittedly not an outwardly 'religious' man, but he was once quoted as saying, "Sometimes I think I arrive at a scene just when God would have someone click the shutter!" Amen...
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