A Decade In Search Of Truth

In 1999 I began one last project, one that I thought would define my career as a photographer, and nudge forward perhaps my career as a writer. It started off to be my journey, a last journey with cameras in hand. A few years later I was, I thought, embarking down Frost's road less traveled.

Now, a decade later, I found myself looking back to the future. Wild Orphans once again is surfacing as my photographic savior, my sanity check, I need it. As NY Times op-ed columnist Frank Rich, "A decade that began with the “reality” television craze exemplified by “American Idol” and “Survivor” — both blissfully devoid of any reality whatsoever — spiraled into a wholesale flight from truth." As the last hours of 2009 flicker out, I realize I need 2010 to be a flight back to truth.

Appropriately, the decade's last December epitomized our collective disengagement from the truth - Tiger Woods, the UN Climate Change Conference in Copenhagen and the US sending 30,000 more troops to "win" a game that has no finish line, buzzer or top-of-the-ninth - or maybe our decade of delinquent decision-making was exclusively due to “bad intelligence,” (to coin a phrase by Bush administration alumni), that pushed us into these fiascoes. Unfortunately the tigers of truth, print journalists, are as rare as their Asian counterparts, and as the decade comes to a close, we are watch their habitat disappear as well. In Washington DC they opened the Newseum — "a 250,000-square-foot museum of news — offers visitors an experience that blends five centuries of news history with up-to-the-second technology and hands-on exhibits." As the director is quoted on the Newseum's own website, "Visitors will come away with a better understanding of news and the important role it plays in all of our lives,". Frighteningly we don't build museums to the living and vibrant, but to the vanishing and disappeared - is news habitat gone?

Much of 2010 I will be back on the road, exploring this planet, personal and public perambulations. In search of truth I already have some sense of where to look, but know many new roads will appear--filled with excitement and that tingling trepidation when perambulating on a precipice. But the search for truth will be alive, and that's what I crave and that's why so much of life is "blissfully devoid of any reality whatsoever — spiraled into a wholesale flight from truth." it's not alive. It's as if we have become our own avatars. Gleefully cocooning ourselves into our make-believe reality. And most frightening of all... as the climate conference in Copenhagen insanely pointed out - inside that reality we don't need to care.

I care. I have but this solitary existence. I have no guarantee of second chances, no do-overs,no redemption after missing the warning, or as the chorus rings out:

This is it
Make no mistake where you are
your back's to the corner
This is it
Don't be a fool anymore
This is it
the waiting is over

No room to run
No way to hide
No time for wondering why
It's here, the moment is now

So about Frost's road less traveled. I only know roads are man-made, and that any new road is not so much littered with leaves unworn by human footfalls, rather shiny tchotchkes of world blinded by it's own make-believe reality. "Follow them, use them and forget them.... Don't park. [roads] will get you there, but I tell you, don't ever try to arrive. Arrival is the death of inspiration." (Ernst Hass) Truth lives in inspiration.

A poster ad featuring Tiger Woods forebodingly chimes, "tougher than ever to be a Tiger." Paradoxically over the past decade the world has discovered that too, hiding from one lie, while not questioning the other. The caption on another Accenture Woods poster reads "It’s what you do next that counts." True enough for Tiger in 2010, but not just Tiger. Inside the cocoon I think it's easy for life to imitate art because you can never stand back far enough to get a proper perspective.

Nike’s chairman, Phil Knight, told The Sports Business Journal, in perhaps the most prophetic quote of the decade's closing month, that when Woods’s career "is over, you’ll look back on these indiscretions as a minor blip." Decades hence I think we will look back on this first ten year span of the new Millennium and realize there were too many "blips", I hope not too many for us too survive. Those blips, like the make-believe reality TV shows that launched the decade, held no truth.

Tomorrow morning is just another morning, but it begins a departure. I have reconstructed a camera bag - filled with all new Canon gear, three decades Nikon left behind; I have the love of my life that will see me through my days on this Earth; I travel first to India for a friend's wedding, a global wedding in a sense; then to Europe to understand why we are willing to suffering to know the truth about ourselves; and to East Africa in search of where all new roads began.

Stepping out of the monocular rut

The Ernst Haas quote I posted a few days ago, "I am not interested in shooting new things - I am interested to see things new.", popped up again today when a friend sent a link to this short film "Kudan". It's a nine minute animated voyage through a different world. Voyages should be like that - journeys, perambulations in lands unfamiliar. I guess that's why I have always been passionate about exploring nature - a different world full of surprise that always awaits. Nature inevitably forces me to step out of my monocular rut. Other artists and art forms can do that as well, and I'm always delighted when I find an artist or work, in any medium, that pricks my perspective.

A quote I use in the early moments of a live presentation I do called, Wanderings on a Wild Planet, reads, "Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath away." I am unapologetically selfishness about those take my breath away moments every day - I'm addicted. Yes, a life on Earth junkie. I can't imagine a more amazing place than this, Earth. Every several hours light spills upon it, magically, miraculously turning everything about me into something new and full of discovery - how frigg'n cool is that! Then, so our eyes don't become dulled, impassive to the magic, the light fades and goes out; left are but the faintest fireflies twinkling in the dimensionless firmament, reminders that the light will return.

Photography is very tricky - it's about seeing, with two eyes, a richly influenced multi-dimensional world, framing it, refining it through a single viewfinder and lens (using just one eye), then creating an image to be viewed once again in multi-dimensions. When done exceptionally well, truly an heroic feat! Mostly we are awash with thoughtless, poorly executed, mountains of mediocrity - which does dull our eyes and makes us impassive to the magic. So it vital to voyage through a different world, to prick our perspective.

The film below, Kudan, is wonderful because it is not what I would have imagined - until now there were no people-headed cows or word tubes in my world. There are fractal clouds, but not imagined in the same way. So, today, Kudan, became part of a Friday afternoon's wonderful voyage.

"I am not interested in shooting new things - I am interested to see things new."
--Ernst Haas

Falling Light

I laid yesterday afternoon and watched the light fall into dusk. That wouldn't be all that unusual for a photographer I suppose except that I was sick, stuck lying on my couch, listening to my partner Jenn read aloud from a book about Cook's voyages in Australia, and soaked in the warm late summer sun as it slowly journeyed to and beyond the horizon through my front window, over the garden and distance west hills. What made it unusual was that it was a journey over four hours.

It was an absolutely gorgeous self-indulging journey and one I would never have made if I had not been sick. For the first time in many years, nearly a decade, since an afternoon on the northern Serengeti, I just watched light. I watched it do that most magical thing - change the world.

It reminded me how impatient we are to not indulge ourselves in such an incredible journey. How for granted we take each daily event of magic. And perhaps why there are so few great photographs, and yet so many cameras.

When I was very young in my to-be-a-photographer journey my friend Ernst Haas had a stuccatoed monologue with me one afternoon, what I wrote down from it later was - "Go for a walk one day with the light, you will come back changed."

If you look at his work - B&W or color - you can see many walks, countless walks, walks with and without people, walks in cities, in countrysides, walks at night, and in the heat of the day, but all these walks have one common companion - Light. I think he took far fewer photos than he did walks with light. Thinking back on my precious time with him I'm certain of it. And that idea has triggered a rebirth in my photography, my need to create photographs, a need for more walks; and an idea for an essay, maybe a book, at the least a way to start re-seeing the world I perambulate - A walk with Light.