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Mental displacement

Tom dinning

Registrant*
A33F1244-906C-4D7A-8D4D-A6E23BCE8057.jpeg


I do find it fascinating how the brain can switch from one thing to another with such precision, often leaving little of its past thought behind.

Such I the case with photographing.

One can be totally in grossed with an image with all its paraphernalia and only moments later, discussing the way home or what might be appropriate for dinner.

To the extreme, I have found myself moving quickly from taking photographs to other matters, including the menu and way home.

So much so I no longer bother at all. My cameras are covered with dust, my photographs simply over marks on the wall, my interest has diminished to less than a smouldering coal.

I painted the inside of the house last week. I was pleased with the results but satisfied that, in my lifetime, it won’t get done again, by me at least.

Now I stand back and look at the trail I’ve left behind littered with a multitude of images that, even now, fail to replace the memories I have.

What is clear to me I should the unanswered questions photography has raised and the equally unsatisfactory answers I and others have provided.

The challenge has gone.

For me, the only way to see forward is to be confident of never finding an answer, always doubting, always unsure. But this is in itself a challenge I have grown tired from because I have sought solutions from others. Such a futile exercise.

Now I am on a different path. One that only I can resolve any problems, overcome any obstacles, answer any questions. It’s a personal goal for which no one else can participate. The final solution will be my own death at best.

Each day I deal with the pain, exhilaration, determination, resolution that comes with a personal struggle.

All sounds rather dramatic and drastic, doesn’t it? Well, you’d never notice. It’s that intimate. And no one will notice if I succeed or fail. For there is no failure or success visible. Nor is there a point at which I can say I am finished until my final breath.

No luck, no prayers, no medication, no free advice, no encouragement needed. Just me.

I haven’t felt better about myself for a long time.


A7A70382-7597-4EC5-87D1-13ED2884425A.jpeg
 

Asher Kelman

OPF Owner/Editor-in-Chief
2367


Anyone who can design this composition is not on any knife edge of sanity.

This is original, thought stimulating and open ended to allow us unfettered exploration.

But, I would like to know, who’s frame pictures on display are shown here. I can’t read the labels on the wall!

Asher
 

James Lemon

Well-known member
View attachment 2362

I do find it fascinating how the brain can switch from one thing to another with such precision, often leaving little of its past thought behind.

Such I the case with photographing.

One can be totally in grossed with an image with all its paraphernalia and only moments later, discussing the way home or what might be appropriate for dinner.

To the extreme, I have found myself moving quickly from taking photographs to other matters, including the menu and way home.

So much so I no longer bother at all. My cameras are covered with dust, my photographs simply over marks on the wall, my interest has diminished to less than a smouldering coal.

I painted the inside of the house last week. I was pleased with the results but satisfied that, in my lifetime, it won’t get done again, by me at least.

Now I stand back and look at the trail I’ve left behind littered with a multitude of images that, even now, fail to replace the memories I have.

What is clear to me I should the unanswered questions photography has raised and the equally unsatisfactory answers I and others have provided.

The challenge has gone.

For me, the only way to see forward is to be confident of never finding an answer, always doubting, always unsure. But this is in itself a challenge I have grown tired from because I have sought solutions from others. Such a futile exercise.

Now I am on a different path. One that only I can resolve any problems, overcome any obstacles, answer any questions. It’s a personal goal for which no one else can participate. The final solution will be my own death at best.

Each day I deal with the pain, exhilaration, determination, resolution that comes with a personal struggle.

All sounds rather dramatic and drastic, doesn’t it? Well, you’d never notice. It’s that intimate. And no one will notice if I succeed or fail. For there is no failure or success visible. Nor is there a point at which I can say I am finished until my final breath.

No luck, no prayers, no medication, no free advice, no encouragement needed. Just me.

I haven’t felt better about myself for a long time.


View attachment 2361
Tom

Can you tell us about some of the pictures you didn't take and wished you did ? Where are those memories buried and how many times did you let this happen Tom? Did you sell all your camera gear for a new motor bike?

Best, regards
James
 

Tom dinning

Registrant*
Tom

Can you tell us about some of the pictures you didn't take and wished you did ? Where are those memories buried and how many times did you let this happen Tom? Did you sell all your camera gear for a new motor bike?

Best, regards
James
james, I don’t have any untaken pictures. Nor do I wish I had. Each image I have taken is a moment spent. Each image I didn’t take is a moment spent on something else. Photographs have been an accompaniment to the rhythm of life, an interesting and different way of seeing.
The memories I have buried rise to the surface like froth on a lake. They are different each time and have considerable impermanence. They mix and mingle into stories I’ve not yet lived fully, like a badly edited movie.
I have many regrets. These are the memories where I would choose otherwise if I were to have the opportunity to relive. But I know that’s not possible so I learn to live with the anguish of unfulfilment.
the cameras gather dust. I’ve given away some. I keep a small one in case I need to remind myself of what I once did.

I think I need something I can do that is not under the critical eye of others. That’s when freedom is stifled. I’d much prefer to deal with the laws of nature than the rules of composition, aesthetics and morals.

as Asher would say, the motorcycle is a metaphor for all I want to achieve. It doesn’t seem much but at my age and physical condition it’s as big a challenge as I’ve had. The thing is the challenge could quite well be fatal. I have every intention of it not being so but as you know there are no guarantees. Just possibilities.
ive started the physical and mental preparation. I’ve done the research. I’ve done the courses. Ow I wait.
why wait? It’s part of the process. Patience is paramount.
Thanks for your interest.
Tom
 

Tom dinning

Registrant*

Anyone who can design this composition is not on any knife edge of sanity.

This is original, thought stimulating and open ended to allow us unfettered exploration.

But, I would like to know, who’s frame pictures on display are shown here. I can’t read the labels on the wall!

Asher
all relevant information is in front of you, Ash.
Work with that.
 

Asher Kelman

OPF Owner/Editor-in-Chief
its a good feeling, Doug. The only person I can blame or argue with is me. And I am responsible for or to no one, if I chose.
It I hope you do not choose that!

After all, a lot of folk around you count on you as a valued part of their universe!

So we often limit our own freedom of choice for that reason.

At least while we can!

Enjoy the bike. Take some French bread in one pocket and a chunk of cheddar cheese and save room for that little camera!

Asher
 
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