The point of it all.

[Tom dinning]

If there’s one thing this isolation gig has given me, it’s a bloody headache.
Too much time to contemplate, no one to talk to for answers to my questions.
Except Christine, of course.
Like she cares about the shit that goes through my head. She’s too busy gooing at grand children and wondering what’s for dinner.

Let me tell you.
Some days, most days, all day some days, I’m trying to figure this shift out.

What the fuck am I doing? All these picture, of just about everything and anything. For what?
I don’t earn any money from them. I don’t share them much, except what I post here and occasionally another place if I get bored with you guys.

More importantly, I can’t for the life of me figure out why I do it at all. And what a range of subject matter.
I understand the tourist shots, the family stuff. But the rest.
Christine would say, on returning from a holiday, “People won’t want to see this lot. They wouldn’t know where we’ve been and they wouldn’t see the point of a Coke bottle on a wall, or the tail end of a bus.“

Yet I do. Sort of. It’s a compulsion. It’s not about seeing things as they are but how they appear, or could be.
But why would I want to do that?

And it’s not like I know what I’m doing. It’s snapshot, guesswork, rapid response, non thinking, point and press. I even do it when I don’t have a camera.

And I love it all. Surely I must have some shots I took that I don’t like. No!
They don’t rate as beautiful, informative, not even interesting to most.
People who ‘know’ about Photography; the experts, tell me my shots are shit. Actually, they tell me what I did wrong. I don’t care.
People who know about art tell me I’m an artist, or at least have an artistic approach, and I say : “ who cares?”

They are just photos. Thousands of them. I can’t make sense of them, or me.

 

[Asher Kelman]

Tom,

Stop searching!

The giraffe doesn’t have to wonder, “Why the hell do I have to carry such a stupidly long neck. I can’t whack a lion with it!”

Similarly a centipede could be mesmerized by its many feet! But to what end!

Accept the past time!

Photographing is engaging and is a way of looking at things very selectively. There has to be some advantage there!

Each interesting sight we invest enough energy to compose a shot creates more interneuron connections and helps keep us ticking with awareness longer!

Besides, I find them worth my attention!

Asher

 

[Tom dinning]

Easy enough for you to say, Ash.
Less so for me since I am neither a centipede or a giraffe.

The owner of this brain feels, in some way, responsible for maintaining its questioning nature, both in respect of other things and it’s own workings.

On any day, I might look at my right foot and wonder why it ends with toes and not fingers like my hand, or I would consider the nature of hair growth and ponder the varying speeds in which it grows on different parts of my body. And why pubic hair is curly.

More deeply, I would enter a gallery and see more than something that matches the drapes.
I would listen to a commentary and consider if the speaker is a complete moron or just demented.
But I am also aware of the dangers of questioning Christines propensity for cleanliness and mine for chaos.

So, seeking answers to questions relating to what I do and why, seem natural enough, as natural as a crock building a nest or a penguin swimming.

I might suggest this is why we separate ourselves from the more instinctive animals.

Then, in response to your comment I might add: isn’t it strange you wouldn’t wonder.

Or do you, and just being the doctor and telling me not to think in such a way for fear I might explode.

 

[Asher Kelman]

.....exactly!

LOL!

 

[nicolas claris]

If there’s one thing this isolation gig has given me, it’s a bloody headache.
Too much time to contemplate, no one to talk to for answers to my questions.
Except Christine, of course.
Like she cares about the shit that goes through my head. She’s too busy gooing at grand children and wondering what’s for dinner.

Let me tell you.
Some days, most days, all day some days, I’m trying to figure this shift out.

What the fuck am I doing? All these picture, of just about everything and anything. For what?
I don’t earn any money from them. I don’t share them much, except what I post here and occasionally another place if I get bored with you guys.

More importantly, I can’t for the life of me figure out why I do it at all. And what a range of subject matter.
I understand the tourist shots, the family stuff. But the rest.
Christine would say, on returning from a holiday, “People won’t want to see this lot. They wouldn’t know where we’ve been and they wouldn’t see the point of a Coke bottle on a wall, or the tail end of a bus.“

Yet I do. Sort of. It’s a compulsion. It’s not about seeing things as they are but how they appear, or could be.
But why would I want to do that?

And it’s not like I know what I’m doing. It’s snapshot, guesswork, rapid response, non thinking, point and press. I even do it when I don’t have a camera.

And I love it all. Surely I must have some shots I took that I don’t like. No!
They don’t rate as beautiful, informative, not even interesting to most.
People who ‘know’ about Photography; the experts, tell me my shots are shit. Actually, they tell me what I did wrong. I don’t care.
People who know about art tell me I’m an artist, or at least have an artistic approach, and I say : “ who cares?”

They are just photos. Thousands of them. I can’t make sense of them, or me.

This is good food for thoughts Tom, I some time do wonder too…
I may well have some insomnia tonight…