January 17, 2005

The world through a photographic lens?

  Since my recent interest in photography took root, I have found myself often wishing I had the camera in my hands to capture a particular moment. These moments range from the odd, to the humorous, to the obvious, each with its own quirk to set it apart from the array of everyday images. The other day as I was photocopying at work I glimpsed out the window to catch a squirrel greedily snacking on a near full bagel slice. To see the little vermin attacking his treasure of what to me would be trash was humorous yet personal. Somewhere an unknowing luncher had discarded these item, fulfilling this squirrel’s dream. Another moment occurred as I drove South down Main street. Looking up to the street light swaying in the foreground of a brilliant blue sky, I noticed not one, not two, but three jet emission streams approaching collision. Their locations were undoubtfully miles apart yet for the brief moment in my seat I witnessed the would be impact of three distant air vessels. Their twin puffy tails slowing etching there paths through an unappreciative sky.

            Once while walking through San Felasco Park, I saw a tree had split at the base to completely fall over on its side. I was struck with a twang of humor as I considered: did it fall? No one was here to witness the event so tragic to this tree, yet here it layed. Bent and broken amidst the full life of the forest.

           Daily I admit with regret that I wish I had the ability to capture a particular moment or image on film. What is this compulsion to take with me something that is not mine? I am simply a passerby, a witness in every sense of the word. An innocent bystander to the creation in which I stand in awe. Perhaps one day I will replace the battery in my camera, that simple task which would remedy my frustration of empty handedness. But perhaps I am not meant to capture these moments. For in the very essence of capturing I am removing the spontaneous or coincidental nature of my moment. Moments are not to be owned. They are not ours to hang on a wall and boast of. They are mysterious and wondrous side creations in the all-encompassing world of the living. A friend once told me of the debate among artists whether or not photography is an art for there is the fact that an instrument restrains the person from truly creating. To be an artist is to create. To be a photographer is to capture. Capture a moment which is not yours, and make it your own. I am no photographer; if I were a true artist I would draw elaborate pictorials of my captured moments and truly make them my own. By as fate would have it, I lack the natural gift of image construction. I am good with my eye. My eye is the portal through which all life hangs. It is through this eye which my mind is given stimulation. These in turn lead to manipulation which perhaps is the birth of artistic creativity. Yet it all stems from an organic image not of my creation. A moment in time unowned, ungoverned, and unknown to the rest of the life surrounding it. So no, if I ever decide to snap a lens toward one of the enigmas, it will be to share, not to create. To provide immortality to a single moment in time which otherwise would be lost. My images are not of personal reflection, rather a method by which to share the world with the unseeing audience. 

Some really great photographs...

John Moran Swamp Dragons