So much of my enjoyment of making photographs comes from the experience of making them as opposed to the photographs themselves.
Walking in the open woods today with my sister, the crisp air tempered by sunshine, the sound of the oaks leaves as we walked, the good company of a wandering conversation. I was certainly prepared, at least to some extent, to make photographs but my intention was to simply be where I was, seeing what was there.
I find it true that the power of many photographs is what they bring with them in addition to the visual image. Even for photographs made by others, I bring my own experiences and remembrances to the process as I create my experience of viewing the image. The photograph has no power to exist on its own, unseen.
We ended up walking around an old, abandoned house in the woods. I could easily imagine it alive with a family, surrounded by the dozen or more large trees that dotted the space that had been a yard which was now filled with dense undergrowth of saplings and vines. The roof structure had mostly failed, leaving it open to the weather and the woodland creatures.
In the late afternoon light I found myself thinking of the transient qualities of life, if I can say that without seeming trite. Like a photograph, isn’t it what I bring to life that gives it life?
