Still Learning To See

Still learning…

I’ve been making photographs for sixty years. Mainly of what is termed the (non-human) natural world, like the flowers of the nearly extinct American Chestnut tree above where bees will soon be busy collecting nectar and pollen. Of course humans ARE are actually part of that this magnificently spinning world, at times so large a part we now have a new term—Anthropocene—and at other times, as in these days of Covid, humans are pretty insignificant compared to a microscopic virus that can quickly adapt to life.

This is what remains of an old Sugar maple tree, one of a dozen that grew in a stone fence for over a hundred years. While we may call the tree “dead,” we now know it continues to live—below ground—in ways less visible but still vital and important.

Either way, much of my photography has still been about learning to see what is right in front of us, large and small, and all interconnected. These past few weeks—mainly as a way to stay centered, bit of an antidote to the firehose of horrifying news—I’ve marveled at the way the wind moves as seen in the flight of birds, the motions of the tree leaves, and the way clouds not only move but grow and shrink. Those winds, of course, are all fueled by the Sun, as is all of life.

I have been remiss at posting here of late, and since mounting several large public showings of my work, have mostly posted on ofter social media platforms. I find them an unsatisfying way to share my work. Sharing my work is the primary reason I still pick up a camera: to share what I see with others. Social media too often plays into simply pressing the “like” button after a second or two of viewing a low-quality image. And it is challenging to put the images into a context that might make a difference for the future of the world our children and grandchildren are growing up in.

I’m proposing to post here more frequently, still framing what I share around an image or two but adding in words inspired by them. Honestly, those words will often be political and, if it matters to you, edging as far “left” as this 75-year old can be. Mostly my politics are about how I am still learning to see both our human place on this planet and the many similarities among all living things, humans included. Of course, because the threats to life itself are so great nowadays, some of what I write may seem divisive—honestly, some days I feel I should just cast my ballot for a complete Covid takeover! I will, however, do my best to be responsible for what I say and hope it prompts important conversations.

I ask that you share this post as widely as you can because I want to share my work, both images and words, as widely as possible, especially between now and the US elections in November. You can help me make that difference and I promise to not abuse that request or ask for money or try to sell you anything. Thank you for sticking with me over the years—my first post was December 2011—and I hope you will enjoy wandering back through my previous postings. If you’d like to be notified when I post, just leave me your email address here.

This world we live in can be so remarkably full of wonder—here a few sparkles of sunlight and some bits of blue sky painting their ways across the surface of a small stream.
This entry was published on July 2, 2024 at 11:51 am and is filed under John Snell, John Snell Photographer, Photograph, Reflections, Trees, Water, www.johnsnell.photography. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

2 thoughts on “Still learning…

  1. Joyce Kahn's avatarJoyce Kahn on said:

    john, please keep me on your email list. I love seeing your photos and reading your thoughts about life. Art and life are all about learning to see.

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