We are our own adventure.
I struggled to come up with a title for this entry and apparently ended up on that vague sentiment. I also don’t have a plan for how my thoughts will unfold here, so I suppose we’ll just see where they wander. I guess all that ties into the title in some degree? Alright, I’ll stop stalling. So to start, when I consider the concept of ‘adventure’, it has always been an external perspective, right? New places. New people. New cultures. New consumption. But what has been thrown into my awareness recently is the adventure that perpetuates all around us individually. Part of that is, yes, the new places that might be just outside your door that you just haven’t seen or explored yet. And then there’s the internal adventure. New emotions, new ways of thinking and communicating. Today, sitting here, the importance of all forms of adventure - those external and internal - have never been clearer. It has been quite the ride lately, so let’s talk about it.
Earlier this year I shared how I wanted to be more deliberate in my photography workflow - fewer snapshots, more compositions. I wanted to do more thinking within the craft, perhaps be more emotional with it. I changed up a few things, devoted more time to learning, and started going out with the one intention of taking photographs. But over time the process still felt… too much like a process. I enjoyed being out for the sake of being out, but I wasn’t feeling the connection to it that I was hoping for. And the results reflected that lack of emotion, at least to me. So what should one do in such a situation? Stop. Put away the camera. Walk around and interact with your eyes open, constantly darting around your environment. Absorb what’s around you, and what’s around you every single day. Look at the trees and recognize the wisdom contained in the shapes of their bark and branches. Look at the rivers and how they embrace the rocks and boulders that are obstacles in their way. Look at the mountains and feel the safe yet forceful nature of their towering presence. Look at people. Stare into their eyes and share their place in the cosmos. Find different forms of energy and see the interaction with your own. Create adventure by focusing on the intricate details and recognizing how you are responding to and learning from those details. To tie it all back, recognize and feel the emotion in an experience before trying to capture, or worse, create it.
It took a little time, but eventually the thought popped in my head: “Wow. This is worth photographing. I’m feeling this.” Unplanned. No camera in sight. Just a place and time as stumbled upon. A certain detail that stood out to me. And then it happened again. And again. The thing about these moments? All within a few miles of my place in the White Mountains. Readily accessible. Alright, so let’s go back with a camera and hang out for awhile. Discuss - internally or with a dear friend - and let the thoughts and conversation expand and wander without restraint. Challenge the depth of your thinking and your emotions. As that happens, what do you start looking at? What becomes worth photographing then? It will change. What we choose to look at changes with how and what we’re thinking, what emotions we’re feeling. Focus on that. Pay attention to those internal moments. This is the adventure close to home. This is the adventure we can create.
And what’s more? It will persist as long as we allow it to. I think about this when I’m asked why I have an interest in photography, and when I’m in a particular creative rut. The reality is that any given scene will never offer the same experience twice. I could return to Cook’s Corner (above) a million times in a million lifetimes and there will always be something new for me to notice in it. Time drives constant change. How the water moves, the weathering process of the trestle, even the graffiti. The seasons change the environment and all that comes with that, but the minutes within the day change the color and the subjects within the scene as the light moves across the sky. The things we perceive in a moment will never be the same again. But it’s even more than that. Just think about how much detail there is to focus on in such a place - all the stones and the cracks and grooves within them, the way the colors of each stone look under the water, the shades of rust on the trestle and each rivet holding it together, the trees and the position of their branches. The list goes on and on. A million visits in a million lifetimes, and I could find a new detail to focus on every single time. And in the event I want to return to a certain detail? Well, time will have changed it considerably, whether it’s been minutes or years since I’ve last paid it any attention.
This is all well and good, but what drove these recent thoughts? Believe it or not, that’s a bit more complicated. The last few weeks, as I said, have been a ride. Maybe I’ll tell you about it someday. For now, I’m just appreciating the reset in perspective, attention to detail in my surroundings, and what feels like a deeper level of thinking and emotional presence. And the best part is, this feels like only the beginning.
Ready. Set. Go.
