The Unbearable Light Nest of Being

My daily walks through our old growth forest have me toggle between having a telescope in one eye and a microscope in the other. Materially, my contemplative photography swings wildly back and forth between lush sweeping land, sea or skyscapes to a fascination with seeing the upclose details of common objects/subjects found in nature.

I am mesmerized by the quality of light in the winter. Despite the bluish glint that bounces off the snow, the sun seems to cast a more amberesque tone upon the world, especially when I zoom, zoom, zoom in on tiny fragments of nature, like this lacy moss that seems to cling tenuously to branches, as though it is blown about, stem to stem.

There is something so sweetly satisfying about capturing images through the lens of my third eye. This photographic eye, which is obviously untrained, and yet, trains itself upon such visual phantasms with glee and delight.

I see what I see, and somehow the lens always translates that into something yet again. For me, that makes contemplative photography pay double dividends. It is always feeding me to be in the process of pointing my lens and exhaling fully before triggering a shot. I am a steady hunter of light. And, it often pays me again, when I find something more in the representation, a quality that elevates the 'natural' to 'art'. I offer you a bit of fluffy moss not exactly how I found it, windblown upon a branch. But highlighted, framed and edited to draw your eye to here, not (t)here.

Perhaps, in that, you might also experience an emotion, or a shift in perspective, or something nuanced and subtle that is pleasant. My intention is to offer something sensory out of a flat image.

As John Burroughs is reported to say (because Internet memes are oh-so-trustworthy!) "I go to nature to be soothed and healed, and to have my senses put in order".