Simplicity

The Flower Pot

Everything is too complicated. Really. Or should I say, we make things too complicated for our own good. Here as I seat pondering a new year, I can’t help but wonder whether my expectations for 2018 will be any different from those I conceived of for the year 2017. After all, what difference does a year make, or should make? I would like to think that with every passing year we become a somewhat better, refined version of ourselves. As our vision narrows with time, the complicated expectations of fame, fortune, and endless adventure are gradually fined tuned to a more personalized set of intentions. This focus was perhaps where our vision should have been all along, but when life is enjoying its boisterous spring time, it surely must be allowed some leeway for its blessed recklessness and exuberance. With time, however, we manage to gradually squeeze the essence of things, just like the concentrated extract of a fine perfume. What really matters gains in potency by the process of discarding the superfluous. During this process, slowness becomes a virtue, and simplicity a much-cherished objective.

And so it goes with my approach to 2018. No need to visit a hundred countries when spending a lot more time in a few would do. No need to live it up in fancy, über-expensive hotels when a quaint b&b in the French countryside would do. No need obsessing over eternal money pursuits, when loved ones are starving for a little more time with us. It is far too easy to become a slave to the constructs in our heads, to that complicated notion of who we should be that always comes at the expense of who we are. Less, with simplicity as its accomplice, may well be secret passage to a life of happiness and bliss. That scarcity, strange as it may sound, may just be the sweet fuel of our dreams and expectations. A new year, a new approach to living and traveling. And if anyone out there, like me, comes to the realization that it would be virtually impossible to see all the stars in the universe, then we all should just pick one, and give it all we’ve got. The journey will be equally rewarding.

 

Wondering What They See

Look Up While Walking

I often wonder what the subjects of my photographs think when they see me with a camera pointing in their general direction. The optimist in me would like to think that what they see is a creative in action, someone who has somehow managed to set himself free of the daily trappings of the world in order to pursue the higher calling, that of creating photographic art. Wouldn’t that be nice. However, I’m not sure that is the case, or at least not the case in the majority of situations. I have no doubt that for some people, finding themselves on the receiving end of a telephoto lens is the functional equivalent of finding themselves unwittingly facing a weapon. Not that they think for a second that the lens will do any bodily harm to them, but rather that their selection as your subject from amongst the crowd could prove to be somewhat of a disconcerting feeling. Why me? Who is this person? Has he or she been following me? Why is that photographer so fixated on me? We could go on forever with these questions.

What the subjects of our photos may not realize is that in the vast majority of cases, photographing them is a form of flattery, of recognizing their uniqueness in a particular setting or situation. Most serious photographers are extremely selective, and when they pick a person or a place as the subject of their photos, rarely it is with the intention of accentuating something negative. Look at a site like Instagram on any day, and what will immediately jump at you is the overwhelming positive nature of the photographs. This applies to photographers of all kinds, from the casual mobile photo enthusiast to the equipment-heavy pro. And while there will always be a few rotten apples in the bunch, their numbers are absolutely minimum compared with the millions of photographers who are using the their skills to tell a happy story. With their captures what they are saying is that you, the subject of their photographic interest, are special, a key figure in a creative process, and the unique protagonist of a story in the making. The photographer may be insignificant to you, but you are not insignificant to them. In that brief fraction of a second when the shutter clicks, you immediately become an integral part of a larger photographic narrative the world is eager to see, or at the very least, should see.  The photos that will be part of that story will remind people that there is a lot more to the world than their own, limited surroundings.  They will remind them that humanity is constantly on the move in a world that is forever changing.  The photographs, like the great travel narratives, will be part of the living record of society, of its people, and of the places that occupied our imaginations and time. The necessary proof of the wonders and tribulations of the world we all lived in.