A fabulous destiny

It’s been a while between posts which has been unfortunate as I do enjoy writing. While it will be some time yet before things settle down for me I’m taking a rare opportunity of quietude to not only let people know I am still around but also to give myself a chance to do something different from the current hectic and tiring routine of the past weeks.

In a previous post I wrote about life throwing us curved balls every now and then. Recently it seems like I’ve had a full innings of them. Attending funerals of friends, helping out my ageing in-laws, looking after my father who recently took a curved ball himself after 82 years of good health and, among other things, having to justify the existence of my team at work, in effect putting the careers of ten people in my hands. No pressure. But such is life and at least I can still say I have nothing to complain about.

In any case all of this has meant little time for myself. Little time to reflect, no time to write (twitter doesn’t count, right?), no time to get creative. But this will pass and I’ll be able to pick up my camera again, make photos more regularly and write about all the weird and wonderful things that pop into my head.

For now I will keep it simple and write about three things which find a commonality in the one thing that we all too often take for granted. Life.

Starting with death.

I attended my first funeral when I was young. I don’t recall exactly how young I was or who’s funeral it was but I have memories of everyone dressed in black and most people crying and sobbing, some almost uncontrollably. Over the years funerals have changed to the point that now people talk about celebrating a life rather than mourning a death. People, for the most part no longer dress in black and while there is still sadness and tears there is also smiles and laughter as people eulogise about the good times and share anecdotes and memories filled with love and happiness. Funerals are reminders that life is indeed short and that death is the only guarantee we get at birth. There will be good times, there will be bad times and there is no certainty that these will be fairly distributed and despite the occasional self-serving assurance from “self-help” gurus, there is probably little that we can do about it. Except, perhaps, for appreciating the wonder of life itself and being grateful for it. Starting each day with thoughts of gratitude may well be one of the best ways to make the most of life. Life is merely a bunch of moments. Moments of joy and pain and kindness and anger and rest and toil and clarity and confusion and courage and fear and they are all precious because each moment leads, sometimes gently, sometimes joltingly into the next. And it is these sorts of moments that make up the stories we hear in eulogies at funerals.

Moving on to limbo.

There is a question which occasionally gets discussed and which came up at one of the funerals I attended: Would it be better to know from birth how long each of our lives will be? Some say yes, some no and some are not sure. It’s an amusing question. “How long” is a variable for each of us. Death is the constant. On the rare and unfortunate occasion we may get an answer to “how long?” it is invariably… too short. And yet, even without knowing exactly how long, we all know with absolute certainty that our days are numbered. And yet, inexplicably, so many lives are lived in limbo, each precious moment passing by unnoticed because the mind continues to look ahead into a future that may never come. Or maybe we find ourselves arguing some totally unimportant point with those who are most important to us when instead we could just hold their hand and reach out with our heart in a quiet moment of appreciation. At the risk of sounding like a scratched record, this is why I am so grateful for and appreciative of photography. Photography, with practice and perhaps preferably without agenda, offers me an opportunity to tune into any given moment with such clarity and purposefulness that a sense of eternity replaces the burden placed on me by the concept of time. There is little point in searching for the meaning of life if in the process I fail to see the wonder of each passing moment. As the amount of time ahead of me becomes much less than the amount of time behind me, I have come to realise that life will hold little meaning unless it is lived, pure and simple. Lived with awareness and gratitude all the way through to my eventual and inescapable destiny.

And finally, this brings me to Le Fabuleux Destin d’Amélie Poulain (The Fabulous Destiny of Amelie Poulain).

Recently, amid the chaotic events that have occupied my time, I did manage to find the time to watch “Amelie” with my 16 year old son after he asked if I could get him the DVD. I was surprised by his choice but equally delighted as this movie is a joy to behold. It’s quirky in a way only the French can pull off but it is so rich in meaning and so full of nuance that just like a treasured book it can be viewed many times, each time offering something new. The cinematography in this movie (shot in the gorgeously photogenic city of Paris) is so beautifully done that it is mesmerising. Audrey Tautou is completely enchanting as Amelie and the plot which at first may seem a little perplexing is in fact deceptively simple. It is a story of people and relationships, of good times and bad times, of precious little moments all strung together by what appears to be coincidences but are in reality, miraculous little happenings which, when pulled together, gives us… well… Life of course, la vie en rose, la dolce vita.

It’s art for fate’s sake

Before starting on this post I would like to say a quick word of thanks to the people who have kindly sent me email. Especially those who have shared their insights or questioned my ideas and my photographic work. It is always appreciated.

~§~

Not too long ago I received an email from a reader who questioned my choice of subjects in my photographs relative to my philosophical outlook of life which she assumed to be either Buddhist or Taoist. She wanted to know how I saw a connection between my usual images of urban grunge and decay and the ethereal beauty of Taoist or Zen teachings. Her expectations envisaged images of pebbles and meandering brooks, Japanese gardens and orderly patterns, of proverbial frogs jumping into ponds.

Firstly I need to point out that I am neither Buddhist or Taoist. I find it best to hold no beliefs or concepts which tends to be how I perceive all philosophies and religions. It is true that I favor quotes from Zen and Taoist scriptures but only because they are the least distorted interpretations of pointers that have been given by teachers throughout the ages. At least as far as I can tell. These teachings, or pointers, are common to many religions but in some, such as Christianity and Islam, the interpretations of the parables/pointers seems to be done in such a way as to benefit the few in order that they may control the many. Again this is just my view on the matter. In any case, as I’ve already mentioned, I prefer not to hold onto concepts and see no benefits in being dogmatic about unprovable principles. Beliefs, after all, are just thoughts. Totally intangible.

Now having said this there is no denying that I still philosophise about life and such as the posts in this blog will testify. But I do so with the understanding that it is all quite useless and conceptual and that it is best not to put a label on it (even though the need to communicate does require the use of such labels). I tend to philosophise purely for entertainment value. I do not mean to be flippant but I have no other way of expressing it.

So how do my photographs relate to my philosophising? Well in short, they don’t. At least not in any mystical or esoteric way. The photographs have little to do with anything. In fact I have never as yet printed one and only began keeping them when other people started to express interest in them. This is not to say that I don’t enjoy my images. Quite the contrary. I get a lot of pleasure and joy from my images. There’s excitement when I finish processing an image and blow it up to the full size of my 17″ screen. I love immersing myself in them and being subtly aware of the myriad thoughts they evoke, the good, the bad and the ugly. And of course I get a kick when others appreciate them and bring to them their own feelings and interpretations. That, in part, is what art is about, the sharing of joy and fun, feelings and emotions, memories and imaginings. That’s how I see it though it surprises me how many artists don’t see it this way. Perhaps that is a sign that I am simply not an artist, merely an hobbyist. In any case that is a whole other topic.

Getting back to the topic at hand, while I thoroughly enjoy my images I am not attached to them and from a philosophical point of view they are almost illusory in nature. It’s not the image that is important to me or the subject, it is the imaging, the process of making the photograph and the most important part to that process is the initial seeing. The subject matter is not part of the process, it is, for all intensive purposes, inconsequential. The subject is illusory while the seeing is real. In other words it is unimportant whether the subject is a grungy alleyway or cherry blossoms in full bloom. What is all important is the clear seeing and the detached acceptance of what is seen. There is a strength, a power, an awareness that comes at that moment of seeing and accepting. I do not shoot the alleyway because I choose to, I shoot it because it is inevitable that I do. At the moment of seeing there is a sense that everything this present moment has to offer is a fated consequence of the past. Life has unfolded itself to this very moment just as it is, despite any apparent desires on my part for it to be otherwise. So if there is to be a connection between my photography and my philosophising than it is between seeing and amor fati, the love of one’s fate. Fate is life and life is truth and art connects it all together in a boundless embrace of beauty and clarity.

There is a possibility at this point that I will be labeled a fatalist or a determinist. That is fine, I don’t mind but those labels may carry with them an implication of capitulation, of not having control. There may even be an assumption that I am forced to like all that happens, all that I see but that is not what amor fati points to. It points to not fighting against what is, choosing instead, to accept it, as it is. Paradoxically, as so often happens in life, out of this simple acceptance comes freedom and independence. And thus the very limitations that fate appears to beset on me are transmuted into beauty and creativity.

So in photographic terms, my success in creating a photograph that I will like, comes from accepting fully that which is presented to me. When I allow the mind to relax its grip on the world perceived, through the simple act of acceptance, creative energy is released and transformed into… well… art, or in my case, a photograph. A photograph that brings me bliss.

Do we live life or does life live us?

Could the violin maker have been a boiler maker? Could he have made a choice prior to becoming a violin maker and become something else? Common sense tells us that yes he chose to be a violin maker but he could easily have chosen to be something else. But is that truly the case? Afer all we can’t prove, or disprove, free-will. Or destiny for that matter. Both are concepts and are at the root of the question: do we live life or does life live us?

It’s a question without an answer but one that makes for entertaining conversation. Entertainment is what life is for that matter, good or bad, it’s all entertainment. The world’s a stage and we’re all players as William Shakespeare once said. But back to the question. Do we live our lives, do we make the decisions, make the plans, follow our dreams or does life simply manifests as us and we merely think we’re in control. Of course we would need to know what life is or how it’s defined but that too is a question without answer.

Let’s not worry about defining “life” for now. I’m more interested in the possibility that I am merely attached to the belief that I am in control and that I am not at the mercy of fate. But how do we calibrate our beliefs. I mean, I register all the things around me via my senses but how do I know that my senses are working correctly. I can’t step outside myself to calibrate my senses. I may well have a totally wrong perspective. And other people can’t be relied on, just look at the studies that have been done on the discrepancies between witnesses of a particular event.

So I must remain open to the possibility that life lives me and lets me believe I’m in control. Even science seems to point to this possibility. In any case it’s all concepts, mind stuff, nothing more than entertainment. The answer is somewhere in the silence between the thoughts that afflict us.