In this issue

1. My image of the week

2. Frontispiece

3. The best place to be is where you are. And where you are.

4. Seeing like a Moth

5. Fevered Mind Links

6. Endpapers

My image of the week

-Tibetan teaching

Frontispiece

Introduction

Most weeks, when I am about to devote Saturday to the joy of creating and crafting this newsletter, I have no idea what I will write.

And I don't worry. I have learned to trust that the right thing, what is waiting to speak, will come into the room.

You see, something always comes along. Sometimes several somethings come running in the door, noisy children eager to be included.

Perhaps life is like that, or rather should be like that, particularly at the moment. Maybe we need to spend less time in our heads, stressing and winding up our cortisol levels. Perhaps we need to trust that we are being cared for and that everything is happening as it should.

This week is no different.

This week, two conversations several days apart have created the theme for this week, which seems to be trust and faith.

Please continue, Dear Reader (my completely unnecessary Charles Dickens moment).

Formatting

The structure of this newsletter is still settling itself and finding its natural rhythm.

This week, I will put the stuff about me and what I am working on in the Backend section. I am excited about some of it and want to share it with you because, like Napoleon, I am advancing on multiple fronts (and no, I will not be invading Russia in the winter. That one is a proven fail).

For those of you wanting to know more, continue down past the links.

The best place to be is where you are. And where you are.

Last week I floated the idea (not mine!) of a Readers Corner, where people could reach out and pose a question for me to discuss. Your chance to take the helm in a way.

Well, this one turned up in my Messenger Inbox:

Whew! That one is a biggie.

Here goes.

There is no question that current circumstances present many rabbit holes begging us to jump into them. We are bombarded daily with an avalanche of opinions, informed and otherwise, and the MSM are not helping (#clickbait). If it isn't Covid, it is an impending financial meltdown, inflation, and the prospect of war between China and the United States. And I haven't even scratched the surface of the doom options available to us.

And let us not even talk about social media, which requires a strong stomach and enormous self-belief. If you think FarceBook is bad, don't even go near Twitter, where self-righteousness and moral superiority abound.

So can we do?

Make pictures. Or music. Or statues. Or mud pies. Whatever you love.

And make lots of them. Do it whenever you have spare time. Maybe do it when you don't have extra time.

You see, there's no substitute for the healing power of 100 photographs you made for yourself simply because you could. Ten thousand photographs work even better.

Because it's not a competition.

Let go of that need to impress some camera club judge who doesn't know what he's talking about.

Because it's not a competition.

And you're not in competition with yourself.

Remember why you got into photography? Before you acquired GAS (gear acquisition syndrome) and/or your ego needed to be fed by some spurious and dubious sense of achievement?

Remember the joy you felt when you first pressed the shutter, and perhaps to your amazement, the picture "came out." Remember the joy of that time when the camera captured how you see the world? It's still there.

Go back to the beginning. Go back to the joy of making pictures or music or crocheted multi-colour string vests (no, not that. Never that!)

Get out your chosen machine of choice, be it a camera or a Fender Stratocaster and go and do stuff with it. If you like photographing life in the street, do that. If your thing is to climb a mountain at three in the morning so you can stand looking down at a lake and make the Ultimate Instagram Cliche (warning! It's been done before! So many times!), then go and do that.

Why not?

Because, and here's the thing, it's all about Light. And it is about bringing Light into the world.

So maybe you won't ever be approached by the Museum of Metropolitan Art in New York to have a retrospective exhibition. Maybe Magnum won't come beating your door down. Do it for the passion and the joy of it. There are plenty of examples of people who just did it, and it was only after they moved to another existence that their massive body of work was found.

Think Vivien Maier. Be Vivien Maier. A lifetime of extraordinary photography that nobody knew about until she passed.

An amateur is someone who does it for the love of it. Of course, professionals do work with their clients' needs in mind. They must if they want to get paid. The French word amateur is not a derogatory term. It is a world full of light and joy, an act done for its own sake rather than the need for recognition or approval or awards or fame and glory, or any ego traps that take the purity and joy from the medium.

And here is another thought.

A friend called by to see me this week, and we enjoyed a lovely cup of tea outside under the cherry tree, which has now moved into sun umbrella mode. She's about to retire early next year, unless her boss p****s her off once too often, in which case she may be gone rather more quickly. She is looking forward to having time to photograph for herself. And her Self.

"You know, "she said," I don't know what it is about photography that I love so much. But I just can't wait to get out using my gear and exploring how I see the world. There's something about having a camera in my hands. It makes me feel at peace."

Well, of course, I would know. I've often looked with great fascination at why people photograph and why photography is the second most popular pastime in the world today.

I know that for me, those moments when my eyes are up to the viewfinder are precious. Psychically and spiritually. There's a lovely moment when you are so engaged with your subject and the space between you and it that you forget you're holding the camera and you become lost in the Moment. It's the kind of Zen state monks train for decades to be able to reach. And we can do it with an instrument. Without shaving our heads, wearing purple robes or turning vegan. We have entered the state known as the Void, a non-place where we just Are.

All we have to do is get off the couch and go out.

I taught with the great Canadian photographer Freeman Patterson for several years and absorbed many things he would teach his students. For example, he would often tell them that the best place to photograph is where you are.

You see, the great gift of photography is that it teaches us to see. Not just to dive deeper into what interests us but also to enable us to have a conversation with ourselves, one free of guilt or blame or fear or self-recrimination.

And surely, that is enough?

We don't have to prove ourselves to anyone, least of all ourselves.

We just have to go out and do it.

And, if we happen to make something that is a masterpiece for us, perhaps that is the icing on the cake.

Seeing like a Moth

While my current work revolves around the world writ small, where I am looking at my feet rather than up at all God's glory, I'm interested in pushing beyond the boundaries of the visible world.

Of course, I can do it with PhotoShop trickery, but I'm interested and how we see and what lies beyond those boundaries.

Last weekend I went walkabout with my camera, seeking to add material to my living plants project.

At the entrance to one of the holiday parks on the lakefront is a very happy and abundant protea. So, of course, I was going to photograph it with my Infrared-enabled camera.

When I came to edit the picture a day or two ago, I wasn't sure what I would get. Or, more importantly, where the work would want me to take it.

At times like these, I allow the image to find its way while I walk a fine line between intuition and imagination. I see the two of them as complementary rather than as at opposite ends of a spectrum.

When I came to work on this picture, the filter I had put in front of the lens pulled the basic tones well apart. And when I used the white balance picker, it gave me a picture composed of whites and soft mauves, which was interesting in itself.

My intuition told me that this picture felt right, so I followed it to see where it would lead.

The result (for now) has a certain luminous quality that resonates with me. As time goes by and I build up the body of work, it will find its place in the lexicon.

It reminded me of something a biologist told me years ago. He explained why most native New Zealand plants have white flowers. Apparently, before the arrival of humans, in particular the colonists, most pollination was done by moths at night. I'm not sure how rata and pohutukawa were pollinated.

And there was a certain synchronicity. I've been researching Lotus flowers for the last week or so, especially their spiritual and symbolic significance. My poor proteas got hijacked by the thinking process I was engaging in, albeit one that was relatively unconscious.

I can imagine once upon a time, a moonlit night filled with fragrant flowers, all reaching up to the light as moths flitted to and fro, picking up the pollen and moving it on.

Fevered Mind Links (to make your Sunday morning coffee go cold)

Georgia O’Keeffe on the Art of Seeing — www.brainpickings.org

In her stunning autobiographical reflection on the moment she understood what it means to be an artist, Virginia Woolf beheld the cosmos of connections in a single flower.

Who could dogs become without humans in their lives? — aeon.co

If you share your home with a dog, you may have found yourself rolling your eyes or clicking your tongue at your furry friend in response to some outrageously un-wild behaviour.

‘Moral molecules’ – a new theory of what goodness is made of — psyche.co

How many moral values are there? What are they? What does it take to be a morally good person? Over the centuries, philosophers, theologians and others have offered no shortage of answers to these questions. Plato argued that there were four virtues: temperance, courage, wisdom and justice.

The Best Flourless Chocolate Cake — getpocket.com

The oldest and most popular dessert at San Francisco's legendary Zuni Café, this gluten-free chocolate cake boasts a fine, tender crumb and bold chocolate flavor.

10 Amazing Facts about Henri Rousseau - Art History School — www.youtube.com

Henri Rousseau biography for beginners: This video covers 10 really amazing facts about the French naïve painter Henri Rousseau otherwise know as 'le douanie...

Make Meatballs Sing: A Loving Illustrated Celebration of the Radical Nun, Artist, Teacher, and Activist Corita Kent — www.themarginalian.org

When Matthew Burgess was an eleven-year-old already feeling other in the suburban Southern California of his childhood — long before he became a poet and a public school art teacher, before he made a bicontinental home in Brooklyn and Berlin with his husband — he was captivated by a tiny bright-

End Papers

Mentoring

A few weeks ago, a talented amateur photographer from Auckland approached me, asking me to mentor her and help her find direction in/with her work.

An honour indeed.

So we have begun working together. I love doing this because it gives me a chance to be of service and share what I know. I am excited to see where his shared journey will lead us.

And I have space for more of you if you are interested.

You see, I used to love doing my Winterlight Workshops in Wedderburn, but for obvious reasons, that is no longer possible. Anyway, working with you as a unique individual is a beautiful thing.

Even though I am tucked away in the back end of the waka (canoe), we can do this remotely, via Teams/Zoom.

A workshop of one. Maybe You?

Reach out if you would like me to help you.

YouTube Studio

I have known for some time that I would be working remotely and from home.

And in the month that I have been settling into my new whare (house), I have been busy setting up a remote teaching space. Call it my YouTube Studio, if you will. Designing the backdrop has been tremendous fun. It is nearly there.

When it is finished, I will record a little video for those who have asked to see it.

Back Printing Again

Earlier this year, a dear friend (SC!) gifted me her Canon Pro-1000 A2 printer to make prints again.

Last week a package arrived, containing a couple of boxes of Ilford's Washi paper. This beautiful paper is hand-made from mulberry and hemp, using traditional methods. Unfortunately, it is also (understandably) expensive, so there will be a lot of testing before I commit to using a full sheet!

I am very excited because I feel it will be a beautiful fit with my current explorations based on Japanese philosophical concepts. It feels somehow right.

Finally, if you have found this newsletter joyful and of value, please pass it on to someone who needs it/would enjoy it.

Ngaa mihi arohaa nunui ki a koe

Much love to you all.