In this issue

My Artwork of the Week

What is it about sunset, I wonder, that so entrances us?

What is it about standing on a beach at the close of the day, as the sun slowly lowers below the horizon, and the sky's red fades to blue-black and then dark?

Is it the warm colours, the reds and blues and purples and the way they play the strings of our hearts?

Or is it more simple than that?

Perhaps the answer may lie in the fact that we have made it to the end of the day. But, deep down, we know that the number of days allotted to us is finite, a number that is usually never given to us until we finally realise that the sands on the top of the hourglass are now mainly in the lower part.

A beautiful sunset is usually a peaceful and joyous thing, a serene space between day and night, where the earth holds her breath and, for a short time, we can be at peace and rest, in tune with all that is.

Frontispiece

Atamaarie e te whaanau:

good morning everybody.

It has been some weeks since I last published a newsletter, and there are reasons for that.

I owe you an explanation.

Firstly my apologies for not letting you know, and secondly, my gratitude to those of you who reached out to see if I was okay. Your concern is/was deeply appreciated.

Perhaps ten days ago, I had a conversation with a fellow photographer at roughly the same stage in his career as me.

"I hear you've given up your professional photography and got a day job," I asked him.

"Yes, it's true," he replied. "It's time for me to get a job that brings in the money. Of course, I'm not thrilled about it, but the reality is it's simply too hard, and I can't do it anymore. I'm unsure how and where the new job will go (his new job has nothing to do with photography), but I can see potential in it, and I feel it's time for a change."

Many of us are going through something similar at the moment, changing direction, finding new paths and reimagining our journey for the future. For many of us, it is time to consider our life purpose and make any necessary changes.

In the time that I've been off-line, I've made a significant journey to the opposite end of the country, carrying a taonga in the form of a karakia to connect two wahi tapu (sacred places). I haven't been asked to make a journey like that for quite some time. And yet everything fell into place to ensure it would happen.

It wasn't easy. Perhaps a week before I left, I injured my back, and the further north I travelled, the worse it became; and by the time I reached my destination, I was in agony and on painkillers. Finally, however, I pushed forward into the headwinds of my pain because it was an important kaupapa and one I knew I had to complete. Curiously, my back came right within a day or two of completing the task.

As some of you will know, I crashed my car a couple of months ago. Eventually, the insurance company wrote it off because the cost of repairs was greater than the value of the vehicle itself, even though it drove perfectly well and safely.

And I knew I had to get a new car because you can't live in Te Anau without one. There is no public transport here and no way of getting to town (Queenstown, Invercargill) since the buses haven't run since COVID.

I spent a lot of time on TradeMe, trying to find a suitable replacement, and in the end, I found something very suitable in Christchurch. So I made a plan and crossed my fingers—another faith journey.

When it came down to the wire, I was still short of money for the car (not an expensive one, I might add-and it was on special), and, determined to avoid the debt trap of finance, I cashed up the only asset I had.

I sold all my camera equipment.

Somehow I feel it was the right decision.

Over the last week, I've experienced a considerable amount of grief at letting go of the journey of forty years to become one of photography's greats. The last fifteen years, in particular, have been a constant challenge, a rollercoaster of ups and downs as I've pushed myself further and further, gritting my teeth and trying to do better work than I've ever done. As often as not, before I go out with my camera, I say a small prayer, asking IO that I may make a better picture than I have ever done before.

And yet I no longer have anything to prove. So each day, when I walk past my bookcase and see my copy of A Few of the Legends, I smile and, in the words of Edmund Hilary, say to myself, "I knocked the bugger off".

And yet it is eerie. I look at the land and the mountains, seeing works I could make, planning the shot and calculating the best way of doing so. Then I remember that I don't have a camera to achieve that. I suspect that this grief process will take a little time to work through. You don't say goodbye to the journey of forty years with a simple realisation, a shrug of the shoulders and a sigh.

Yet there is a sense of a load lightened, of endings and beginnings.

As some of you know, I've walked along two railway tracks for some time.

On the one side has been my journey as an artist/photographer, fulfilling and rich in and of itself. My journey in this world has been blessed and fulfilling.

Will I stop making art?

I doubt that I can. As the artist Damien Hirst puts it:

Art isn't something we do; it's something we are.

Yet there is another path to follow, a journey waiting for me, which will require all of me and what I have to offer. One which requires me to close doors so that others may open.

And now, I feel truly ready for that journey. If a little frightened and unsure that I have what it takes to follow it.

However, I am grateful to those around me who support me and guide me on a journey I was always meant to follow.

As the Chinese philosopher Lao Tzu puts it:

Waiata mo te Ata

When I was writing my book Raahui in 2020, I wrote this karakia as a way of closing the narrative. In the book, it is only in te reo Maaori. So it seems fitting to include it here. I have included an English approximation below.

Teenei au ka mihi ki te

Ao Kaakaariki

Ao Kahurangi

Ao Whero

Ao Koowhai

Ao Maa

Ao Pango

Ao Aniwaniwa

Ao Kohatu

Ao Rakau

Ao Wai

Ao Haa

Ko te iti, ko te nui

ki te Ao kei runga, kei raro, kei mua, kei muri, kei waenganui e

Ki te Ao kei te tama waahine,kei te tama taane, kei te tai tokerau, kei te tai tonga

He mihi mutunga kore

Tihei mauri ora.

I sing a song of praise to

the green realm

the blue realm

the red realm

the yellow realm

the white realm

the black realm

the rainbow realm

the realm of stone

te realm of plants

the realm of water

the realm of air

From the small to the great

to the realm above, beneath, in front, behind, in the centre

to the west, the east, the north, the south

a song of praise to the Infinite.

Behold the wonder of life.

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

Revealed: why Van Gogh’s ‘empty chair’ paintings were never shown together

Shortly before Vincent van Gogh cut off his left ear and had a breakdown after quarrelling with his fellow artist, Paul Gauguin, in the French city of Arles in 1888, he created a pair of extraordinary paintings.

Study suggests a beer a day can increase diversity of gut bacteria — newatlas.com

The state of our gut microbiome continues to be linked to a range of health outcomes, with the diversity of these microbial populations believed to play an important role in our vulnerability to disease.

Recipe: Mexican chilli bean soup with tortilla chips — www.stuff.co.nz

Heat the oil in a large pot. Add the onion and carrots, and cook for 5 minutes to soften. Add the cumin and cook for 1 minute. Add the tomatoes, beans, green chilli and water. Bring to the boil, then simmer for 10 minutes.

Is the battery grip dead? By the looks of photographers' setups I think so.... — www.digitalcameraworld.com

After recently getting engaged to my partner of 5 years we have now begun the wedding fair exploring stage, and of course high on the list is a photographer to shoot the wedding.

Reimagining art history: 7 photo projects inspired by paintings — flipboard.com

Imitation may be the sincerest form of flattery, but it can often go so wrong. Painter, photographer, and “assemblist” Richard Tuschman, set his …

Iridescent Glass Worms, Fruiting Slime Molds, and a Glowing Eel Larvae Top Close-Up Photography Contest — www.thisiscolossal.com

Captured around the globe, the winning shots in the 2020 Close-Up Photographer Of The Year glimpse some of nature’s most fascinating details, from the organs inside a shimmering glass worm to slime molds bursting with fruit. Dr.

The ARTnews Guide to Abstract Expressionism — www.artnews.com

By the time the Second World War ended, in 1945, some 70–85 million people had died, and cities across Europe and Asia were left in ruins. Economies were devastated in countries around the globe, with one huge exception: the United States.

Why your favourite colour is probably blue — www.bbc.com

In 1993, crayon-maker Crayola conducted an unscientific, but intriguing poll: it asked US children to name their favourite crayon colour. Most chose a fairly standard blue, but three other blue shades also made the top 10 list. Seven years later, the firm repeated its experiment.

End Papers

Quo Vadis?

This is the thirty-eighth issue of Breathing Light, something I began last September. I'm currently pondering its future.

Yesterday I watched a YouTube video by a photography "guru" whom I have followed for the last year or two. In the video, he shared that he is taking a break from publishing content for the next little while. He talked about how the constant grind had taken its toll on him, planning, creating and publishing week after week.

I get that because, in a way, it has happened to me. With my addiction to technical perfection and (perhaps unhealthy) compulsion to produce something truly beautiful, this newsletter has grown from something that used to take me a few hours to become a mission of two days or so.

I am deeply grateful to all of you for your help and support as I have made my way along the road, and I am keen to honour your arohaa.

If you have the time, I would love to hear from you, and I would really appreciate your help: email, Personal Message, and even a phone call (I love phone calls).

Do I continue?

How often should I publish?

What content do you like or want to see more (or less)?

What do you like about it (if anything)?

What irritates you?

For a long time, I've been deeply in love with the natural world, with Papatuuaanuku, my mother the earth. So I thank my father for gifting me that insight and knowledge.

And it has always been a mantra for me to use my gifts with words and pictures to try and make the world a better place by bringing joy to people wherever I can.

As I said, I would love to hear from you.

I'm hopeful of getting some camera equipment soon since it feels peculiar to look at the wonder and beauty in the world and have only a phone to make its likeness (I told you I was a technical perfectionist).

And I'm about to rebuild my website from the ground up. This time I'm going to get over myself and an overblown estimate of my abilities and hire a professional to do it for me.

Watch this space.

Finally, several of you have contacted me saying you haven't received a Breathing Light since issue #. So my first suggestion is to check your spam box and then let me know.

Either way, there's a lot of material for you to go back and peruse should you wish to do so.

Just go here.

Either way, wherever you are on your life journey, happy where you are, making small incremental changes, or tearing up the script, throwing out the baby with the bathwater and starting afresh, may the Light of All that Is shine upon you and illuminate the path for you.

And next weekend is our national holiday for Matariki, the Maaori New Year, when Taramainuku, captain of Te Waka Huruhurumanu, comes to gather up the souls of those who have crossed in the last year in his kupenga (net) of light. It is a time to pause, reflect and honour those who have passed.

Actually, Matariki (the Pleiades) rises this Monday.

Ka mihi arohaa nunui ki a koutou

Much love to you all