In this issue

1. My Artwork of the Week

2. Frontispiece

3. Photographer's corner-on learning from the Past

4. Waiata mou te Ata-Moonsilk Stonesong

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

6. Endpapers

My Artwork of the Week

Sometimes a tiny subject can suggest a huge story.

As I trawl through my picture archives and gather and catalogue works from sixteen years ago when I "turned digital", I encounter pictures that have been gathering dust, waiting patiently for the time to re-emerge into the light. And, when I do meet them again, like old friends, they are either sticking to the same story or have been on a journey of their own and have something new to share. Friends are like that.

My friend Chris Morton invited me to spend a few days with him at their holiday home on Aotea-Kaitoke (Great Barrier Island). He had a new project in mind, to make a book of pictures and words about the island. Would I come with him and give him help?

Of course.

At the time, there was only one café, intriguingly named Claris Texas (the only town on the island is called Claris!), and we spent time discussing what he wanted to achieve.

Then we went walkabout.

One afternoon, as the sun was sliding out of sight, we were walking up a beach on the island's east side, photographing this and that, simply responding to what was before us. He was still feeling his way into the project, coming to it from what he knew and looking for the topic of conversation he and the island would have in the coming years.

As I wandered up the beach, I saw a piece of driftwood, perhaps 30 cm long, half-buried in the black sand. I stopped and pondered it, and since it was telling me something, I photographed it. After that, I never really thought much more about its significance.

Until now. Fifteen years later.

And, somewhere down the years, while it was sitting on a hard drive, the piece of driftwood had been gathering up a story, building an Imagination for me to explore.

I imagined a story explaining how it had got there, what had gone before, what would follow and, most importantly, its significance.

It was plywood. Where had the plywood come from? Was that the discard from a building site? Had it fallen off a passing container ship? Perhaps it was all that remained of somebody's pride and joy, a yacht that had run aground? Or had it been travelling the ocean currents from South America?

I would never know. And, actually, the answer didn't matter.

When I lived in Christchurch, I often went down to new Brighton to photograph people and their interaction with the beach. It fascinated me how locals would drive to the car park beside the ocean and sit there for hours, not talking and just staring out to sea. Why on earth would they do that, I wondered?

Then I asked a friend.

"Oh, that is easy. The ocean is the highway to everywhere," he replied.

Perhaps the ocean is also the highway from everywhere.

Frontispiece

Atamaarie e te whaanau:

good morning everybody.

Welcome to Breathing Light issue #47.

I never cease to be amazed (at myself), when another issue comes together. I am unsure what each week's newsletter will bring and what I will be directed to talk about. Often the inspiration comes from you, through questions and comments, or even a chance conversation. Sometimes the quotes direct the traffic; at other times, it is the pictures.

This week's paanui seems to want to talk about the importance of small things in our lives and how we can use the lessons of the past (not necessarily hours) to make informed choices in our own lives.

If there is a theme to this week's missive to you (I've been dying to use the word missive for ages!), it is probably about maintaining a sense of wonder, of being alive to the small things to come as gifts to us each day: the grass beneath our naked feet, a passing cloud, that oat milk latte made with love by a barista passionate about their job, or a smile from a stranger.

I hope you enjoy it.

Photographer's corner-on learning from the Past

There's a lot to be said for looking back into the history of our medium, the changes that have occurred as the technology has marched forward, and doing a little research so we can be better informed.

In photography's early days, the technology was limited and dubious at best. For the first time in humankind's history, people were able to make an accurate likeness of both the world around them and each other. The sense of wonder and what was possible brought photography into being; it was portraiture which drove the technological advances that have led us to today. And the difference between going down to your neighbourhood studio with your family to have your likeness made, either as a daguerreotype or small print and lining up your tribe for a selfie with an iPhone is… well, nothing. Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose. The more things change, the more they remain the same.

In 2007 (I think I've written about this before), I spent time in Sitka, Alaska, on a teaching gig. It didn't take long to realise that it was a monochrome landscape, and I saw and photographed it in black and white once I had that understanding.

It's been fifteen years since I saw the file of the salmonberry in the picture above. I made it at a time when I had only recently switched from chemical-based photography to using a digital camera. Before that, I had spent fifteen years attempting to master silver-based chemical photography. I spent long hours in a darkroom, studying and mixing my chemistry to achieve the things I wanted to say better. Then, when my body developed an anaphylactic reaction to the chemicals (it can happen), I shut my darkroom door, turned off the lights and power, and moved into the digital world. However, all those years of knowledge never left me; they have sat in a dusky corner of my mind.

Until a fortnight ago.

When I came to look at the file, and begin to approach it, what came to me was a memory of making platinum prints and using toners to shift the print colours. Most darkroom printing is done on emulsions made from either silver chloride or silver bromide (or both). However, alongside that were prints made using platinum, which yields along the tonal scale in a rather beautiful warmth. I have an app which gives me a platinum "look". And I headed in that direction. Somehow, by choosing that path, I felt I was honouring the early pioneers of the medium, in particular the late Ansel Adams, who had given me the inspiration to bend over and photograph a humble salmonberry growing at the roadside. Then I applied an electronic gold toner (I once used that for real) to shift the highlights call and the shadows warm.

Incidentally, speaking of toners, I hear photographers talk all the time about going for the "sepia look". But unfortunately, I've yet to meet one who knows the back story and can speak informatively about sepia.

Silver emulsions really didn't hit the mainstream until the 1860s and 70s. And they were very unstable. They were liable to fade as the emulsions aged. So, to encourage longevity, it was customary to bathe them before final washing in a solution containing potassium aluminium sulphate (KAl(SO4).12H2O), which tipped the tones towards a rich brown. You can read more here.

And, of course, it worked. So, somewhere in your house, you probably have prints which are a century old, still as good as the day they were made.

So those beautiful sepia prints came about for technological rather than aesthetic reasons. So, the next person who talks about "how cool is sepia" will be made to sit down while I bore the pants off them with the chemistry and history lesson!

And one final thought. Photography's beginnings were black-and-white, yet it is a colourful world. We only ever see the world in black and white when the light is very low when we use the rods in our eyes which can only see tonally. Once the light gets above a certain level, the rods have a rest, and the cones kick in. We have three types of cones; red, green and blue (RGB). So now you know why our digital media are RGB.

So here is the thing.

If the early pioneers of photography had been able to produce colour images straight away, would we ever have had black and white photography?

I wonder.

Waiata mou te Ata-Moonsilk Stonesong

Moonsilk Stonesong

On a translucent drumskin parchment night

stretched taut by a fineweave of moonsilk light

and tied in the corners by punctuations of  staccato stars

I followed a jewel-eyed magicmoth

With  thinfeather glowing papyrus wings

inscribed with the secrets of magic from other times

 and the spellspoken paths of the night.

She led me to the edge of the land,

to a place where the slowsighing solitary sea

rubbed itself against the warmth of a beach

which grumbled softly to itself

 as it turned over the slippery burnished stones in its bed.

Then the Mountain reached down one timecrusted arm

And lifted a single singular glowing pebble,

 Held it for a moment up to the light and said:

Here.

Behold the end of my days.

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

The Museum Of Bad Art is actually full of awesome art — boingboing.net

Popkin

Ai Weiwei Unveils Thought-Provoking Cage Installation Commenting on Refugees in Europe — mymodernmet.com

World-renowned Chinese artist and activist Ai Weiwei is a giant amongst his peers for creating thought-provoking work that defies the barriers of language. His vast portfolio of work forces viewers to contemplate serious issues around the world.

Egg and Potato Hash — eggs.org.nz

A super tasty and super easy way to start the day. Try this recipe with chorizo or bacon or leave out for a filling vegetarian recipe option.

The Mirror of Enigmas: Chance, the Universe, and the Fragile Loveliness of Knowing Who We Are — www.themarginalian.org

It takes a great sobriety of spirit to know your own depths — and your limits. It takes a special grandeur of spirit to know the limits of your self-knowledge.

Selecting the Proper Brick Wall for Photographic Tests — www.lensrentals.com

Many amateurs test their lenses by taking pictures of the nearest brick wall without logically thinking about what information that particular wall provides. Done properly, a brick wall test can provide a superb evaluation of your lens.

How to check how decentered your lens is — phillipreeve.net

You may have already heard of sample variation or decentered lenses. In this article we will show you how to easily test your lenses for proper centering. If you know how it works it will take you less than 5 minutes per lens!

At the World Taxidermy and Fish Carving Competition — www.bloomberg.com

Every two years, the world’s taxidermists gather to show off their best work. Every other year since 1983, taxidermists from all over the world gather for the World Taxidermy and Fish Carving Championships.

Caesar Salad — eggs.org.nz

With shards of parmesan, crispy bacon, creamy dressing and perfectly cooked poached egg, Nici Wickes' Caesar Salad recipe is a winner!

Water, Water, Every Where — And Now Scientists Know Where It Came From

Water on Earth is omnipresent and essential for life as we know it, and yet scientists remain a bit baffled about where all of this water came from: Was it present when the planet formed, or did the planet form dry and only later get its water from impacts with water-rich objects such as comets?

End Papers

If you look above at the last of the Sunday Morning Links, you will see one pointing you at a time-lapse video made from pictures shot from the ISS space station, showing the aurora borealis of the last few days shot from above. It is an extraordinary video I think I will save for future meditation.

I shared it around, including one of my friends, who immediately came back to me with the following comment:

BS!

I felt sad. Have we become so untrusting and hypersensitive to "alternative facts" that we have lost our sense of wonder at all the fantastic things happening around us? Yet, each day we have the opportunity to marvel at what is laid before us.

I've commented on my little ritual of giving the crusts from my bread to the sparrows and finches. I recently bought a bag of birdseed to supplement what I feed them.

I may have created a rod for my own back.

On Friday afternoon, after slaving over a hot computer, I went out to the lounge for a break. Because it was a nice day, I had left the front door open.

There, on the carpet inside the door, was one of the finches, pacing impatiently backwards and forwards. As I emerged, it looked up and fixed me with a very dark bird look.

I got the message.

Bread and seed.

Now.

Equilibrium was swiftly restored.

Please don't tell me birds are stupid—especially the tui, the bully boys of the neighbourhood.

Let us remind ourselves that we are one species among many, one knot in an intricate net of existence.

As always, I wish you health, courage, understanding and peace.