In this Issue

1. Taku Mahi Toi o Te wiki-My Image of the Week

2. Korero Timatanga-Frontispiece

3. Photographer's Corner-Of Journeys Completed and Forks in The Road

4. Waiata mou te Ata-Poem for the day

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

6. Koorero Whakamutunga-Endpapers

My Image of the Week

Taku Mahi Toi O te Wiki

If you stay long enough in photography (or whatever is your creative thing), sooner or later, you'll learn a thing or two which you will never find written down in books or freely distributed on YouTube.

You learn to use your rearview mirror when you're driving, looking for something to photograph, that sometimes the best image is behind you, waving for your attention rather than in the foreground of your determination.

You also learn that sometimes the roughest days are the best times to be out there. Anyone who has spent time at Piopiotahi/Milford Sound will know that the wildest weather, when a storm is coming in off the Tasman Sea, is when you should pack up your equipment and lunch and set forth.

You also learn that you are not alone on your journey. In the shadows beside you walk wise ones, the masters who have trodden the path before you. So if you can overcome your determination to forge your way alone, sometimes there are pre-trodden paths through the forest which will guide you.

It was the wettest of days when I got to Milford Sound. I had booked a cruise with my favourite company, a small boat which took a maximum of forty people. That day there weren't very many tourists, I suspect because their longing for a fine sunny day in Milford (you have a one in four chance of one of those!) had made them decide not to come. More fool them.

When I raised an eyebrow at the weather, Kahurangi, the captain, informed me that the waterfalls would be "going off". And he was correct.

Once we rounded the corner into the narrowest part of the fjord, the wind was furiously throwing itself at the mountainsides, drenching them with rain and creating waterfalls where usually, there were none. Instead, in its spiteful, tantrum-filled mood, it allowed the water to flow over the cliff edges, then picked them up and threw it back up again. In places, the waterfalls were flowing uphill.

With a camera in one hand and a towel in the other, I ducked in and out of shelter, photographing the wonder around me. I felt truly, joyously alive, at once terrified and at the same time excited by the incredible energy of the weather. It was a great day to be alive.
When we returned to the harbour two hours later, I knew I had something to show for the day.
When I sat down to work on this image, I remembered a conversation with a Chinese artist who explained how waterfalls are significant metaphors for the Way in which the Creator showers his wisdom upon the land and all the creatures that dwell in and upon it.
Falling water is, in many ways, the breath of life, for life cannot exist without water.
Water is its own Way.
I have printed this work for two people who love it. So I will print it twice more, sign, date and number each, then close the edition.

I will never print it again.

Koorereo Timatanga

Frontispiece

Atamaarie e te whaanau:

Good morning everybody.
My apologies for not putting out Breathing Light last weekend. I spent three wonderful days with a fellow photographer, travelling in my beloved Fiordland and making new work.

However, here we are again.

Issue #60, which is something of a milestone. I've been crafting it for over 18 months and am proud of having got this far. I suppose the next marker will be issue #100, and then I will have to consider a centennial issue. I should point out here that an extensive back catalogue is available for you to look at anytime.

You can check it out here.

I have been thinking about the future of Breathing Light. This came about because Beehiiv opened up one of their premium, paid tiers, probably encouraging me to go on board and sign up for a paid subscription (of course!). This raises the question of whether I should "go premium” and paywall it. Would that be a good thing? If I moved to a paid tier, I would have access to many more tools and analytics and could probably target what I write better for you.

For the first time, I can see that the bulk of you are in either New Zealand or the North American continent. That is helpful. I also have access to questionnaires, surveys and polls to understand better what you enjoy. And clearly, I would like to do more of that.

I've also been contemplating recording five-minute videos, where I take you through my creative process, from previsualisation to final realisation. I could put these on YouTube, but I don't feel like giving them away. So I will keep the channel private and available to subscribers.
I'm asking myself, and indeed you, how many of you would be willing to pay to access the premium content, and, if so, how much? Please let me know.

Moreover, I have 40 years of knowledge and experience, and along the Way, I've learned things I've never seen written down. I want to share those with those of you who are photographers and keen to know.

I would love it if you could take the time to drop me a line and let me know.


Finally, I have some great news I want to share with you. I will plug that into Photographer's Corner because that's where I think it belongs.

Photographer's Corner

A Few of the Legends

He koorero. A story about a journey of 40 years.

After finishing my degree at university, majoring in foreign languages and literature, I guess I fell into my thirty-year career as a teacher, instructing secondary students between the ages of 12 and 18. I don't think it was something I intended to do; it just happened. I think that often happens for people, and, dare I say it; it seems to be particularly prevalent amongst young men, who often take time to figure out what they want to do with their lives.
It was a busy first ten years, learning to master the art and craft of being a teacher. I always saw what I did as having 30 classes of one rather than one class of 30. Every person who came into my classroom was a precious soul for whom I was responsible. I felt morally bound to do the best I could for every one of them.
And yet, and yet…

Somehow I felt that I hadn't found my life purpose. Teaching was rewarding and fulfilling; somehow, I wanted to make more of my life.
Then, at the age of 28, the Light went on.
One night I walked out onto the lawn under a glowing full moon and decided that what I wanted to do was to become one of the world's most outstanding photographers.
Quixotic, I know, but I was determined.
I learned wherever I could, and since very few classes were available, I taught myself. I went to any courses I could and finally found my mentor of 20 years, Richard Poole, one of the Grand Old Men of New Zealand photography.
The years passed. I developed curricula for New Zealand secondary and tertiary providers.
Then, in 1990, after taking a wild leap of self-belief and holding my first exhibition in a public gallery in Christchurch, I was invited to exhibit that body of work in Dunedin. Matheson Beaumont, another of the Grand Old Men, introduced me to an Australian photographer, Peter Adams. “I think you two have something to talk about," he smiled and walked away.
Peter explained that he was on an odyssey to photograph the world's most outstanding photographers, and would I be willing to sit for him and have to make my portrait for potential inclusion in his book?
I blinked. What? Me?
Of course, I replied.
About a week later, he called and photographed me in my classroom.
And then I heard nothing more, although I occasionally wondered what had happened to the project.
Fast forward to 2019, and I received an email from him.
“I've photographed some 500 of the world's greatest photographers,” and he rattled off names like Annie Liebowitz, Lord Snowden and Arnold Newman, world-famous photographers whom I'd studied and used as exemplars for my students.
“I've edited them down to the top 280, and you are in the book.”
I blinked.
Then he told me what he needed from me, and I happily emailed it to him.
More time passed.
Then he came back to me.
“I've been following your work for quite some time, and it keeps shifting. When I think I have you figured out, you move the goalposts and produce new work I haven't seen before. But, unfortunately, the picture you originally supplied me doesn't seem to mesh with where you are now. What image would you like me to put in the book?”
I thought about it for a week and sent him my image of Disappearing Falls at Piopiotahi, Milford Sound in Fiordland. At the time, I felt it was my seminal, definitive image.
Again, I let go and carried on with my life.
Early last year, the book finally came out.
A Few of the Legends is a weighty tome in its own slipcase, weighing nearly 5 kg. Inside it are many of the great names of world photography.
280 of them.
And you'll find me on page 84.
My copy sits on my bookshelf, and whenever I look at it, it reminds me of a forty-year journey that began one night under a full moon.
I think we Kiwis are taught to hide our Light under a bushel. That's the Kiwi way.
However, other cultures don't see it that Way.
Perhaps we must learn to place our Light on top of the bushel.

I have to say that this is a very significant body of work. It is one man's life's work. I know Peter has plenty of copies left to sell, and he would love you to own your own copy. But, unfortunately, it will never be reprinted, and if you love photography as a medium and an art form, you owe it to yourself to buy a copy.
Which you will never lend to anybody.
As a work, it's simply that precious.
A taonga.
One photography book to rule them all.

But then, I would say that wouldn't I?

Waiata Mou Te Ata-Poem For the Day

Green Autumnfall Song

Green Autumnfall Song

Soft winter’s first whispers

are picking the drifting, dreaming Light apart,

inserting thin threads of blue and cold

between the warm shoulderblades of autumn,

padding out the sighing grass

and

pushing damp, oozing moss

up between the greening tines of summer’s passing,

to squish and squelch

and cushion-wrap

bare feet thirsting for connection.

In a corner of the park,

a hesitant teenage rimu

wearing a waterfall korowai of green,

is finding its feet (for now).

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

EndPapers

Koorero Whakamutunga

Of Workshops and Photo Tours

It's been a while since I did a workshop. Those of you who have been to my workshops will remember that my focus was on helping you to find your own voice rather than photograph the Way I do. Anyway, there is no way you can copy what I do because you're not me (be glad of that). So, I'm currently exploring doing 5-6 day workshops similar to what I did in Wedderburn.

I would love to hear from those of you interested in taking part.

It's also been some time since I organised a small-group tour. In my time travelling around the country, and there are very few places I haven't been, I've seen some Off-the-beaten-track corners, which are truly magical. So if you are contemplating coming out to this country and you like a bespoke tour, please drop me a line and let's begin talking.

Comments

I have long wanted to make this newsletter more inclusive, to create an opportunity for each of you to comment or say something rather than going to the trouble of sending me a personal email.

Well, now you can. At least, I think you can.

Beehiiv has (finally) created the option of having a comment section in the newsletter. I've enabled it, so you should be able to access it and share your thoughts. You'll find it at the bottom of this newsletter (I hope). I'd love you to try it out and send something back in my direction. If it doesn't work, do let me know.

As always, walk gently upon our Mother and be kind to each other.
He mihi arohaa nunui ki a koutou katoa

Much love to you all,

Tony.