Philip Morgan

I'm a photographer who pays life's expenses by working with technology. I'm trying to make photographs that express the resonant point where inner and outer landscapes meet and become indistinguishable.

FEATURED COMMENT: Kent Wiley wrote: "I'd like to hear more about this "point where the inner and outer landscapes meet."

Philip responds - To begin, a few precursors:

* "We do not see things as they are, but as we are." - Kant (?)
* "The way an observer interacts with the ensemble determines which aspect unfolds and which remains hidden." - Michael Talbot
* "No place is boring, if you've had a good night's sleep and have a pocket full of unexposed film." - Robert Adams

As I said, I try to make photographs that express the resonant point where inner and outer landscapes meet and become indistinguishable. What exactly I mean by this is difficult to express, as the statement is more an ideal than a track record. But at its bottom, this has something to do with the knowledge that nothing is unconnected. None of my doing or being is free from connection to anything I would like to define as Other.

A resonant point happens, for me, when an object or event thins the boundary of self and that imagined boundary becomes permeable. Words that have unusual gravity or meaning; objects that are unexpectedly familiar or attractive; strangers who are less than strange; scenes that have unexplained visual or emotional power--all of these are examples of points where my inner landscape (psyche, spirit, call it what you will) are sufficiently synchronous with respect to the outer mileu that I am translated, even temporarily, from isolated particle to partner, co-creator of meaning, and member.

This tree lives in its visual surroundings in the way that reminds me of what I am trying to express here. I'll quit talking while I'm (maybe) ahead...

FEATURED COMMENT # 2: Jim Jirka wrote: "Kudos to you if you understand what you just said. A big reason why I do not want to deal with the art world."

publisher's response -Jim, I see in your photographs, and by extension I see in you, much of what Philip is writing about.

To my eye and sensibility, your photographs strike a resonant point in me. Specifically, you seem drawn to photograph "scenes that have unexplained visual or emotional power" that, for the moment, certainly "translate " me "from isolated particle to partner" with the natural world. For me (and I'm certain for others), your photographs prick the unthought known, creating/reinforcing the feeling that nothing is unconnected.

Are you aware of this power that is part and parcel of your photographs?

Jim's response - Consiously ? No. Sub-consiously ? Who knows.

pub. - Jim, what do you see and feel when you view your photographs?

Jim's response -That is the problem. Can't put into words what I see and feel. To me they look neat. I do remember the "conditions" that they were taken in, with reference to the senses. During exposure I don't see much and feel even less. It is only later that the image develops. So I guess I must be working the scene, sub-consiously.

ku # 440 and a commentary for your consideration

As I slowly get sucked into the photo blog vortex - a place of incredibly high density from which I wonder if any light will escape - I alternately feel either intrigued/captivated or anesthetised/mind-boggled (mind-bloggled?). At times, when you really get down to the nub, it seems as if much is being written/expressed about very little, or, at least, about the same basic question. Lots of people - spewing and venting (I don't mean that in a negative sense) about photography/art - caught in a kind of endless What's-It-All-About, Alfie? loop, although on ocassions it seems more like a Monty-Python's-Meaning-of-Life loop.

Ultimately, as I (tentatively) see it, it appears that one question (with a variation) keeps coming to the fore (directly or indirectly) - what is a good photograph? and it's variant - are my photographs good photographs?

For me, the answer to the primary question was made simple (relatively) when, years ago, I stumbled across the phrase "to illustrate and illuminate". Ergo, for me, a good photograph must engage the visual sense and the realm of the intellect/emotion. When a photograph does that, it tickles me right on my photographic Gräfenberg spot (that's "G-spot" for all you insensitive guys out there) every time - and I use the word "tickle" because I derive great pleasure from a good photograph.

I experience even greater pleasure when a photograph makes me "work for it" by challenging my eye and my intellect. I'm not looking for a fleeting slam-bam-thank-you-mame thing. I do enjoy a photographic quickie now and then, but they seem to come and go in a flash. Nothing to write home about. Nothing to hang your hat on. Nothing to sink your teeth into.

As for the variant question, I know my photographs are good photographs because, first and foremost, they give me pleasure, in fact, great pleasure. And, fortunately enough, my photographs have been seen and appreciated by a wide enough audience for me to know that others think they are good photographs as well. Many have been pleasured by my photographs and part of my pleasure is knowing that I connect with others through my photography.

So there you have it (time to unseat all of those tentured photography professors mucking around in arcane academic theory). It's so simple - photography/art is all about pleasure and the more penetrating the pleasure, the better.

Admit it.

No matter how serious your photographic intentions (and mine are pretty serious), is anybody out there doing it for the displeasure of it all?

FEATURED COMMENT: Kent Wiley wrote: "...I like your logic: simple, direct, to the point. But does it blast us to escape velocity so we can pull away from the dreaded "black hole" of bloggery?..."

ku # 439

Weekend quickie - a little lighter than the last few posts.

ku # 438 and a book review (of sorts)

So I'm watching a program segment on the tube last night. It was a mini feature about a photographer acquaintance - Mark Bowie - who is fast becoming the new "dean" of Adirondack photography. This is primarily due to the fact that his work is featured regularly in Adirondack Life Magazine.

The segment revolved mainly around his new book, Adirondack Waters - Spirit of the Mountains. Now understand that I use some of Mark's photography in various Adirondack tourism pieces I produce so I do respect the man's ability with a camera...

BUT...

The thought that entered my head about half way throught the segment was how utterly differently he and I "see" the Adirondacks. So much so, that even though I recognized most of the places in his book, it was as if I didn't recognize them at all. He had, through the magic of assiduously applied sentimental photographic technique, reduced the place to a series of ubiqutous picture postcards (an aside - if memory serves correctly, Mark's grandfather was one of the Adirondack's first and very prolific producers of Adirondack postcards).

I can't completely express the foreign-ness, the disassociation, the very estrangement I felt viewing his photographs. I think in large part this feeling came from the fact that, in addition to the aforementioned sentimentality quotient, most of the photographs were not created on a "human" scale - the scale that you can reach out and touch, smell and embrace. They seemed to command too much of the standoffish reverential - nature on a pedestal - that is so prevalent in mainstream nature/landscape photography.

He illustrated, with the fastidious craftmanship, the look of the place, but, IMconsideredO, and contrary to the book's subtitle, he illuminated none of the spirit of the place. Or, at best, he captured only the narrow-ist slice of that spirit - that found in sweeping golden light iconistic landscapes (FYI, the photography that I use to draw the tourists in). Pleasant enough as far as it goes - it just doesn't go nearly far enough.

As I mentioned, I know Mark. He's a serious-minded, well-educated kind of guy. His love of and enthusiasm for the Adirondacks is readily apparent to anyone who spends more than a few minutes around him. His technical command of the photographic medium is of the highest order, but I am left wondering why he seems to continue to, as Brooks Jensen states, create "what he has been told is a good photograph" and why he doesn't "photograph what he sees."

Perhaps Mark is too caught up in the lure of what sells and garners the most attention, although I am certain that he photographs the Adirondacks in a manner that genuinely comes from his heart.

At least that's how I see it.

Photopop 7.0

Repulsively inviting or least that's how this looks to me (gravitas). It's one of those photographs that I just can't seem to stop looking at. Not sure why.

FEATURED COMMENT: Kent Wiley wrote: "...It's a moldy car wash. What's the big deal?"

publisher's response - Sleepy LaBeef, one of my favorite American musicians - dubbed "The Human Jukebox", has a song titled It ain't what you eat, it's the way how you chew it. That notion taken together with the adage You are what you eat seems to offer a starting point with which to answer your question.

If a photography diet consists mainly of easy-to-digest, stating-the-obvious WOW (WithOut Weight) photographs (and I'm not saying that yours is), then an observer is probably not stretching his/her mental/emotional facilities all that much. In culinary speak, his/her taste buds are not very sophisticated.

If, on the other hand, an observer regularly challenges - one might even say "treats" - enriches his/her diet with more complex offerings, an ability to identify and appreciate subtle tastes and textures most often develops. In photography speak, he/she learns a new way of "seeing" that he/she can use to view and create photographs. In culinary speak he/she has learned a new way of chewing.

In simpler jargon, I guess the answer to your question is, "it all depends on how you look at it".

Another Link

I discovered photo-musing through a heads-up from Jim Jirka and a subsequent steady flow of visitors to The Landscapist from that site. Thanks to Paul Butzi for the endorsement. photo-musing.blogspot.com is the product of Paul Butzi from the Pacific Northwest. He is also a contributor to Art and Perception.

The site has much of interest on offer. The site's subhead states all you need to know about Paul's perspective - "Musings on photography from an artist perspective and art from a photographer perspective" HIghly recommended reading.

ku # 437 and something rarely talked about in polite photographic circles

Yesterday was unseasonably warm. The day started very sunny but by late morning a deep grey shrouded the sky. Around 4pm there was a brief and tiny window in the western sky. As f8-and-be-there serendipity would have it, I was driving by this magnificent willow at that tiny-window moment.

As I was key-stroking yesterday's "thought", a then ill-formed notion popped into my head about the connection between a person's photography and their, for lack of a better psycho-babble term, personality. We all know, as the conventional wisdom goes, that Art is a reflection of its creator - "inner" vision and voice and all that.

This notion has been rattling and clanging around in my noodle for quite some time. Not that I doubt the validity of the notion, it's more that I have been trying to figure out what my photography says about me. I think I gave myself a clue in yesterday's "thought" - specifically the idea that "...it (the weather) is what it is and I take as it comes..." and "...I ,,, photograph what I see when I see it...".

Bingo.

There is a connection between the f8-and-be-there serendipity of ku # 437 (and almost all of my ku photography) and a take-it-as-it-comes "attitude" (preternatural, not adopted) that has pervaded my life. Big or small, I can't seem to plan anything. Just ask my f8-and-be-there serendipity wife who gets somewhat exasperated with the vacant stare she gets from me every time she asks something as simple as what I have planned for the weekend.

Even though f8-and-be-there serendipity could be considered one of the defining characteristics of me, my photography and my life, it is certainly, for purposes of this discussion about photography, not the only thing that forms my photographic vision/voice, but that's a topic for another time.

However, this excerpt from an interview with Paul Caponigro - FOCUS magazine, Dec. 2006 - is instructive:

"I was looking for a very core place, a place that functioned despite all the information and influence. I studied Gurdjieff, looking for reinforcement of what I already knew. When you talk about mysticism and the spirit, you are on pretty shakey ground. Discussion about it and ways of achieving it can be as much a hinderence as a help. I was aware that something in me knew something. Of all the systems that I studied, Gurdjieff provided the most practical approach to reaching that personal knowledge. It had nothing to do with whether or not you were going to be a better artist. Nothing! It had to do with developing your inner place, and once developed, you could apply it; it would automatically come into everything you did. My photographs are no better than my inner space. Gurdjieff teaches you that you must constantly work on your inner space."

And this from the American artist and teacher Robert Henri:

"The man who wants to procuce art must have the emotional side first...art...(is) the measure of the man."

On a purely person note, this measure of the man and no better than my inner space stuff is why I seem to have no respect for the pretty-picture gang. Their work is just shallow, and, by extension, at least to some extent, so are the "artists" - not that I think that they are "bad" people, I just don't want my step daughter to marry one.

Maybe f8-and-be-there should be changed to know-youself-and-be-there.

FEATURED COMMENT: Paul Butzi wrote:"If you don't live it, it won't come out your horn"--Charlie Parker

ku # 436 and a thought for your consideration

Maybe it's the time of year that has influenced the darkness of this photograph and those of Michel Legendre and Photopop 7.0. Collectively, we are in the grips of late afternoon sunset sets (4:27pm today) and add to that some gloomy overcast weather...

I can't speak for Michel or Photopop, but I usually don't complain about the weather - it is what it is and I take as it comes. I've even adapted to playing golf in the rain (light rain). I also photograph in the rain, something that I haven't seen much of in photographs. Certainly that is influenced by the desire of many to protect their gear but I suspect that most photographers just aren't "grabbed" by the light. They find it too drab and dreary and would probably prefer to spend their photographic time being all cheery and bright, creating photographs that are all beer and skittles.

And given our cultural preference for escapism and the avoidance of real reality, they are doing a good job of following the piper.

Me, I prefer to photograph what I see when I see it and, as much as is possible with the photographic medium, as it is. You might even say that I think reality bites - but make that "bites" as in jolts, invigorates, slaps in the face, awakens with a bang.