Camera
Therapy is an essential part of my health routine.
I
first became aware of the therapeutic effects of photography when I was
traveling the West along the route of the Lewis and Clark expedition. I had
drafted a novel about the expedition and was revising it as I drove back roads
along the Missouri and Columbia Rivers, trying to see at least some of the
landscape as the explorers had seen it. I was also taking a lot of photos.
Photography
was an important but rarely indulged hobby at the time. It was the stage of my
career when I was working at unpleasant and non-photographic jobs to save
enough money to retire and do what I'm doing now, traveling and photographing
the world I see. I had taken a leave of absence to work on the Lewis and Clark
novel.
One
afternoon I was walking through a campground in a meadow near Helena, Montana. Wind
howled across the treeless landscape and the sun played dodge 'em with fluffy
clouds, alternately lighting and shading the craggy mountaintops surrounding me.
A pair of mule deer grazed at the edge of the meadow.
I
was carrying my camera and trying to capture the scenery, and not doing a very
good job of it, but I was suddenly overwhelmed by a feeling of perfect bliss.
For the first time in a long time, I felt complete, like I was who I was
supposed to be, doing what I was supposed to do, where I was supposed to do it.
At
the time, I attributed this to the whole experience I was engaged in,
traveling, writing, exploring new things, learning and absorbing all of this experience
into my core existence. Photography was just part of it. The last time I had
felt that way was when I was hiking the Appalachian Trail with my camera in
1982.
It
didn't occur to me until later that the camera was the reason for that bliss.
When I began to approach retirement a few years ago and knew that I would soon
have the opportunity to fulfill this long time photography dream, I began
spending as much of my free time as I could out shooting or toiling away at the
computer trying to perfect my images. It was a stressful time. Big changes were
happening in my life -- divorce, kids leaving the nest, and the stress of
continuing to work in a job that grew more boring and less fulfilling day by
day.
And
that's when I realized that the time I was putting in with the camera was more
than just practice. The process of finding and photographing local birds and
wildlife was exposing something else: me. The person who had to hide in someone
else at work came out jubilantly when I picked up the camera and went walking.
I was fully me again.
Then
a few months ago, I discovered why it works like that, when I came across Carl
Jung's explanation for the difference between the conscious and the unconscious
minds. The conscious mind, he said, can be trained. The untrainable unconscious
mind belongs to the collective unconscious, which Jung felt was the same in
everyone. Much of Jungian psychology revolves around finding one's unconscious.
And
there it was. My conscious mind deals with all the technical aspects of
photography, which have always been easy for me for some reason. Camera
controls, exposure, focal lengths, white balance, all those numbers things I
get because I trained myself to get them.
The
rest of it, from pre-visualizing the image to finally presenting it, come from
the unconscious. Art works when it comes authentically from the unconscious. The
receptive viewer sees a work of art not only consciously, but also unconsciously, and in
that moment connects with the artist's unconscious and feels the collective
unconscious.
At
least that's how I think Jung would explain it.
I
explain it this way: In order to make photographs, my conscious and
subconscious minds have to get along. They have to communicate, collaborate and
cooperate. There has to be harmony within the space between my ears and between
the head and the heart.
And
photography is one of the few activities where this happens. The rest of the
time the conscious and unconscious are fighting like little children, and
sometimes all you can do is put them in time out and shut the door. But when I
can, I gather the cameras and the backpack and the tripod and head to the
nearest refuge for fresh air and communion with true nature -- both the world's
and my own.
That's
camera therapy. Maybe I can get my health insurance to cover the cost of my
next big lens.
My favorite part: "There has to be harmony within the space between my ears and between the head and the heart." Judging from your images, you achieve that harmony more often than not. Thanks for sharing.
ReplyDeleteHi George, I read this post over a month ago but did not comment at the time. Since then I am thinking about creativity more, and reading "The Artist's Way"...(if you haven't read it, you should!) I am re -watching a documentary about Frida Kahlo's art and wanted to come back and read this post...it's lovely! The more I think about life, the wiser Jung is. Hope all is well with you!
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