Preferences, choices and opinions

Yesterday afternoon I got a call from the newspaper: would I be willing to photograph a silent bicycle ride in honor of bicyclists who have been killed or injured on the road?

These requests are rare; the paper has a staff of paid photographers, and I am just a stringer, used when noone else is available. So I try always to say yes and do the best I can. But there are always challenges and surprises in these little jobs. In this case, I had been told what their route would be and positioned myself accordingly, but instead of coming toward me through the intersection they turned left, and I found myself photographing mostly backs.

So (since I can't walk faster than a bike) I got in my car and went to the roundabout, thinking a shot of them circling the roundabout would be really cool, but again they made an unanticipated turn. So I went back to where they had started -- it was only to be a twenty minute ride, so I figured it would not be long before they returned -- and waited. This time the direction was perfect, but it was late and the clouds were gathering for a storm, so the light wasn't strong enough and everything was a blur.

Fortunately I had taken lots of shots at each of the intersections, trying to stay open and flexible to the possibilities, so despite the challenges there were some images that worked. And then it came down to the essence of any artist's work: choices. Which shots were better compositions, which shots did a better job of conveying the gravity of the moment, which shots had better light and color, which shots were more in focus. In the end I submitted three, of which this was my favorite, because, though the man in front is not in perfect focus, he appears to be thinking very soberly of the purpose of his ride.

This morning, continuing my reading of Mitchell's anthology, The Enlightened Heart, I came to a poem called "The Mind of Absolute Trust" by a late 6th century philosopher named Seng-Ts'An. And the opening line of the poem reads:

The Great Way isn't difficult
for those who are unattached to their preferences.

...and then in a later verse,

Don't keep searching for the truth,
Just let go of your opinions.

My first thought, upon reading this, was complete discouragement: no wonder I cannot seem to approach enlightenment: I am an artist, and art is ALWAYS about preferences and choices. And though I have heard it said that digital photography is not art, because you can do all those after-the-fact manipulations, I think it has become MORE of an art because of that.

With any camera you need to make choices: what to shoot, when to shoot, where to stand, what to focus on, which settings to use, what to convey. And then, in any darkroom, whether film or digital, there are more choices: what to burn or dodge, how much exposure, how to balance the colors.

But in the digital darkroom still more choices emerge: should anything be removed or added to balance this image? What might be blurred or sharpened, stretched or condensed, raised, lowered, twisted... and all of those are essentially artistic decisions. Reality becomes a medium, like paint, to be poured onto a surface in measured doses, in whatever way seems best to convey what the artist feels a need to communicate.

As a film photographer I felt safe: there were distinct boundaries defining my work for me -- and these boundaries are still very much there even in the digital world if I am shooting for the newspaper. But if my work is art, then those boundaries of truth, accuracy and the limitations of the moment are removed and the choices become almost infinite.

But now, reading Seng-Ts'An again, I see it is not the making of choices, that constant spin of yes and no around the circumference of life that dooms me. It is only attachment to the choices that will cause a problem. And that's where the ego comes in: it's okay for me to say that this choice or that is better for this image or that one. It's when I say that those were the RIGHT choices, or when I become convinced that one image or artist or friend or food or American Idol contestant or presidential candidate is absolutely imperatively irrevocably better than another that I get into trouble.

Because in reality each choice may have validity in certain circumstances, and circumstances are always changing, just like the path my bikers took. Life is unpredictable; perhaps it is better to stay in the moment; to remain flexible and open, ready and willing to shift to the opposite corner if that which you are here to capture or learn makes an unexpected move.