Bronwyn in garden tomato house, from "America at Home" book

This past year I was involved with the America at Home project and this photo ran in it.  Recently this image appeared on the Martha Stewart show. At the time of this assignment, I knew they would choose this photo. For most of that summer,  Bronwyn slept in the garden to protect her plants from the deer.

Kawa'aloa bay at sunrise, Molokai, HI

This past week we had a wonderful workshop called Rekindling The Creative Spirit. I would usually read this piece at the beginning of each of our workshops. I missed doing that so I now include it.

Each of us has a vision, a pure way of seeing that is uniquely our own. We are like a one-of-a-kind of camera with an unlimited film supply, recharging batteries and a storage recording bank that edits as we get older. And yet, we don’t realize how incredibly unique, how valuable our individual way of seeing really is. Each one of us is captured in a different way by an image.

What I am curious about is: “what turns my head? What grabs my attention? What takes me before I can identify it?” I am interested in core vision: the level of seeing before words, categories, or response. Noticing what touches me, inspires me, allows me to see as a child, discovering the incredible wonder of the life around me for the first time.

There are many layers covering this inner vision. Often my seeing is linked to words and thoughts identifying and naming everything I see. Getting below that level is easy and challenging at the same time. It requires getting beyond how I normally see, how my family sees (or saw), how I was culturally effected. (Does a native in Africa see differently than I do?) My biggest impediment to seeing simply is identifying, judging and naming.

“Today I’m going to go out and take a great photograph.”

When I take this intention and agenda apart, I start to notice just how much limits me, how I color the circumstance and the image before I even shoot. I haven’t mentioned the word photography or photographer yet. This is another bag of tricks; now we have to carry stuff, worry about numbers, exposures, our worries about the technical end of photography.

Then we get to our personal mobile mind field, the one we bring everywhere: our insecurities about being seen and being judged by our work. How about a little comparison to everyone around us who is more professional, better organized, (better looking!) or has better equipment. The quagmire is getting deeper.

Then last but not least, my doubts: can I do it well enough? professionally? What happens if I don’t do it well enough, if I fail and my whole world comes down? It is a wonder that we still want to be photographers! Yet there is an excitement and an enthusiasm to discover, to see! What if I could just show up, completely neutral, ready to receive whatever gift GOD and Creation and the life around me is offering today?

Seeing simply starts now it will never happen later.

I step out, pick up the camera, stand aside from the momentum of my life, and move in pure trust, waiting to be taken by life through my seeing. I pray. I’m ready for that hundredth of a second that turned my head, before words: the moment of pure connection. Discipline carries me through: I shoot the image that catches my eye. Then I return to neutral. I’m trying to quiet my brain from asking “what’s next?” I notice the trying, take a deep breath, feel my feet on the ground and move to trust. It is this attitude that leads me into the unknown, uncontrollable next offering.

I can only speak of my approach, my discoveries and experiences. Each of you will continue to discover ways to be more present. You will learn the importance of honoring your internal pace, moving just as slowly or quickly as you need to, for you. In doing so, you will find the gift of tranquility and peace that will help you to see life more simply.

I can’t teach people to be present. The best I can do is to be present with people. My advice?  Slow down. Notice how you color your photographs before you take them. Discover for yourself how to show up in neutral: seeing simply, simply seeing.

Solstice afternoon, low tide at Kapuaiwa Palm Grove

Great evening, alone in front of the Grove. So much to be thankful and hopeful for in this upcoming year.

Sometimes I wonder what is the result of this personal pondering. I want to simplify and understand what I naturally do in my life and in my photography.  How can I share what I have practiced for so long and make it addressable to those friends I teach and others I encounter?

Lately I have been having this dialogue with my new friend Duncan from Oregon.  Like kindred cousins sharing and discovering our paths and passions, a lively discourse has ensued.  When he was describing his large panoramas, images that he was so excited about printing (but having a hard time justifying), I said, “Follow your excitement! Trust your excitement.  For me, my path is my excitement.”  This statement can appear to be selfish and indulgent.  But I realize that my excitement has been my most successful path.  It is a special feeling that I have learned to follow. 

The photograph of a bullet hole in a windshield taken somewhere in Montana reminds me of my early attempts at becoming a photographer.  In the late 60’s, I wandered around photographing in the American west.  In those days, all I was excited about shooting was dead cars.  For about four years, no matter where I wandered, that was the most prolific subject I pursued. I did not sell many dead car photos in my early gallery shows, so I worked as a carpenter in those early years. It made no sense.

Years later, my wife Bronwyn used these images to create a slide show (“Metamorphosis”) that in 1989 won the highest award in the audio visual world.  I learned through this to trust my excitement, about photography – and whatever else is important to me.  I don’t argue or need to justify the excitement that comes up in me.  I treasure it, nurture it, and do my best to be with it because this is me at my most alive.  This is when I am seeing with the clearest vision.  Often without words, I disappear and blend with my subject and all that is around me.  This is my goal – to show up fully engaged with life in each moment and to be fed by the excitement that is Life.

Sitting here now, working on the image of old windshield takes my breath away and helps to keep me on the excitement path. So thank you Duncan for helping me with this simple reminder: my excitement is my Path. 

So here I am again, back to looking and musing with these images that have chosen my attention. Today, I’m focused on Ierusalems Hou church in Halawa Valley, at the east end of Molokai. I’m chewing on how I photograph the same subject in different ways.  One of the notions that Dewitt and I  discuss in the photo seminars is that, “there is more than one right answer” to how I photograph, in fact see.  When I’m drawn to a subject like this church and take an image that excites me, at that moment, I don’t stop, and say “that was great ” and go home.  Often this is the beginning and at that moment the door opens in me to a deeper dialogue with the subject.  In these timeless moments, I disappear, as I’m filled with the richness of this immersion and connection with the subject.  For me me wandering in and with this church  has brought me back to it many times.  The blend of the circumstance and  my attitude  brings new and different  images.  Here the artistic excitement in me guides the way.  Often leading me to different results, like the painterly richness of simple color, or the stark nostalgic drama of infrared, and even panoramas.  For me,” they are all right answers” and each speaks of the gift of receiving these visual insights.  Even as I revisit these images, I am left with the gratitude for all they have given.

Years ago, when I received my first NGS assignment to photograph Molokai, I remember Bob Gilka (then director of photography) telling me, “this will probably be your most difficult assignment, as you will be working in your backyard.” He said this because,” so much for you has become so familiar that it is hard to see without the contrast of newness and freshness.”  Over the years, I have reflected and chewed on this advice.  Even in our photo workshops, Dewitt and I have taught and discussed the concept of “art in your life.”  This is an attempt for me to see more intentionally, the beauty close at hand; as in the chard drying at the kitchen sink and and the brushes after Stewart’s workshop.  These photos teach me so much about my noticing.  Often when I least expect it something turns my head, in the midst of busyness, and not photographing, and yet a glimpse into my rich life close by.  Together they become an intimate tapestry of my world, full of gratitude and for me art.  Slowly the realization comes that I am also the art in my life, even the artist.  Well Bob, after all these years, I’m still in the backyard working your suggestion out. Only now I’m slowing down on purpose so that when I do notice the richness and texture of this life, I can be in it more fully. 

Years ago , during my first NGS assignment covering my island home, Molokai, my friend Paul Chesley came out to stay with me. He had just finished photographing a book on the Continental Divide for NGS. Paul was the person who gave me the encouragement to propose this story on Molokai.  As I was covering the island, I was continuously stumped with my coverage of the chicken fights in Kualapuu.  So Paul came down  with me to witness this illegal event that was an important part of this community.  I had been photographing the fights for a while with permission from the house organizer Toleen. (at the center in blue shorts.) There weren’t many haoles in the crowd.  After a while, and a few fights,  Paul suggested, “how about the old Nicholas Devore rule, When in doubt, go up.” ( Nicholas was a great friend of Paul’s, a wonderful talent at NGS, and sadly since has passed on.)  So with Pauls help I got up on the chicken house roof and took a series of photos from this fresh perspective and resulted with this image.  Amazingly no one was looking up at this large haole on the roof with two cameras.  It is also a testament to having permission in advance and a photographer friend, who helped me get through my block to the solution that symbolized the whole event.  I cannot count the number of times that I have thought of Nicholas’ advice when I have been stuck.  Later, I gave this print to Toleen, who I have remained friendly with over these past thirty years.  A number of the people in this photo have passed away and this photo is a reminder of their passion for this sport and a moment when they were so engrossed.  Since then, these fights aren’t part of the community and have long been underground.  Today I realize how fortunate I was to witness this rich event that today is part of this island’s rich history.  I dedicate this to the memory of Pepeto Mondoy, the greatest chicken fighter/ trainer on Molokai, who graciously vouched for me and got me in the door.

Today as I write I’m thinking of Jonathan, who is on his first NGS assignment in Virginia, and I’m wishing him clear vision, patience and deep excitement to lead the way. It’s great to know that Matt is with him, as Paul was there to help me see. I look forward to reading about this in his blog.

Today, I photographed great friend, Flint in the Hui pool. Actually, I was really interested in his new tattoo that took months to do. This image is so personal to him and symbolizes his spiritual path and, in fact his life. The carp’s struggle through the rapids, tells of man’s quest for enlightenment and the difficulties along the way.

So three of us collaborated as we photographed in the pool. We had a good dialogue and checked out the images as they came up. I even shot a few in infrared as I knew that the water would turn black and the skin would turn white. I have photographed tattoos before in IR. All the stuff of loosing myself in the moment didn’t happen so much, but we had a wonderful time catching up.

Where things got interesting was once I downloaded the images into my computer. The graphic quality of the IR especially captured me. Soon, I was off on an inner adventure pulling in the full gamut of the potential of Photoshop, Nik’s filters, tone mapping and noise reduction. The only intention here was to communicate the power of this tattoo and it’s innate aliveness with Flint.  My only guide in this process was the spark of excitement in me that guided the way through a whole world of potentials and opportunities that these programs offer. So here I sit indoors and lost in the process, filled with new enthusiasm. I just love it when time flies by and I’m having so much fun. I can’t think of a better way to honor and connect with a friend. Thank you, Flint.

Since the photo workshop, with the lawns cut, the electrical fixed, I have been scanning some of my old Kodachrome slides that are about 40 years old.  For years I have been an advocate for the ‘the moment’ as the greatest gift in the process of seeing and connecting to the life around us.  My strategies have been to show up in neutral, ready to receive, and when the moment connects me to the subject in a way that takes my breath away, I immerse myself in slow motion where time stands still and I disappear.  All that exists is the subject that took my full attention.  I practice for this moment so that it will stretch as much as possible.  This is the reward.  It fills me, aligns me and leaves me with a taste of profound gratitude.  Usually I have forgotten to breathe so I am out of breath.

For the past days I have been revisiting some old favorite photos – dead cars that lead me into a life of photography.  It is fun to feel the richness of color and stark sculptural presence they still have where their lives stopped in the environment.  I can feel through the fog of time the thrill of discovery when I first found them.  Today as I work on these images in Lightroom and Photoshop, I enlarge them to 100% and go into the moments like a window to clean the dust spots and sharpen the old lines.  The result is a new freshness with these old friends.  Now they are sharper, better exposed and in this moment digitally reborn. 

I wonder what this does to me?  It is exciting in a new way as I reconnect through time to these old friends.

With the photography class over and my final day with Jonathan coming to a close, I can feel the pace of my life about to slow down. So much has transpired in the last two weeks: a new computer system and time capsule hard drive backup, reorganizing and updating all of my systems inside, also learning new techniques in my photographing with my camera and computer programs. With all this has come a new excitement as I digest and assimilate all of this newness. A quiet confidence seems to be creeping in with my relationship the computer.

I’m slowing down so that I can notice things like this driveway (see photo) that I walk back and forth on all day. Occasionally, I take a photograph that reminds me of the beauty that is part of my everyday life.  This process fills me with gratitude.  I’m left to ponder what qualities does this simple gratitude feel like ? The most immediate responses that arise in me are a sense of fullness and contentedness that leave me quieter and at peace. My hope is to return more often to this place in me and to thank those who help along the way. For now thank you Brontums  for all your behind the scenes coordination that make everything here at the Hui seem to flow so smoothly. Jonathan , thank you for all that you have taught me and for helping me to open the doors to new areas of creativity, all presented in such an easy manner. To our Hui staff, thank you for all the care you give in moving this endeavor most gracefully onwards. Each of you truly are  an inspiration.