Photography #2 - Death of the Wilderness
Human beings are story tellers. We tell ourselves a story each day about who
we are. We take what we had yesterday,
seek confirmation that it is still true and add to it with the experiences we
have in each moment. We also have
stories about where we came from. Some
of these are evident in our consciousness while others are hidden deep. The hidden ones have a big impact on us
affecting our mood and emotions. Landscape
photography triggers hidden stories about our past, what we want and what we
fear losing.
It is no surprise to you that we have not yet fully evolved
to have breakfast, lunch and supper at set times and to work in offices from
9-5. The design we still live with is to
hunt, gather, reproduce, and nurture.
The latter will involve fighting as a necessary process to protect our
own. Our job is to protect our gene
pool. Nothing more nothing less. Over the coming millions of years as we morph
to post human mixtures of silicon and genetic matter we will adapt and be far
better equipped for the life we are living today than we are now.
A sublime landscape photograph can trigger these hidden
stories of our past. A portrait can
capture our unconscious attention because there is a resemblance to a parent or
a loved one or a feared one. Our eye is
scanning for something we can trust or see in a face to help us create a story
about our safety or danger as we look at this face. Whenever we see a face we cannot stop
ourselves doing this even though we know the face is only an image in a
photograph. Similarly, landscape
photographs can trigger connections to our yearning to be within and conquer
the wilderness in which we spent most of our existence. Sunrises impact us to think of a new day
beginning after rest and sunsets prepare us for the days ending prior to
rest.
Show us a photograph of an office and a wide-open space and
most of us will believe we prefer the latter.
This is even true if the latter is a frozen landscape full of bears and
high mountains to climb and the office is warm, with comfortable furniture and
all the food and drink we could need.
The wilderness is natural to us and where our instincts tell us we
should be.
The wilderness is disappearing fast and we are witnessing
its dying days. I write this in Pisa
prior to a landscape photography week with Tim Mannakee and some friends. At 6 am this morning around the leaning tower
there were a handful of young people and a one other early morning photographer
hoping for good light. It was peaceful,
tranquil and felt good. Almost as
peaceful as midnight when I arrived last night. By 11am the place was swarming with coach
loads of tourists and football crowd processions of people snapping each other
in front of the tower, taking the 40 euro 20 minute horse and cart tour. Everyone on the planet is now getting out to
experience the places they must see and they all want to see the same things.
The same is happening to our landscapes. A reaction of people like me to Pisa today is
to want to get away to somewhere peaceful and away from the crowds. More and more people are doing the same with
the consequence that the private spaces are fast disappearing. Game reserves in even the remotest parts of
the world are now all but theme parks now with tracks laid out, food provisions
and perfect safety all close by.
Our wilderness and landscapes are important to us and
provide support to the way we are designed today and the story we tell
ourselves about ourselves. It is
important that photographers capture the landscapes we have today as a record
of what is in the process of being lost.
I say this with a little trepidation knowing that encouraging this
activity runs the risk of speeding up the demise of something at the core of
who we are.
Len Williamson
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