When we set out to make a photograph, it’s hard not to conjure up a set of pre-conceived notions about the kind of photograph we want to attempt.  We pre-visualize the end result, and in doing so, that Rolodex of images we have stored in our brain, images we may have seen before, blast their way into our mind’s eye.

This is what Pierre Elliot Trudeau had to say about canoeing:

"What sets a canoeing expedition apart is that it purifies you more rapidly and inescapably than any other travel. Travel a thousand miles by train and you are a brute; pedal five hundred on a bicycle and you remain basically a bourgeois; paddle a hundred in a canoe and you are already a child of nature."

“Catching The Big Fish” is the title of a book by American film maker David Lynch.  It is,
as the sub-title suggests, a thoughtful exploration of “meditation, consciousness, and creativity.”  Here’s how Lynch introduces the concepts in the book: 

Over the next few days you will see a new tab on the home page called  “The Photographer’s Muse”.  This new page will include weekly exercises designed to unlock your creative potential and it will introduce you to some ideas and concepts designed to encourage your growth as a photographer.  Think of The Photographer’s Muse as a sort of Photo Flashcard - exercises designed to help you develop your creative voice.  I’ll also post them on Twitter and on Facebook where I will encourage you to share your images and your comments about the exercises.

So, to follow the last entry, where does all of this lead us?  Armed with a grasp of the interpretive, constructive nature of photography, the mindful photographer enters a whole new world of creativity, no longer bound by the need to record everything in a literal sense that he or she sees.  To help with this process, try some of these techniques.  Approach them as Gross and Shapiro suggest in the Tao of Photography: “playfully.”  

I also suggest you approach them with a clear mind, with mindful attention, relaxed awareness.   Approach your subject quietly, with reverence.  Listen intently and fully to your subject.

Many years ago, one of the lectures I gave in a Photojournalism course I taught at the college was titled, “A Photograph:  Tangible Proof An Event Has Occurred.”  The hypothesis being, that if a photograph of an event existed, that was proof conclusive that particular event did in fact occur.  It was a lecture meant to drive home the obligation a photojournalist had to be truthful in how they documented a particular event.  

I promised myself I would not use this space for anything other than personal observations about the art of photography but having made it to the other side of heart surgery, I am compelled to break my one and only rule.

I would like to thank everyone who sent Lynda and I their thoughts and prayers and who kept in touch during the last couple of months as we weathered a most trying time.  Those emails, cards, and calls were tremendously important to us, and we are eternally grateful for the kindnesses.