"Isn’t it wonderful the way the world holds both the deeply serious, and the unexpectedly mirthful?"
"But later, watching M. when she was taking photographs, and watching her in the darkroom, and no less watching the intensity and openness with which she dealt with friends, and strangers too, taught me what real attention is about. Attention without feeling, I began to learn, is only a report. An openness — an empathy — was necessary if the attention was to matter. Such openness and empathy M. had in abundance, and gave away freely… I was in my late twenties and early thirties, and well filled with a sense of my own thoughts, my own presence. I was eager to address the world of words — to address the world with words. Then M. instilled in me this deeper level of looking and working, of seeing through the heavenly visibles to the heavenly invisibles. I think of this always when I look at her photographs, the images of vitality, hopefulness, endurance, kindness, vulnerability… We each had our separate natures; yet our ideas, our influences upon each other became a rich and abiding confluence."
The language of photography has become the language of my being. It reflects the poles of my mind (the black and white) and the search for the shades in between (grayscale). The bokeh of my personal landscape as I journey to areas where I have little depth. Me, exposed, navigating a new and curious life - finding my focal point. It is the language that transcends my photographic life. It is merely the language of life.
Visual language is often now the first I use when meeting kindred spirits. Words come later, friendship later still, but respect for how we see is there from the start. I have through photography learned that experiences are not always in focus until time and distance clarify them. I understand now that we are often meant to walk for awhile together.