In October 2019, I was again privileged to partake of a workshop by Freeman Patterson and Andre Gallant in St Martins, New Brunswick, Canada. I wanted, no, I needed, to return and make sure I had not missed anything from the first go round last year.

These workshops inspired a series on Impressionistic Photography, part of which is seen below. Both Freeman and Andre have touched me with their impressionism and I thank them for their teaching. If you like Monet, you will like Freeman’s and Andre’s photographs.

I have been thinking about creativity and meaning in my photography. Is it reasonable to expect that creative photographs can transmit meaning? Why should I care? Is it possible to express “ultimate concern,” as Paul Tillich has called it, in a photograph? Ultimate concern, if you’ve never heard the term and if I can define it succinctly, seems to be that which touches the divine in us. It is that which channels the Creator through creativity; that which transcends the banality of our existence and catalyzes a connection between Creator and Created.

If all this seems really esoteric, my attempts at definitions aside, I want to relate to you what was a usually quite uncommon experience and wonderful realization for me during the workshop. I hope that in the telling, my story connects with something inside you. WARNING: This is not about photography per se, it is about vision and creativity through the lens of photography ;) BEWARE of uncomfortable language! NSFW!

For some reason, on my way to and from the workshop, I was reading books by Viktor Frankl, Rollo May, and Paul Tillich concerning creativity and being. These were books my mother read when I was in high school and I was curious, but not ready to read them until this stage of my life. Part of this interest was also catalyzed by Freeman’s 1962 thesis for the Master of Divinity, which I read last year. It touched something inside me that I wanted to discuss with him this year. His thesis, and my desire, were directed at whether photography could be used to express ultimate concern; could I find a way to express ultimate concern in my photography? I wrote about this in my February 5, 2019 blog, Filled Up (part 2): New Brunswick. My question was not about photographic technique. It was about vision, expression, meaning, creativity; it was about connection, about connecting me the photographer with you the viewer. I was soon to be surprised in an unexpected way.

My friend and fellow photographer, Lynn Fulton, arranged for us to visit with Freeman at his home prior to the workshop. As a small group of us sat conversing with him, I began to interrogate Freeman regarding my mission for the workshop, “I come in search of ultimate concern!” I expected this to come out as a light and funny pronouncement, but as sometimes happens with my humor, I didn’t achieve the desired laugh. What I had hoped would be a comedic moment evolved into a serious discussion, which I cannot remember because for the rest of the afternoon, I remained focused on my embarrassment at perhaps appearing to mock a serious question.

Then the workshop began and my imagined shame faded. Yet I was still looking for how to express ultimate concern; I made a lot fewer photographs and thought a lot deeper about each of those I did make, but I still couldn’t quite connect with my subjects; I was going through the motions.

And then it was revealed that our final assignment would be to photograph something that might be considered quite esoteric, touchy-feely, subjective, or even un-photographable. I know I thought that when I heard my assigned task: Embrace solitude. Andre and Freeman assured us that our assignments had been custom designed for each of us individually, everyone had a different “subject.” After I’d gotten over my “Oh Sh!t” reaction, I began looking everywhere, trying to imagine how to make images that would embrace solitude. Needless to say, I was somewhat frustrated.

After a glass of wine, I went to bed that night knowing I would have to turn in my dozen or so photographs by early the next afternoon. The deadline was less than 24 hours away! Tossing and turning, I finally fell asleep only to awaken about 3AM and suddenly realize that I had been unconsciously composing a vague poem in my mind. Wanting to get back to sleep, I debated what to do and finally got out of bed to at least try and write the poem down on a piece of paper. Unexpectedly, the words began to crystalize and came to me freely, almost automatically. Suddenly finished, I was at last able to return to my bed and embrace Morpheus.

When I awakened a few hours later, informed by the poem, I knew what my first photograph would be. The next fell into line as did the next, and the next, and while I wandered around New Brunswick my subjects would call to me, somehow aligning themselves with phrases from my nocturnal poem! One after another, they came to me, and then, fourteen images later, I knew I was done.

But where had I been for the previous few hours? Sure, I’d been around town, not far because New Brunswick is a very small place, but I was pretty sure I traveled a great distance. I had embraced solitude! I had discovered that in embracing solitude, I was not alone. I went to that place where I was Photographer; not a photographer; Photographer with a capital P. My thoughts and visions, my fingers on the controls of my camera, my subjects even, melded together into a moment, yet an eternity, of being. And with tears in my eyes, returning to the inn, I realized I had been praying!

Think about that; I hadn’t prayed often in more than two decades! Not words, it was ineffable joy, the recognition of the preciousness of the Creation in and around me; I am at a loss for words and tears come as I write this. Some of you may remember the movie Chariots of Fire during which Scotsman Eric Liddell, a 400 meter gold medalist during the 1924 Olympics in Paris, describes his experience, “When I run, I feel His pleasure.” I dropped on my knees with the realization that I had been here before, that place of ineffable joy, that place of Tillich’s ultimate concern. Here I had been looking for “ultimate concern” and it seems ultimate concern has found me: I was searching for that which I already knew, rather, that which already knew me!

It wasn’t just photography. I realized I had been touched by ultimate concern so many times in the past; in photography to be sure, but also in the laboratory, in the delivery room when my kids were brought into this world, more examples abound. In those countless moments I would experience grace for no good reason; for if there had been a reason, it would not be grace. Every photograph, every laboratory experiment, every precious person, every insight, is a manifestation of grace, and through the right lens, an expression of ultimate concern.

This is not to trivialize ultimate concern. Neither is it to elevate every snapshot to something extraordinary. It is to say that without seeking it, ultimate concern is difficult to find. My dad told me once that for most photographs, he shrugs and turns the page. But if one stops you in your tracks, pay attention; ultimate concern may be trying to tell you something!I shared my poem and project images with the other workshop attendees, embarrassed somewhat as I am now about the intimacy of this story. It is about photography in that the art has lead me through to this place of discovery and if I had not photography, perhaps these thoughts would never have surfaced. If we live in a material universe, why do we experience beauty, let alone faith, hope, and love? What does art touch inside us? I am profoundly aware that we hold this treasure in earthen, often profane, vessels, cracked and broken, we cry out for beauty. Why is that so? What a useless aspiration! But then I think, perhaps affirming beauty is an existential paean proclaiming that our lives matter and, if our lives really do matter, perhaps we are drawn to connect to the beauty in one another. Art, prose, music, even photography provide a medium for that connection. Art is produced in solitude, but not alone, which would render it meaningless; it is meant to be celebrated and if celebration of connectedness is not of ultimate concern, then what is?

My poem Embracing Solitude:

Alone,
We go about our busy-ness, day to endless day.
From our lonely bed, in sleepless dreams we ponder,
Does anything matter at all?

Embarrassed by our nakedness, and oh-so-many flaws,
We hurry to hide our shame, our ignorance.
Chastened, not knowing, we sense there should be more,
An answer to the WHY of our existence.

What or who will fill our frantic meaning-less-ness?
Who will embrace us, who will tell us why?
I go to the sea,
And there I stand, still, and ponder.

Eons, it seems, but slowly wisdom dawns.
From dust we came, and to dust we shall return.
Of stardust, we were made, not to be alone,
But for solitude, inescapable solitude.

I grasp this wisdom, I clutch it to my heart.
All is vanity, yet will I choose to strive for beauty.
Beauty, beauty, joyous beauty,
Beautiful joy. Joy. Playful joy.

Upwards, I will lift my eyes to affirm beauty.
I will treasure the flower, the ephemeral flower, the ephemeral star,
The ephemeral me, the riotous beauty in all creation,
A joyous riot of beauty resounds and glory fills the skies.

And so, I come full circle.
Now at peace. Complete. At rest.
I affirm beauty, a fleeting treasure. I affirm wonder,
And, finding this gracious gift, I embrace solitude.

This should have been accompanied by a synchronized slide show of the images I shared with the group, but for now, I will have to leave it as is until I can figure out how to do that.

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