Profound and Profane

CAUTION: Some bad words appear herein! You’ve been warned ;)

I was able to take my first workshop this year after an 18 month dry spell. No air travel required, I drove directly to Joshua Tree National Park where I’d always wanted to return, having been quite frustrated with the results of my first visit. I didn’t really care about who the instructor was (more on that later) and just wanted to shoot the park again under different conditions.

Visiting JTNP for the first time in late October 2017, the mid-day sun was not ideal. However, the first subject that grabbed my attention was the massive boulders strewn everywhere. Less interesting to me were the Dr Seuss trees here and there, almost human, but sort of creepy, too. Besides, EVERYBODY shoots Joshua Trees! And the light was not ideal, harshly beaming straight down, nothing magic about that. Plus, we were also on a tight schedule to see my cousin, Bonnie Greene in Banning and then on to Walnut Creek. My wife generously let me shoot for a couple hours, but I knew I needed to return for morning and evening light, which would obviously require more time.

Fast forward to March 2021. From Cottonwood AZ, I took the leisurely route to Twenty-nine Palms via US 60 then on to CA 62 past the Coxcomb Mountains in the Joshua Tree Wilderness. Filled with anticipation like returning home or taking care of unfinished business, I found the barren dun landscape invigorating for reasons I don’t fully understand.

Meeting the group, well, as best you can with covered faces, and after a brief orientation, we headed off to make photographs in the evening light. That’s when I made my first mistake. While the rest of our small group followed the instructor who had set his tripod to shoot the crescent moon through the arms of a Joshua Tree, I was called to a massive boulder, happily oblivious to the suspicious glances cast my way.

I did try other subjects, but for some reason I kept returning to those boulders. Curious. I don’t know why they attract me so. In the twilight, brimming with euphoria, I expressed gratitude to my esteemed host. I have been pondering ever since why my naive enthusiasm was met with a strange glare.

Boulder - Night

The next morning, after a dawn foray during which I returned to my boulders, we had a didactic session all wearing masks like good little party members. When the instructor described how he had made millions selling photographic prints, I finally understood the suspicious glare I’d received the previous evening. Roughly 42.73% 😉 of his teaching concerned photographic success as measured by sales and something about a Ferrari. Hmm, whither art? This is when I made my second mistake: I presented a few color prints for consideration. Well, what did I know? I was just a beginner.

Accustomed to critical comments in my prior career, I was nevertheless somewhat puzzledby such an epithet rendered paradoxically within the context of art as free expression: No judge, but the artist. Good or bad, thoughtful or inane, it is up to the artist to determine if a given piece communicated his or her objective. I measure quality according to the correspondence between rendering and artistic intent; craftsmanship, skill in the application of artistic tools, depends on experience and talent. In the end, I decided I didn’t give a shit. For me, success is in the journey, not the destination. Somehow my “suspicion” or rather, my skepticism was transmitted to ze instructor 😇 Oh well...

That being said, my experience with pursuit of artistic expression can often feel akin to whistling in the dark. Or pissing in the ocean. Or parroting clichés. Or pandering to assholes. Or all of the above. I think artists spend a lot of time wandering in the desert. I love wandering in the desert, but it’s a fine line between wandering and navel gazing; just had to add that 😇

Wondering as I am wandering brings me to my second point. I have been reading a series by Luigi Giussani, The Religious Sense, which I was put onto by my friend Christophe Potworowski, a fabulous photographic artist (his website). Giussani’s thesis is human experience intuits a reality beyond understanding; this Mystery is the universal sense there must be meaning in our existence; even though we cannot fully apprehend it. Apprehend as in pursuit and arrest of a thief rather than realization. About this Mystery, I wonder as I wander. When I am writing. When making photographs. Beside the sea. On a mountain trail. Cresting a new vista. At every sunrise, sunset. In the eyes of my family and friends. I yearn to share this profound wonder in my photography.

The following represents the closest I have come to expressing such “numinations” symbolically in a photograph:

Before the Mystery

Note the boulder. Some would describe it as a big, oddly shaped rock. Others would emphasize its size, maybe conduct a precise measurement, or perhaps mention its yellowish color and rough texture. Still others might say, if only you’d waited until later in the evening, you could have captured it during magic hour and, by the way, get closer. Try black and white. And so forth; all are accurate in proportion to an observer’s interest.

For me, there are mostly questions. How did it come to stand in this precise location with this precise posture? Is it in danger of toppling? How long has it stood thus? Has anyone else come upon this boulder and wondered about it as I have? What might they have noticed and I missed? And so forth. Perhaps we can minimally agree that the rock and its circumstances constitute a mystery that remains open for now. What caught my eye, however, is the second figure in the frame. A lone cypress tree, wizened and bent, its back bowed, gaze averted in supplication as it is regarded by the Mystery. I can imagine a dialogue between them, a dialogue that takes place in the cold light of day, challenges, points, counterpoints, perhaps for a moment, perhaps for an eternity, the profound confronting the profane. And I hear silence. It is not empty silence. It is silence pregnant with meaning. Obviously, your mileage may vary.

Perhaps it was the next morning, maybe the one after, I drove to our meeting spot before anyone else had arrived, wanting to be alone in the stillness. I wandered out into the desert darkness, a headlight on my forehead, not sure what I was looking for, until I found it. A Joshua Tree reaches for the Moon as it awaits dawn. It was still early, but I could anticipate it all coming together, even without an instructor. Imagine that!

Joshua Tree Moonset

Some would call it a cliché. For me, it has a somewhat primal feel, yet it seems full of promise. Something out of Genesis. The Joshua Tree, interesting name, no longer creepy, twisted and sharp, dead leaves here and there, small in this vast landscape, reaches for light. No longer profane, it just reaches for that which gives it sustenance. Maybe we are all reaching. This doesn’t seem like a cliché to me, just a common experience, a point of connection. But then, what do I know? I’m just a beginner. And that’s OK.

I have been busy with other things as well. A couple months ago, I acquired software that allows me to make better digital negatives and have been revisiting some older images, particularly those with high ISO where noise can be a problem. If you are curious, send me a note.

I am also considering a revision to my website. Rather than “Recents” or “Top 100” I am thinking about organizing images into projects: Boulders, for example 😉 We’ll see. Cheers!