Meyerowitz's 'Grand Canyon' - a successful fine art landscape photograph

While looking at Joel Meyerowitz's work I was very drawn to his photograph, Grand Canyon (1973).  I greatly enjoy looking at landscape photographs as they take me to places that I may never see; especially the way that the final shot has been produced.  Some landscapes are more documentarian in style, and others are reflections of the photographer's response to the space.

I find landscape photography one that I have not been able to succeed in.  The camera fails to capture all the intricate beauty that I see and feel.  The delicate colours and detail I saw end up harsh and bland.  I want my landscapes to share with the viewer how I felt; it is heartbreaking that I cannot achieve this.

To me landscape photography has to be extraordinary; if it needs up being just another snap of some landscape it has lost at being fine art.  There needs to be something that transcends beyond.  Multiple elements need to be at work, something that draws the viewer in.  Colour, composition, line, texture, boldness, subtlety, light and shadow are all elements that can make a landscape photo something special; Grand Canyon has all these at work in the one shot.  Still there needs to be more, something that may not be easily defined that makes it from ordinary to extraordinary.  Perhaps it a state of drama or tranquillity that make it.  Or perhaps it is the injection of emotion into a subject that one could think of as void of it, which makes the landscape photograph extraordinary.  Either way it needs to take the viewer on a journey of some kind, draw them in, create intrigue, or stir something deep within.

Through Meyerowitz's photograph I am transported to a place that does not exist in this world but only in the world of photography; an other world.  The colours are rich and contrasting, and yet there is also subtlety.  The contrasting colours and textures have created layers, as if looking at a diorama. The angle creates drama while soft changes in tone in the canyon peaks and sky create a sense of peace. The light and shadow captured adds depth, texture and even more layers to the photo. 

A sense of longing washes over me when I view this shot. I feel the warmth of the sun's rays, the air on my skin and the danger of the height.  An almost overwhelming feeling of emotion takes me over .  I am small against its grandness, and yet feel large.  There is so much beauty that it fills my spirit and overflows into my body.  I am connected to something greater than myself, it is invigorating and powerful. Nature does not try to be, it simply is.  The beauty of nature and the nature of beauty.

Using music to accompany my portfolio

I have to use music for my portfolio as it reflects who I am and how I interact with life.  Every event, every emotion I experience is tied back to music.  I could not present my folio without acknowledging it.  Music and my creative self: sometimes it aids that side to come forth; sometimes it inspires me; and sometimes it directs me.  This time it aids and inspires, just trying to pick from the right piece of music (from the hundreds I have been listening to recently), I find songs that direct new ideas.  There is never enough time.


Music helps frame the world for me.
Takes me on a journey with self.
It inspires and comforts me.
Creates reflections and windows.
It is a scream and a whisper.
It makes me laugh and makes me cry.
It is the poetry that I read.
The words that speak to me.
A soul connection.
A way out, a way in.
It amerces me. 
I close my eyes and watch the pictures dance across my lids
I let it cover me.
It pours over me, flooding my being.
My everlasting companion.


- Tempest -

My response to Mike & Doug Starn - aka The Starn Twins

I am imagining how my attitude to my public transport journey would change if it took me to such a station. Their work 'See it split, See it change', at the South Ferry Station is magnificent. A glorious thought to think of how their work would lift the spirits of those that grace the same space as it.

There is now a new psychological condition called something like Nature deficit disorder, because of the fact that so many people live their lives surrounded by concrete and steel.  Never connecting to the earth, never walking bare foot, or feeling bark against their skin. Instead completing removed from nature, with even the stars missing from the city sky. This work puts at least the thought of nature into the most unlikely of places. Wonderful.

'See it split, See it change', By the Starn Twins, at the South Ferry Station America
from http://www.starnstudio.com/MTA_SF.html


Response to other work by the Starn Twins

'Attracted to light' by The Starn Twins, found at http://www.starnstudio.com/

I love their work 'Attracted to light' and 'Structure of thought'. I felt that the viewing experience was heightened by the way they chose to show their work: the immense size of the work dominates. The thin, fragile quality of the stained photo paper creates anxiety; the rough quality of the sides of the numerous panels adds an edgy feel. I see images of the opening credits of the movie 'Se7en' (seven), and hear Nine Inch Nails - when I look at this series.

Photos that could have felt very different, even light, now feel sinister and tainted. This is so much more added to the work this way, taken beyond the simple subject matter itself and the work is more powerful for it.

'Structure of thought' by The Starn Twins, found at http://www.starnstudio.com/

After taking over 800 photos so far this semester I have found that there are ideas coming up from the depth, making their way through the weight of the number.

Snake Valley has had two consuming fires in the last decade, and the traces of its touch can still be seen throughout my parents’ forty acres of bushland. Black Saturday has changed the way we all view bushfires and I am no different. King Lake was were my parents meet, where I became, and where I lived out my early years along with my four siblings. The house we once lived in is gone now, along with so much more. Family friends were lucky to survive with their lives but not all with their homes.

The bush no longer feels so tranquil for many. The scar runs so deep, the loss so great that time can never hope to remove its trace. They lies a reminder in the mind, heart and body of the land and its inhabitants. The humans and animals affected are too raw a subject matter for me, but I do find myself drawn to the land. I feel that it shows us that the healing of trauma is possible. That although traces remain new growth can occur. From negative, positive can be found. The power in the will to continue is strong, new life will occur from the blackness. Hope still resides in what remains.

Pondering photography - Hunter

I'm a hunter stalking its prey
Carefully aligning my subject in the frame
Waiting for the perfect moment
Snap, trigger pressed
Snap, snap, it's mine
And yet a camera is not a gun at all
A gun destroys, a camera preserves
Celebrates the moment for living eyes
All from one mechanical distorting eye

A lack of time

After numerous attempts to write just the right piece for my photo collage, I feel at a loss. After all my attempts I have only written one piece that I like (previously).  One may think great as one is all you need, and yes they would be right. The trouble is that there is no way that I can illustrate the poem using photography by the end of semester, especially when there are some challenges topics in the poem. I realise that I could take a more symbolic approach and this could actually work well. I have to however be very realistic and accept that it would be a year long project and not a 12 week one.  I will not give up on the idea, instead store it away for when time is more a friend than an adversity.

Thankfully I had been taking lots of photographs with the intent of self improvement and a collection of pics for the collages. Now I start to look back at the work and hope that a new line of work will emerge.

Writing for a possible portfolio idea

Bloodshed, mayhem and destruction was what the humans brought.
The trees wept: the cruelty, the loss.
The silent witnesses to the madness of man.
Strong and resilient they stand until ripped from their land.
The trees bleed unnoticed. And yet they notice all.
It was not just for their family that they wept but for the fallen and suffering.
They watched and cried for those furred covered ones caught in metal jaws and left trapped and dying for the longest moments of time.
And for what.
They prayed for the feathered ones who lived out their existence caged, their chemical bodies distorted and broken.
And for what.
They sheltered the remains of those whose screams pierced the air and were not shown mercy.
And for what.
The trees saw all the hurt, the apathy, the drive to tear each other and all apart.
And they wondered for what.
This is the madness of man.
The dark side of their nature, a destructive and relentless force that festers within, hungry and urgent.
With every passing moment of time the trees saw the humans only take thanklessly and with perceived entitlement.
The trees only gave.
They felt man distance himself from them, like nature was a disease where the only cure was to eradicate.
And so the divide came, a wound that would not heal.
Man's feet no longer touched the ground, skin and bark did not meet.
Destruction and detachment, and so the divide widened; a tear that ripped through the soul of this world.
The trees stood silent and still caring, strong they withstood for the longest of time.
They watched and listened and knew that with time ever shortening they would no longer be the last to stand.