“Silence. We are seldom conscious when silence begins—it is only afterward that we realize what we have been a part of. In the night journeys of Canada geese, it is the silence that propels them. Thomas Merton writes, ‘Silence is the strength of our interior life.… If we fill our lives with silence, then we will live in hope.'” — Terry Tempest Williams
It might not seem surprising that silence has been on my mind lately, given my lack of posts this year. The truth is that 2014 has been very busy, and I’ve spent a lot of time in quiet contemplation. There is peace to be found in silence: sometimes we are afraid the moment will be ruined with words that can’t do it justice; sometimes we find forgotten spaces within ourselves–spaces that have long since been buried. We tend to not wander into these open and unprotected expanses, but rather build against them, filling them with things that obscure our view.
Normally by this time of year, I’ve taken several trips. By contrast, I’ve been content to focus on local landscapes this year. One of my favorite images so far was made in a little grove of trees in the riverbed along my normal Saturday morning running route. I’ve been eyeing it for weeks, and the weather finally cooperated on a morning I was able to get down there.
I’ve also taken advantage of clearing storms in the mountains, and an invitation from a friend for an early morning hike on the beach. There’s been a certain joy in creating images close to home this year. Normally my trips are planned out on a limited itinerary and involve tiring travel. I’m not saying I don’t enjoy visiting far-off places (not even close), however by removing the stress of an abbreviated schedule and unfamiliar landscapes from the equation, I have the flexibility to let the light rather than the calendar dictate the situation, allowing me to relax and be more creative.
Movement seems to be an unintended theme in my images so far this year, but perhaps it’s fitting; we’re always quietly in motion, always changing. When the clutter and fillers are cleared away, our own evolution becomes unmistakable and unmissable in the image-making process. It’s these discrete, silent moments of self-reflection that propel us in making inspired art. So it is that the open spaces we have unearthed no longer represent dullness, but vision and hope.
I find the evolution becomes more obvious as I age. Time does really seem to accelerate even if we know it can not. With age and a little more free time I reflect more often: on mortality, on modest achievements, on failures, on loved ones I have lost and yes, on my images. The restless dissatisfaction gets stronger as I realise that time is running against me, time to produce the one image I am happy to leave behind. Silence is found in the dead of night with the mind working overtime. Sleep eludes me more and more. Each of your 3 images is very pleasing to the eye, Greg but the middle one strikes me most strongly.
Thanks for your always insightful comments, Andrew. I can certainly relate to what you talk about here, about the mind working overtime, and sleep eluding you. it’s in the quiet hours of the early morning that I find so much peace and silence.
As for the dissatisfaction of making that one image, I am not quite to that point, but I do feel a similar way about finding consistency in my art and in my voice. Creating as “true” of art as possible, so to speak…
A really great post Greg that I can certainly relate to. Sometimes the places close to home are easy to overlook as we become more accustomed to them. I know that for myself, every time I explore my backyard I’m constantly reminded about how much beauty there is to experience in the simplest of places.
This is always a good reminder, Kyle. The more I look around my city, in urban southern California, the more I realize I could spend a lifetime here, making images *within the city limits.* It’s pretty amazing actually.
Thanks for your comment–as always, I really appreciate it!
Sage thoughts, Greg. I recently had the re-re-re-revelation about the importance of silence.
My life has been hectic for a few months, too, with silence hard to find. But, it truly is within these moments — hopefully glaringly honest and clear — that we (or at least I) have potential for growth.
I’m sure many have found this and, hard as it is when “life” pulls us from such times, it’s always so rewarding to find (or re-re-re-find) them again.
You and I are having a similar season, it seems – busy and subdued. I certainly find there are times when I just don’t have the heart to share much photography, even though the creative impulse is still there. Very nice local work, though. That second shot is a truly outstanding abstract!