Just reading about Ruskin in the excellent little book "The Art of
Travel' by Alain de Botton ( modern philosopher who can actually
write!) He's interested in Ruskin's comments about 'seeing' intensely
in the way that a sketch artist would and it locked into some of my
own ideas about what we choose to photograph. Even in the mid 1800's
he was concerned about the speed of tourism, the way traveller see so
little in a real sense and the (already) misuse of photography to
'capture' beauty in only a superficial way.
"True possession of a scene is a matter of making a conscious effort
to notice elements and understand their construction. We can see
beauty well enough just by opening our eyes but how long this beauty
survives in memory depends on how intentionally we have apprenhended
it. The camera blurs the distinction between looking and noticing,
between seeing and possessing; it may give us the option of true
knowledge but it may unwittingly make the effort of acquiring it
superfluous. It suggests we have done all the work by simply taking
the photograph, whereas prperly to eat a place, a woodland for
example, implies asking ourselves a series of questions like, 'How do
the stems connect to the roots?' 'Where's the mist coming from,' 'Why
does one tree seem darker than another?' - questions implicitly
raised and answered in the process of sketching."
(de Botton's words)
I'm not going away during this holiday break (and remember that for
me it is the 5 week summer break) and had been lamenting my doom.
However, reading about Ruskin sketching a feather or a blade of grass
in exquisite detail - or Wordsworth not needing to leave his village
to write good poetry - lifted me. I'm going to see what I can do with
a camera without leaving the confines of my garden and spend at least
10 minutes looking carefully and thinking about each shot. I may end
up with rubbish but, I may learn to 'see' a little better. I might
even try a little sketching (and there I will end up with rubbish!)
And I recommend the book for changing your ideas about the purpose of
travel - it's under the Hamish Hamilton imprint (a division of
Penguin).
And here's a New Year's poem, a fragment by Oz poet Bruce Dawe, for
all list members of whatever faith (or lack), temperament or wit.
I never knew a friend who did not leave me
the richer for the knowing, pour them on
- I wait the friends I've yet to meet who crowd
like seasons, apt, amenable, beyond
the familiar ambiguity of the hill.'
Along each vein like air-bubbles children run
and when the heart burst suddenly or descends
in swooning spiral to the lonesome ground
and the grasses with their dry blank commentary
are all the cushion one can choose
who knows but what some last
galvanic impulse will upraise the arm
or squeeze the throat to whisper while it can:
'There is nothing in life so beautiful as life...'?
Enjoy it all, whatever it is.
AndrewF
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