West MacDonnell Ranges aglow 1 – Nikon Z5 and Nikkor 40mm F2 lens
Upon driving back to Alice Springs after a long day on the road, the sun hit the ancient earth just right, and we pulled the car over to a patch of gravel. Like a long red serpent from The Dreamtime, stretching across the land, the rocky ridges were awash in the sun’s eventide glow. The photos here really don’t do it justice. How can one encapsulate over a thousand million years of geological history? It’s a land that feels as old as Time itself.
West MacDonnell Ranges aglow 2 – Nikon Z5 and Nikkor 40mm F2 lens
In a rush to exit the car, switch on the Nikon, and frame the scene before the light faded, I was amused by my scurrying about in the shadow of those ancient red rocky giants of earth. How many people had done the very same thing – catch the red glow of sunset across the hard-edged boulders, crags, and rocky outcrops? Many millions of sunsets across that land and there I was, one small thing in the vastness, fiddling with my camera, hoping to stop time.
When the noise and dust of the day settles into quiet night, the mind turns inward. No longer are we distracted by the daily scramble. Night heralds a time when we have the opportunity to reflect on our day and ourselves.
A solitary light bulb glows dimly behind the window of a closed shop on a quiet street; leaves are rustled by a warm zephyr along a familiar laneway as distant stars shine above; during a long drive at night alone, the music on the radio synchronises perfectly with your thoughts and the world gliding by outside. Have you experienced similar scenes and feelings of melancholy, peace, serenity, deep thought, and reflection? If so, you’re likely familiar with The Night Feeling.
Crushed Ice 24 Hours – Nikon Z5
What’s The Night Feeling?
I came across a Reddit group called The Night Feeling last year. It’s dedicated to photos that encapsulate those kinds of scenes and feelings. I’d never heard it called that before, but I’ve certainly had those emotions and thoughts, especially at night. I even remember discussing this with a friend many years ago in relation to the sorts of emotions we’d sometimes experience when driving long distances alone late at night, with just the right piece of music playing in the background.
We’re usually so busy and distracted during the day that we forget how we’re feeling and who we truly are when we’re not serving others, doing our jobs, shopping, socialising, and so on. Being busy can help us endure tough times but we often forget to self-reflect and get in touch with who we are without the distraction and noise. When everything is quiet and night falls, we have an opportunity for self-reflection and thought. And there are certainly links between night and strong emotions and darker mental states. In the Mind After Midnight Hypothesis, for example, the hours between midnight and early morning are associated with disinhibition, risky behaviour, darker emotional states, poor judgement, and depression.
The end of the aurora – Nikon Z5
When the world is quiet
I associate certain kinds of scenes with the sort of calm, observational, slightly melancholic self-reflection that falls under the umbrella of The Night Feeling – walking through light rain on deserted streets that are usually busy; city lights reflected in water at night; a warm wind blowing through trees as I walk through a quiet part of town; an old machine lit up and no-one around. It’s as though the elements of nature announce themselves softly, emerging briefly through the haze of our urban environments to remind us that we need closer contact with our origins.
As nature reminds me that it’s bigger than any human-made urban environment and any trouble of my own, I feel that momentary sense of peace and calm ~ the moment that my own problems melt into the vast scale of the world and the stars beyond. In this expanded state of awareness, the small worries and quotidian tasks of daylight hours retreat and true self-reflection can occur, as one’s inner world becomes infinitely larger and more clearly focussed.
After the laundry is done – Nikon Z5 with Viltrox 20mm
Do you ever find beauty in everyday things? Seemingly mundane stuff is part of the fabric of our daily lives, existing quietly in the background. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately, especially on days when I feel as though I lack photographic inspiration. I can’t help but think that we’re sometimes looking for the big things as photographers, hoping they’ll catch the attention of online communities often engulfed by their own search for attention and validation. I’ve touched on that before too, of course.
Gaze – Sony RX100
Seeing everyday things in a fresh way that reveals their beauty isn’t a new idea. Contemplative photography and Miksang are approaches that emphasise an unpretentious photographic practice that’s mindful and completely present in the moment. The elevation of technical perfection is secondary to the experience of being in the world – of being aware of the moment completely and utterly. In this sense, it draws parellels to mindfulness and meditation, where inhabiting the moment non-judgementally is key.
Draped colours in strong sunlight – Olympus OMD EM5 Mark 2
There’s an interesting tension in this approach – maintaining a mind that’s open to details without becoming overly distracted by them.
When I inhabit the moment in photography, I pause momentarily to make a photo when a scene tugs at my attention gently enough that it doesn’t completely dislodge my middle-focus. Middle-focus occurs when attention hovers between soft and intense – when it’s non-judgemental and simply observational – when we focus on a thing without placing too much value on it or too much thought into it, and don’t allow it to draw us too close. In this state, we recognise something as being of value photographically, but our attention only skims across it – like a small boat floating lightly on clear water.
If this middle-focus state is dislodged and derailed, if the small boat sinks, the mindful journey will stop like a train pulling into the station to accept noisy passengers. This is the moment where mindfulness is thwarted and attention inhabits the distraction too fully, too intensely, and with an overburden of thought and judgement of value.
Morning delivery – Sony RX100
What defines this gentle pull at the edges of attention? What qualities in a scene are important? This is likely different for every photographer. For me, it’s important that such photos inhabit a space somewhere between details normally unnoticed and scenes that communicate meaning softly and quietly.
Lately, I’ve been exploring the idea of quiet photography: noticing the quiet corners and seeking the details. When the big moments of inspiration don’t strike, it’s important not to feel the pressure of having to make photos. But if there is the tiniest inkling of wanting to pick up the camera at such times, why not commit to the small photos of everyday moments? Isn’t it in the everyday that we find a fresh view of the world?
Fire Panel – Sony RX100
Oh, where would I be without my little Sony RX100? Small, black, and set to silent mode, I re-discovered the joys of using it last year after keeping it in a drawer for too long. When the big Nikon seems too hefty for the moment, I’m always happy to find some fresh detail with the little Sony camera. Somehow, it feels less serious and more fun than my Nikons when inspiration lacks. Of course, it can make great pictures, but then again, so can a 100 year old film box!
In my previous post, I touched on the idea that not every photo needs to be epic and impactful. Not every moment needs to be recorded. We must always remember that seeing and feeling are at the heart of photographic practice. In cultivating the eye and heeding the pull of emotion, we enable synchronicity with the environment, and in this momentary state the camera records our imaginative trajectory through the world.
Yet, sometimes the photos are small and quiet. They’re not loud or imposing at all. These are the quiet corners and the scenes forgotten in a rush. They’re just as important and they’re the details we often miss.
Empty bottles in the sun at a second-hand shop in the country – Sony RX100
In a world where we often clamour for attention, hoping for some notoriety or virality, for some interaction on social media, for the epic amplification of our voice, being loud seems to have become the default mode for many. The intense desire to be heard above the digital cacophany may signify the ongoing trend to further isolation, loneliness, and insularity but the small and quiet photo, bereft of loud intentions and sweeping announcements, is a momentary escape. This is where we connect the eye, the heart, and the imaginationto the world.
The sun was out, there was a nice breeze, and we had an entire afternoon free. A drive to Blanchetown should have provided fruitful inspiration for photographs. But it didn’t, mostly. The weather was kind, the company good, the battery charged, and the Nikon Z5 ready for anything. So, what happened? It was me…
You know those days as a photographer when things just don’t come together? There’s a disconnect between what you see and how you feel. You compose and press the shutter but the result fails to inspire you. At times like this, I do a few things:
Remove the pressure from myself by leaning into other moments. Not everything needs to be camera-worthy and not every moment needs to be recorded. Enjoy the day and put down the camera;
Take out a different camera for fun and just focus on other scenes – details, textures, shadows. There’s good stuff in the small stuff.
Peeling and rusting – Sony RX100
Finding the details again
Sometimes, it’s easy to fall into the trap of wanting every photo to make a big impact. But those magical sunsets full of great colours don’t come around too often. Those moments when the photographic mind and heart are synchronised with the wider world aren’t always available to us. At these times, it’s important to take a step back and access other areas of the photographic process: enjoying the moment, seeing the details.
Peeling and rusting 2 – RX100
Accepting fate and below average photos
Sometimes, even when we dig into another bag of tricks, the photos don’t turn out great. Over time, we develop a sense of taste and curate our photographic output, so what might please someone else won’t please us. Part of the creative journey is developing taste and deciding which photos meet our taste standards to become the ones that really make an impact.
The remaining, less than stellar, photos are still important because they’re part of the journey to get to the photos that meet a well-developed artistic taste. Some days are about honing the eye and sensibility. Not every photo is going to be a winner and that’s OK. In fact, it needs to happen, otherwise things get boring and you don’t sharpen your eye, your imagination, your taste, and your art.
In my previous post, I didn’t have a lot to say, other than to talk about the sculptures of Dale Chihuly. Turns out, I still don’t have a lot to say, so I’ll let the sculptures speak for themselves. Sometimes, we need the contemplative therapy that photography can provide.
Float Boat and Niijima Floats by Dale Chihuly, 2012 – 2019 – Nikon D40
How shiny are those polyvitro baubles? Even on a cloudy day those colours really pop. By now, I’ve resigned myself to the idea that old CCD cameras like the Nikon D40 just seem tuned to produce punchy and colourful photos, even when set to RAW.
Magenta Flowers – Nikon D40
As lovely as the sculptures are, the gardens are full of opportune moments for one with a camera. Luckily, the flowers were in bloom.
The Sun by Dale Chihuly, 2014 – Nikon D40
The Sun really exemplifies Chihuly’s installation – an explosion of powerful colours spreading dynamically in all directions.
The original sculpture,green in all directions – Nikon D40
In my previous post, I went out with the Nikon D40 and made some street photos. Even though it’s an enjoyable experience, street photography can also be tiring if not in the right frame of mind. I find that placing too much pressure on myself to make good photos can take a lot away from the experience. And out in the street where you need to be alert to interesting scenes that may last mere moments, missing one can lead to frustration.
Gathering before busking – Nikon D40
As much as that experience can lead to moments of regret at having not been quick enough on the shutter button, going down that path simply leads to more frustration and lack of joy. There are so many moments on the street that it’s always possible to find another. In simple terms: don’t get stuck in a moment missed because you’ll have just missed another moment.
Fresh milk and soft toys – Nikon D40 with Tamron 17-50 2.8
What do we do as photographers?
A photographer collaborates with the world to make a photo of a moment that never repeats. As much as there’s pressure to record all of the moments that pass so quickly, the photographer also brings the attention of others to a framed moment in time. In doing so, the photographer creates an awareness in others of the larger world we inhabit. And how often do we inhabit it without much care for the present moment?
In this context, street photography is like being in a whirlpool of moments. That’s both exciting and potentially exhausting if the pangs of regret haunt us too easily when the camera and the moment don’t quite line up. In those cases, better to accept the passing moment and move into a new moment with open eyes and mind. And have we really missed a moment if we haven’t recorded it?
Celebration and relief after a street performance – Nikon D40
In my previous post, I wrote about driving through some of the towns along the Murray River. We’ve been here many times but I’ve often found myself uninspired in the photography department, though I’m not entirely sure why. Going for a day-trip with friends is always fun, but sometimes it doesn’t lend itself to me spending time fiddling with camera settings or framing scenes! This time was different though. I found myself with the trusty Olympus E-1 again and looking for the kinds of scenes that the old digital sensor can manage more easily.
Red paint and corrugated iron – Olympus E-1
There’s no substitute for time when it comes to photography, at least for me. I’m not one who clicks a thousand photos in an hour. I prefer to be as deliberate as possible. Admittedly, using an old camera like the E-1 teaches me to slow down even more to carefully consider the scene before me. That’s a good thing, I think.
Red paint and old wood – Olympus E-1
How often is it that we don’t get to slow down and really look at the world around us? How often are we pre-occupied with thoughts of the forever-gone past or the uncertain future? How often do we steal the present moment from ourselves? Once that moment is gone, it’s gone for good.
I like to think that photography has the capacity to teach us something about the hidden details of the world that are ordinarily missed. When I first started teaching myself how to use a DSLR, I turned to a practice called Contemplative Photography, or Miksang.
On such occasions, I found myself a little more in touch with both my mind and the world, with inner and outer touching at the very boundaries, one might say. At these times, there’s no judgement of a scene, just an image pressing gently on the mind, as though it leaps out of the water like a fish to be seen momentarily. There’s no setting up or messing with technology beyond what the eye sees and the press of the button. And arguably, the camera itself is not even needed to see those hidden details in the world.
All the red envelops you in this moment – Olympus E-1
For all of the great cameras and sharp glass on the shelves, it’s liberating to play around with low-tech options sometimes. Maybe there’s a scene in front of you with great lighting but a subject that has been overdone? Maybe you’re gear-fatigued and just want to try something else? Do you know what I do when I’m a bit exhausted with tech and sharp lenses? I put something cheap in front of the camera lens to see what happens…
Dreams of green cool – Nikon Z5 with cheap plastic
The time of day was right and the leaves were catching golden light but I was weary of the same tired approach. Sharpness is a state of mind! Great photos have been made with the most primitive film boxes. So, instead of doing the usual, I pulled out a flexible piece of clear plastic and stuck it in front of the sharp Z glass. As you can see, it pulls the light in different directions when moved about. After some Split Toning, Vibrance, and a decrease in Clarity, the photo has a nice dreamy look.
Dreams of a glassy sun – Nikon Z5 with Diffusion Filter and cheap plastic
Diffusion filters are a good idea when you want some highlight blooming and a softer tone to a photo. Though the TiffenBlack Mist Pro filter tends to be the top of the price and quality pile, my feeling is that dreaminess can be found in even cheaper materials. I purchased the K&F Concept Black Diffusion filter and it does just fine.
The sun photos were both made with the Black Diffusion filter in place. There’s some nice blooming around the sun, but that’s pretty much obscured by the use of the cheap plastic I used for the photo of the trees. Details are hidden, contrast is lowered, and only bright shapes remain.
A distant sun barely warms – Nikon Z5 with Black Diffusion Filter and cheap plastic
The Rusty Ruin Journal 