What makes a photograph art and who says so?

Over the weekend I went to a lecture by one of my favorite photographers. Rarely, do I attend these kinds of things except when the Palm Beach Photographic Center has their seasonal lectures over the winter months. Although, they are now located in downtown West Palm Beach with their grande opening around the corner. I can't wait for them to open so I can get a shot of culture (photography). Us lonely photographers do not necessarily lead that romantic life so many perceive. Just as the man I went to the Boca Museum to listen to. I have to plug this in premising that I have no association with the Museum at all; that said, their permanent photography collection on the 2nd floor was a wonderful surprise. A place I will return to when I want (need) to be among friends. Where looking is listening, stillness like a long exposure, and a return to self.

So, here I am in a small room with young and old listening to Clyde Butcher talk about his work, entitled, "America the Beautiful," and his overall process from capture to print. If you are new to Clyde's work, he uses large format (8x10 and larger) camera; BW negs, which he develops, and then contact prints, followed by the edited scans to the computer thru Photoshop and out. His cameras are beautiful. As a photographer, the photograph is not just the view: it is the whole process-the camera, image development, special processes, paper, inks, chemistry, enlarger, printer, matting, frames, floating.....4-ply, 8-ply...plexi or glass. To me, that is a photograph. All those pieces wrapped up in hours of sweating, frustration, redo's, and successes mixed with the authentic presence of the artist (ie. originality, individuality) equal a photograph. The artist creates and says...

And I am listening to him speak when I realized that I should be paying more attention and effort to doing my work. Clyde and Niki are models of doing their passion. My intuition needs a good kick to really incorporate the technical stuff from schooling with my vision. So, I have been defining my vision. My work, my art is because I am.

Labor Day Swamp Walk

Just as many others, I joined walkers in Ochopee to explore the Big Cypress in Clyde Butcher's backyard. Only 1% of the world visits this part of Florida. I have never seen such ancient beings towering with history and words that only few can hear. It was a typical rainy afternoon with passing clouds and thunder rumbling in the background. The walk was short and went by too quickly. I am glad I didn't bring my camera or I would have not moved after the first 15 minutes into the swamp. The water was cold with no waders. I wondered how after seeing so much of Florida's native beauty I could not be caught surprised. I was so very wrong.

Okay, I did bring a disposable point and shoot that is out for processing. I feel strange talking about film, but that is a discussion for another day. I encourage everyone to visit Clyde's gallery and walk the walk.

How do you know when you are on the right path?

Hmmm. Everyone, not only artists, have this question pop up questioning personal direction in life. I am constantly checking with myself and asking the Universe, " Are you sure I should be on this path heading somewhere still unknown?" Small signs of reassurance seem to assure my conscious mind. When I am knee deep in mucky water, oblivious to the bugs, spiders, and humidity, confidence in my path as a nature photographer are solid. I am a rock. What I already know and have yet to discover are immaterial; my half remodeled house is a distant space I forgot about; I am mindfully living, being, and aware of not only the pristine perfection of nature, but also of myself. This must be a version of enlightenment. This also must be what draws us photographers to paths requiring a new vision of sight.

Today, I am seeing only what was once negative space as positive. Challenging my eyes and the perception in my mind. A mini-workout for my brain. Do not forget that artists are always working and creating even if they appear to be still.

With that I will leave you with a quote from Clyde Butcher's biography by Tom Shroder and John Barry, Seeing the Light:

"In the Everglades there is no chaos or imperfection or mess. The entire compass flows together. Everything fits."