David
Member
In the subjective world to which we are all life-long captives I am reminded of Monor White's notion that we should prepare ourselves for viewing a photograph. He did this by a time for meditation perhaps to clear the detrius from his perceptions in order to see with clearer 'eyes'. The point being that so much of our appreciation depends on our state of being, not just in the moment of viewing, but in the many moments that accumulate into our overall experience of understanding and ability to appreciate what someone else has done.
Of course, when another photographer brings something to us we can assume (sometimes incorrectly) that there was thought, feeling, experience, skill that went into their image. But our viewing experience is only tangential to theirs and we come away with something quite different than they intended - every time!. Boehme said of literature that a book was like a picnic, the writer brings the words and the reader the meaning. In that nebulous ground where the reader and writer (the photographer and viewer) overlap we by default interpret along many of the lines mentioned in this long thread. Some of those lines are technical and some are emotive, others conceptual, etc. In the end the writer's story (or photograph) matters, but not exclusively. The readers (viewers) experience matters but not exclusively. If I only went away from a book thinking that the writer had been a technical wiz, that would be OK.
There is more than one way to be in the world and the world is big enough to hold us all. The point is we are all enriched in different ways, sometimes technical, sometimes viscerally by what we encounter.
On those rare occassions where it all comes together (technical sophistication/mastery, meaning, beauty, our inner ability to openly experience and integrate an 'other') something amazing happens. The amazing thing can rarely be repeated and if it is it will be different in the way and means by which the impact happens.
So, why, I might ask, does there need to be a dichotomy between technical and aesthetic appreciation. That they both exist does not mean antithesis or even polarity. Accepting paradox means that both can be equally true at the same time even if they conflict. The joy is we can banter about both but thte greater joy is to integrate them. That is not esy.
Of course, when another photographer brings something to us we can assume (sometimes incorrectly) that there was thought, feeling, experience, skill that went into their image. But our viewing experience is only tangential to theirs and we come away with something quite different than they intended - every time!. Boehme said of literature that a book was like a picnic, the writer brings the words and the reader the meaning. In that nebulous ground where the reader and writer (the photographer and viewer) overlap we by default interpret along many of the lines mentioned in this long thread. Some of those lines are technical and some are emotive, others conceptual, etc. In the end the writer's story (or photograph) matters, but not exclusively. The readers (viewers) experience matters but not exclusively. If I only went away from a book thinking that the writer had been a technical wiz, that would be OK.
There is more than one way to be in the world and the world is big enough to hold us all. The point is we are all enriched in different ways, sometimes technical, sometimes viscerally by what we encounter.
On those rare occassions where it all comes together (technical sophistication/mastery, meaning, beauty, our inner ability to openly experience and integrate an 'other') something amazing happens. The amazing thing can rarely be repeated and if it is it will be different in the way and means by which the impact happens.
So, why, I might ask, does there need to be a dichotomy between technical and aesthetic appreciation. That they both exist does not mean antithesis or even polarity. Accepting paradox means that both can be equally true at the same time even if they conflict. The joy is we can banter about both but thte greater joy is to integrate them. That is not esy.