Egads, a Minor White Article Part One
Sorry, but I don't know the book source of the Minor White article "Silence of Seeing". I photocopied the article some time ago. It's only reference is: SILENCE OF SEEING
Minor White
Professor of Photography
Massachusetts Institute of Technology
The pages are numbered 170 thru 173.
Since, it was such a treat for me to read and consider this work, I'll retype it for you.
On a personal note, he comes close to being a photographic hero.
Here is the article in its entirety. I claim responsibility for all the typos!
The silence of seeing formulated in these pages has a contemplative-experimental basis. So with a pun in mind, if still photography represents a silence of seeing then it could be practiced in cinema, television, still photography, or any other form of optically originated images. Silence of seeing may be applied to the totality of photography: its photographers, its camera work, its audiences, its critics.
here the formulation and application of silence is restricted to camera work becaue that small segment of photography centers around creativity. The present formulation differs from that given and encouraged bu Alfred Stieglitz. Steiglitz thought of camera work as the "art of" because it aspired higher. Compared with a church spire in a village, it stands higher than necessary. He favored art and "I" consciousness. I prefer this formulation: a camera is employed and work necessary to use photography for intensified consciousness. Possibly we each mean something beyond either art or consciousness.
The present writing was also done in a state of heightened silence. Hence writing in the first person seems the more appropriate. The word "I" will be used as a child says it unaware of self; also as an old man says "I" who constantly remembers how young he is compared with the universe. Speaking thus my experiences may be generalized in relation to myself without implying universality. I write for the plesure of those who will recognize the experience in themselves. For such people "I" will mean collectivity instead of uniqueness or aloneness.
To experience anything in the here-and-now I usually have to shut out multimedia dreams and thoughts twittering like cuckoos at dawn. Such a noise! Si it seems logical to locate a way of silence before attempting to experience a photograph, or the subject of one I am about to photograph. In the search for a way of quieting the twittering machine, meditation was encountered; so was the WZen way of just sitting. Ultimately I found that a self-induced quietness was best for me. That way allows all my scattered parts to reassemble. I become present. Sometimes I think I center in the Solar Plexus, at other times I cannot locate any special area. Wherrever located, once felt I can give all my attentionto the photograph at hand, or to the subject I am about to take a silver tracing of.
I feel doubtful of my attempts to describe induction of stillness for the purposes of camera work. There is an object, for example an ice crystal, or its silver image on the other side of my stillness. That condition satisfies part of the definitionof the word "contemplation" - the object part. But few of the objects of my attention are sacred, as the full formulartion requires. Christ and biddha figures are scarce, handwriting on the wall is a little more plentiful (graffiti). Unless, of course, I make subjects sacred by the quality of my consentration.
In various experiments with stillness I went so far as to play that I was a member of photographer Anyone's audience of viewers. I looked at his pictures in my silence and my stillness. I saw more - deeply and sooner. My experiences of his image was intensified, became a journey. It did not become a psychedelic trip because of the nature of his image. That was enacted on a stage of war. The inner journey through an emotional ambience led to a sense of injustice. That journey over, I spent someenjoyment analyzing the photodynamics; you know, how this line meets that one in a smash, how this form constricts the space behind it. In this photo all of the subtle and obvious pleasures of visual tactility and structure led to a powerful sense of the inevitability of war. By way of association the main thesis of the Bhagavad Gita entered: inevitability without injustice. That was my final understanding of Anyone's image.
Seeing in silence ordinarily leads to an understanding , which in turn closes the event of seeing in a satisfying way. The journey through Anyone's picture was neither comfortable nor pleasant-nor the understanding cause a welcome relief-nor the closure in any way aesthetic. The satisfaction was one of revelation surfacing in consciousness.
At another time a different relation may dominate between Anyone, his image and me. If my understanding of his image is not the same as Anyone's, I do not protest to him, or contradict him because his experience is different than mine. On the contrary I cherish his experience because it may give me a glimpse of an unfamiliar Anyone. I may like that part of him. Whenever I hear a man object to another man's response to the same photograph I get the shudders. They are both right and, when honest, beautiful. Whenever they treat honest experience as contradictions the barriers rise higher than ever between them. And blindness is heard as the sound of seeing.
By means of people's responses and reactions to photographs, I have met many stranger and wonderful, peculiar and haunting, angels and demons in my friends and my strangers. Sometimes in the process of cherishing my responses I find that strangers are friends- and friends enemies in disguise. Seeing in silence leans me over a high cliff onto a different view of the commonplace. Through the Looking Glass, through the camera, through perception, through vision to what's behind! I only wish I could make such vision occur more often and last longer. So I induce this kind of silence in myself frequently. I also take those moments when it happens spontaneously as evidence of grace.
Along about the middle of my life I came upon quiet and stillness as a preparation for seeing. Before that I went as seeing negatively, that is criticizing before I even had a chance to know the photograph. In that turbulent way I acquired a certain taste by which to measure excellence. That measure was a blend of many sides - book devouring, gallery hopping, personal biases, prejudice, lying to myself, and imposing a grid of assumptions instead of waiting until a photograph, or subject about to be photographed, spoke to me. Half of all this raucous activity was useful; to this day I am not sure which half. Since I assumed that a measurement for excellence was required I had to go through all the uproar to devise a yardstick. The building part of it was useful. The error was in unconsciously coming to believe the measurement, which I accidentally called "Spirit," was an absolute, or close to that. At the same time something like seeing was deflating my confidence, and making me think that I did not know one iota of what Spirit meant.
Then I discovered how to be quiet with myself before photographing anything. Seeing in stillness stripped of all baggage, I began to find such deeper experiencing as left no need to criticize. Ny experiences were more rewarding when I did not apply any standard of quality. When I neglected to judge, vision was richer. Thus for several years I sought experiences at the expense of criticism.
During these joyful years of growth as a beholder, I became convinced that it really does cost creative effort to give words to journeys through photographs. If I described the experience, the recital would be a minus-feeling travelogue. It was not criticism that was missing but something real out of my deeper self. So I sought to give more of myself. Had I been a painter I would probably have invented drawings or sketches of the exxence feeling of my journey. Or if a dancer, I would have improvised choreography. Being wordy I tried to create a written poetic equivalent of the exxence of my experience. I hoped to create something that would be a special kind of mirror, so if the photographer looked into it, he would see a hank of myself and a bone of himself in mutual understanding. I wanted to give back some of the energy that his image stirred in me.
Poems do not always come out to order, or on time. Speechlesswould resort to expressive silence, eye contact, a handshake, or an embrace. Imagine my delight when a friend, somewhat self-consciously, communicated his response to my photograph by describing his experience with his hands on my bare back. I was suprised by the forcefulness of the communication. And grateful, very grateful to learn how far an image out of my camera had moved him.
I had felt all along that the simultaneous meeting of picture, photographer, and beholder was and is a rare opportunity. But all previous encounters had been fearful. And strangely enough fearful of love surfacing in an embarrasing way. With his hands on my back, our private psychological hours synchronized, a moment of recognition flared. We recognized the energy of the genitals and watched it take the direction of respect and wonder. We stood in awe of the radiance encountered. Of evaluation there was none, unless a moment of being together exceeds all judgments of unions. An experience as full and open as the flight of swallows in the circle encompassing friend, photograph, and maker urge me to wish the same for all people.