It is truly rare that I experience excitement and enthusiasm when reading the preface and introduction to a photo book. How come? I’m fascinated by how photographer Jon McCormack describes his approach: “I brought my camera because it had always been my way of paying closer attention. I had no particular theme or concept in mind. Instead, I gave myself a single constraint; I would focus only on this small rocky section of shoreline. I would return to the same place night after night, regardless of the weather, regardless of the light. No chasing golden hours or distant vistas — just this one quiet place, this slim patch of coast, and whatever it chose to offer.”
To just look and see — this is what this tome is all about. The more you look, the more you will get to see. What is needed is patience, to take one's time. Patterns is an invitation to contemplate things as they are; it is a welcoming antidote to our restless lifes.
Over time, Jon McCormack discovered patterns. “I found them in the folds of Archtic ice caves, in the harshness of East African salt pans, in the ripple marks left behind by a retreating California tide. I photographed snowdrifts and sandstone, heat-etched lava flows and frost-bitten moss, feathers and fossilized ferns — each a part of somer larger rhythm, some greater choreography.”
Although I do have a lot of sympathy for this view, I think Jon McCormack’s interpretation wishful thinking that tells me more about him than about the way things are. “Beneath the surface of what we see lies structure, repetitition, and intelligence — proof that the world is not just alive but speaking.” Differently put: I do not doubt the underlying structure, I doubt the speaking. Moreover, that he believes that the places revealed themselves, and that the details “waited patiently for my attention”, I consider pretty far-fetched — for they are there for anybody who decides to pay attention.
Many years ago, in Southern Thailand, in the coastal town of Prachuap Khiri Khan, I met a middle-aged Thai man who turned out to be teaching geography at Chulalongkorn University in Bangkok. During recent studies, he explained, he discovered evidence that indicated that the history of Thailand had to be re-written. Aerial photographs had shown that what had been thought of having been dirt roads had actually been rivers. It is about patterns, he elaborated, and patterns can only be seen from a distance.
Ever since this encounter, patterns rather often come to mind. I do however, as much as I can, refrain from interpreting them; to observe them is enough.
Jon McCormick however does interpret. “In time, I came to believe that these patterns are not incidental. They are not just beautiful accidents of aesthetic coincidences; they are the language of the Earth — clues to the invisible systems and forces that shape everything from a snail shell to a supernova.”
While this very well may be so, it remains a belief. And, like every belief, reveals more about the believer than about the things believed.
My view is different; I very much warm to Philip K. Dick’s definition of reality which he described as “that which, when you stop believing in it, doesn’t go away.” Differently put: The desire for meaning that photographer and authors express again and again exists only in the human imagination.
“For a photographer, this gesture — the slowing down, the magnification of wonder — is at the heart of the craft. The camera, after all, is not merely a tool for documentation, it is an instrument of awareness.” Well, it can be both, of course.
The camera can serve as spiritual inspiration. This is how I experience it. And, this is what this tome impressively demonstrates. “The private recognition through the lens becomes a shared invitation: look closer, linger.” Wonderful!
There are also several, very short, well-written essays in this tome with such useful maxims as “Wonder increases as speed decreases” (David George Haskell), and “To truly see the planet is to recognize its fragility — and its resilience.” (Sylvia Earle).
The photographs in this tome are stunning, awe-inspiring — a revelation. Also, they make me aware of structures that I so far haven’t perceived as such; they make me discover connections that I haven’t registered as such; they make me once again marvel at the beauty of planet earth.
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