Present Meditations
I have spent many mornings visiting this farm in Rehoboth, Massachusetts, waking up before dawn each time so that I may catch the first rays of light coming over the treetops. In making photographs of this land I’ve returned to the reasons I first picked up a camera, and discovered an anchor for myself in the often chaotic world we live in.
My photographic practice is a meditative one, the slow nature of the large format cameras I use is what made me love this medium. I have struggled on and off with severe anxiety and depression for most of my adult life, and without photography I would not be doing nearly as well as I am. Photographs have given me a language to speak about my struggles, and I’ve found a sense of belonging in the creative communities I work in, but in addition to all that, the camera itself has become a tool through which I am able to process my experiences. It feels odd to give so much credit to the simple box that is my camera, but I am sincere in my belief that the way this box allows me to interact with the world has been a game changer. As I don the dark cloth, stresses of the world outside disappear, and I can focus on the here and now. Focused on the frame in front of me, I can sit with my subject as the light shifts around us. In the time between setting up the camera and pressing the shutter release, I’m able to sit with the landscape as I wait for all its elements to come together. I allow myself to exist without worrying about what comes next, and appreciate where I am.
In our modern world where almost everything is digital and instantaneous, there is pressure from society to be constantly working towards whatever comes next. Growing up I was instilled with the drive to get good grades so I could get a good degree, so I could get a well paying job, so I could buy a house and save enough to retire, and that’s what I see many people doing. But what’s the point of all that? I believe that anchoring myself in a future which hasn’t come yet is one of the habits which my mental health troubles stemmed from.
On the farm I’m reminded that the traditional path we are directed towards is just one of many options. The woman who owns this farm didn’t grow up farming, but chose the path of raising dairy goats and other animals instead of the nine to five jobs most people go into, and I admire that. I also see my photographic process mirrored in the craft of the people who live and work here. The world around the farm cannot be ignored, but the cycles which used to define time are more apparent on its premises. Life is in all stages, from a new litter of goat kids I hear bleating as they demand food, to the old skulls which I see decorating the compost pit. One morning, the crunch of grass under my boots signaled the arrival of the first hard frost. These moments remind me to enjoy the present, and have been a refuge for me this past autumn. Rather than working towards the next thing, bigger and better than the last, these pastures and ponds remind me to look around and find peace in where I am.