“Perhaps the truth depends on a walk in the woods.”
The Managing Shadows in a Mossy World series marked a sea change in how I approach subject matter. Since I’ve approached my shooting time very differently. The project, albeit forcibly, taught me the value of letting go, looking less, seeing more, and inviting the subject matter to find me. I no longer need to be circumstantially forced into this way of working; instead, it has become a process that consistently yields results and creative experiences.
The rainforests became my first fixation in the Pacific Northwest. As an East-Coast transplant, the designs, textures, and deep tones of the Hoh Forest mesmerized me. The region’s vast deserts, coastal cliffs, and glacial mountain peaks are places of inspiration and, sometimes, disconcerting lessons in size and scope. Yet, forests conjure the most introspection for me. During one walk, I found a note tied to a tree branch that said it best: “Perhaps the truth depends on a walk in the woods.”
The Hoh is three hours from where I live. I knew I’d need at least a few overnight trips to gather the images I saw in my mind’s eye and to combine them with subject matter from locations outside Olympic National Forest. However, what my mind saw and what my 120mm black-and-white film was capturing were not at all aligned. Between the harsh contrasts of streaky light and the never-ending shades of green, I found it extremely difficult to isolate subject matter and achieve the more minimal designs I envisioned.
After a few shooting sessions, I was failing miserably. With the trials, tribulations, and lack of success mounting, I was seriously doubtful and dismayed. Stubbornly, I planned one final long-weekend attempt. I began my first session, pre-dawn. It turned out I didn’t need to time sunrise, because there was no sun to speak of. By 9 a.m., the rainforest was doing what rainforests do best: raining steadily. With no signs of letting up and not wanting to spend the day in a motel room, I found a huge, fallen, hollowed-out log that I could comfortably nestle into and stay dry. And so, I did—for three hours.
I wouldn’t say I gave up, but I waved the white flag on my pre-conceived notions about the project. I stopped caring about whether I was going to make great images. I stopped imagining how I wanted the images to look. I accepted that my project idea might not work. In other words, I got out of my own way and emptied my thoughts. And then, other thoughts and feelings took their place. I began to simply enjoy being where I was. Instead of looking hard, I was seeing. The stillness helped me notice things beyond the overtly beautiful, grand, and amazing. Instead, it revealed the most subtle and poetic traits of the forest.
The rain took a break during the second half of the day. I picked up my tripod, put the gear and pack over my shoulders, and decided to wander as aimlessly as my discarded notions. Without the weight of self-expectations, I became more open to setting up the tripod based on a little gut feeling or a spark in something I saw and liked. I started creating just for me, and me alone. I was suddenly flowing in my work.
A few weeks later, with the film processed and contact sheets made, I saw some wonderful potential. I scanned the images and began producing them. A few very strong images reignited my excitement about the project. Over several more shooting sessions, I collected what would eventually become a small, niche collection. The Managing Shadows series has since garnered considerable attention and resonated with many people. I’m happy about that, and I know it’s because I photographed something I was passionate about.
One of the great debates in life is whether we have free will or are guided by a destined path. Do we exert our energy trying to fully control and conquer our goals, or do we enjoy the journey and allow ourselves to be led by it? Overall, I’ve landed in a place where I put my best foot (energy) forward, but I let go of the rigidity that comes with trying to control the outcome too much. Surrendering to subject matter, creating a space in which the subject finds you, accepting failure as part of the process (rather than as viewing it as “something gone bad,”) and creating purely for one’s joy are ideas I now keep at the forefront of my photographic work.
Each new project builds momentum from the direct experience of employing these ideas and seeing them yield results and, frankly, magical creative moments.
In a few recent gallery talks, I reminded the audience that no matter what you do, fine art, cooking, gardening, music, writing, sports, or anything else, the trick is to get out of your own way and let the act of creating, or the journey itself, take over. Ralph Maratta
Please click on images to see a different view.
Thank you Ralph.
To learn more about the work of Ralph Maratta please click on his name to visit his page.
