Being Curious

Over the last few weeks I've been focussing on my photography in a strange, almost existential, way. But if I stand back and look at the situation with a broader perspective, it’s clear that I've been fully immersed and thoroughly engaged with activities that are far more wide-ranging than the creation of photographs alone. I've been analysing my photographic process, evaluating an array of related issues, asking questions, crafting answers and then, when I felt I’d reached a conclusion, I wrote about it all – at great length!

Moreover, I've been in a ‘state of flow’ – fully absorbed, with no sense that ‘time flies’ – challenged, enthralled and excited. And I’m minded of my childhood self, wondering whether I've changed very much from the curious little 5-year-old who eagerly skipped off to school on her first day, certain that she’d learn to read by lunchtime (everyone had told me that I’d learn to read when I went to school).

And if I’d master reading on Day 1, what greater excitements would Day 2 hold?

‘Untitled’
from my ‘Art Therapy Project’

Turning the clock back

Perhaps this childhood association can be explained by a piece I've written elsewhere on this website, and updated here:

I did my first photography course in 2008 – it was 10 weeks of remote learning with the Open University. And since then, in addition to the extensive mentoring programme with Julia Anna Gospodarou and two 4-day workshops with her, I've attended classes to learn the rudiments of drawing and to re-learn the skills of the (wet) darkroom; three 1-day workshops with photographers, another two with artists; three 10‑week online courses with the University of Oxford, (two on the History of Art and one on The Impressionists); a 10-week History of Art course with the University of Edinburgh; a 4-week course with The Hepworth Wakefield on Barbara Hepworth; done independent research into 'Photography and the Crimean War', and into the 'Social History of our Family Photographs'.

Most recently I've joined the worldwide ICM network; done a photography course with Ruth Davey, another with Rachel Wright; and a chance remark by Rachel has taken me into the world of alternative photography – particularly cyanotype printing – and thence into watercolour painting.

Have I forgotten anything?

Oh yes, at least two more 10-week online courses – one on meteorology(!) and another on psychogeography(!!) – plus four, 4-week online photography courses, one each on monochrome, macro, flowers and architecture.

In addition, I've revived my teenage interest in knots and knotting, taking up macrame – inspired by the ledger I made in the 60s (and re-found in the attic last month), full of hand-tied knots and their (seemingly) exotic names – Turk’s Head, Cow Hitch, Fisherman’s Knot – bights, bends, hitches and splices.

I've pored over 19th century maps of our locality; been absorbed by the history, geology and topography of our district; become fascinated by the individuality of our local brickwork, creating a montage of Jabeez Woolley and his Bramley Brickworks; which led me to consider the expansion of the Methodist Church in Leeds and, more widely, the charitable foundations of the Protestant Church in and around the city.

Then, every month or so, I’ve stopped what I was doing, reviewed the ‘story’ to date, and then written about it – hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of words over the last decade alone – reaching conclusions and underlining the important ‘takeaways’, the valuable lessons I've learnt along the way (both practical and emotional ones).

Now I’m sure that if a 5-year-old had rushed home from school and told you this, bubbling over with excitement and hardly pausing for breath, you’d smile with encouragement and engage with their delight. And that’s what I’m doing now – linking arms with my younger selves, remembering their passions and ambitions.

Mostly there’s a logic to the twists and turns of these online courses and activities – often it’s been to inform my photography – although some, like macrame, are wholly serendipitous. But I never stop to question whether the direction is appropriate or rational – I’m too busy running with the idea, skipping alongside my 5-year-old self.

A takeaway

So I think it’s time that I owned the fact that I’m not really a photographer, or an artist, or any other ‘label’, I’m just a little kid who never grew up. That’s my first takeaway, my lesson learnt.

I’m simply someone gifted with childlike curiosity; someone who loves learning, for the love of it, for the fun, the challenge and the stimulation; someone who loves applying this learning, exploring with it, being experimental, making new connections and taking new directions. And then, when my interest is piqued, I can run with the idea for a week, or a month or more to see where it leads. I've no need to write a 5-year career plan – I’m free to choose whether I’m embarking on a decades-long journey or whether I’m heading into a short-lived cul-de-sac.

Taken in this context, my interest in photography is easy to explain. It’s an enjoyable, rewarding, stimulating vehicle for my curiosity; a perfect mix of theory and practice; a sublime blend with its history, craft, science, art, diversity; an ideal bridge between my old world of engineering and my new opportunities in creativity and self-expression. And my website – where I record it all – is like a project scrapbook that I share with friends; it never needs to be a shop window for a commercial audience.

But this latest review has touched more than photography, subliminally it’s been addressing ‘sense of self’ and that provides a greater takeaway.

A greater takeaway

For almost 20 years – most of this century, this millennium – I've been seeking a name to replace the label of ‘engineer’ that wraps me in its invisible cloak. I've sought a name that describes and defines me – together with the sense of purpose and direction that it would carry implicitly (or which I thought it did!)

But, with a lightning bolt of clarity, I suddenly understand that I've been asking the wrong question, looking in the wrong places:

I should not define myself by an activity, but choose a quality, a positive characteristic.

It’s no longer a debate between labels such as ‘photographer’ or ‘visual artist’. I should replace ‘engineer’ with a label which defines my strongest trait, the one which tells you that I’m curious.

And with this realisation, a great weight has been lifted off my shoulders. I feel an enormous sense of relief that my quest is now complete! It means I can use my energy productively – both physically and mentally – on projects which reinforce my sense of self. And, more valuably, stop wasting time on the fruitless pursuit of names and labels.

So now, if you ask me to describe myself as a photographer or an artist, or to define my style of photography, I won’t try to pigeonhole myself or my work. Instead, with childlike excitement and enthusiasm, I’ll explain what I’m doing.

I’ll tell you that I’m currently working on a mixed-media project (combining cyanotype printing with digital photography) because I’m curious. I’m curious to know whether it can deliver therapeutic benefits – whether it might have positive, restorative properties which will help me make a better transition to a semi-able life with osteoporosis.

Wow – what a takeaway! A new sense of self, and a stronger sense of purpose and direction.

Thank you for listening.

Stay safe xxxx

P.S. If you’d like to know why I embarked on this existential examination – and see the questions that prompted it – you can read more HERE …