Curiosity and Observation
Beauty on My Doorstep (III)
When I first started photography in the 70s and again when I restarted digitally in 2008, I set about learning camera technique; then composition and presentation; then different photographic genres; then the ways in which emotions and feelings can be woven through an image. I tried it all, practiced it all; I created individual images (like the one alongside) – images of impact, consequence and moment; I put in my 10,000 hours; I became experimental and increasingly interested in Fine Art; I lived and breathed photography.
But Ruth’s approach was markedly different from the methods of this decades-long pattern – it felt extraordinary, unexpected and magical. She started with childlike curiosity and observation, not with photographic ideas.
So, I began by walking round the local streets following her advice to be inquisitive – looking for colours or textures, contrasts and opposites, man-made items or natural ones – and I found an absorbing, enaging mini-world, which I'd never noticed in all the years we'd lived here. I didn't mind that lockdown was preventing us from visiting our favourite places (such as York Minster and Fountains Abbey); instead, I revelled in the small-wonders of our locality, seeing it with fresh, excited eyes
I started creating composite images – like the ones you can see on this page. Their individual elements are typically my quiet and unassuming observations but, collectively, they provide an exquisite, delicate record of my mini-outings, my mini-adventures.
Subsequently, I discovered that these composite-images could tell a story, or ‘chase butterflies’ or battle demons; and that this modest change to my photographic practice was improving my wellbeing significantly. Later I realised that it's just as engaging and rewarding to be curious and observant without a camera in my hand – and it's just as beneficial to my wellbeing. But, to begin with, I simply revelled in finding so much beauty on my doorstep, and in the fresh, simple and spontaneous way I could share it with you.
Beauty on My Doorstep (IV)