As I spent time working on photographs recently while recovering from still another illness, I recognized a longing to say more in my photographs, to connect more deeply with my photographic subjects, to share my sense of “the full catastrophe” of life.

Last week I had the great gift of photographing a young family who were visiting a friend of mine. They are first-time parents of a beautiful 8 month old daughter, with food sensitivities. Because of that, the baby is waking up a lot at night (~hourly). As a result, both parents are exhausted. As a mother (and now grandma) of two kids who had food sensitivities and didn’t sleep through the night until they were 2 years old, I felt much empathy for this young couple. I still vividly remember the fatigue-filled heady days of new parenthood—so much love, so much to learn, so much fear of making a mistake that could harm my beautiful infant, and so, so much fatigue—”the full catastrophe,” in other words.

Seeing Through “to the heavenly invisibles”

The photograph above is one of the photographs I made of mother and baby. Because of my deep feelings of empathy for them, I believe that I was able to connect more deeply with them—the photos represent a kind of seeing through “the heavenly visibles to the heavenly invisibles.”

It has frequently been remarked, about my own writings, that I emphasize the notion of attention. This began simply enough: to see that the way the flicker flies is greatly different from the way the swallow plays in the golden air of summer. It was my pleasure to notice such things, it was a good first step. But later, watching M. when she was taking photographs, and watching her in the darkroom, and no less watching the intensity and openness with which she dealt with friends, and strangers too, taught me what real attention is about. Attention without feeling, I began to learn, is only a report. An openness — an empathy — was necessary if the attention was to matter. Such openness and empathy M. had in abundance, and gave away freely… I was in my late twenties and early thirties, and well filled with a sense of my own thoughts, my own presence. I was eager to address the world of words — to address the world with words. Then M. instilled in me this deeper level of looking and working, of seeing through the heavenly visibles to the heavenly invisibles. I think of this always when I look at her photographs, the images of vitality, hopefulness, endurance, kindness, vulnerability… We each had our separate natures; yet our ideas, our influences upon each other became a rich and abiding confluence.

                         — Mary Oliver

Note: The M. referred to in the quote above was Mary Oliver’s 40-year companion and love of her life, photographer, Mary Malone Cook.

Practicing Presence

I have spoken before about my need to become present when I photograph, and how I’ve noticed that when I photograph people when I’m not fully present that the results are always disappointing to me. Presence is more than paying attention to the present moment. There is an aspect of openness, acceptance, and empathy necessary as well. I had not fully realized before I read Mary Oliver’s words above, that need for openness and empathy as a necessary aspect of attention and presence.

Aha! Presence is not emptiness!

When I am present I bring all of my feelings and my past experience with me, but with openness, empathy, and allowing, even when it is painful to do so.

I love her words, “Attention without feeling…is only a report,” and I paraphrase them for my work as a photographer:

Photographs without feeling are only a report.

Seeing the heavenly invisibles includes seeing what Jon Kabat-Zinn calls “The Full Catastrophe” of life—the joy, sorrow, miracles, hope, pain, vulnerability, and wonder of it all.

To see the sprouting acorn within the hundred year old oak tree

To feel the presence of fairies in the woods

To experience the magic of the light and the dark dancing together in a humble kitchen

To take pleasure in the exuberance of color exploding in a garden

To sense the tender love and the sleepless nights shared by parent and child

To consider infinity when you gaze at the night sky

To share the fears and hopes of a person you see on the street

To imagine a better world into being

To connect with the life force and perfection of every plant, being, place

To be filled with wonder…

These are few of the “heavenly invisibles” I see in my work as a photographer.

May you see through the heavenly visibles into the heavenly invisibles in your life.

May you walk in beauty.