Edges: Where Things Occur
Part 2: Limits & the Zen Universe
Limits
The Pioneer Valley comprises the three counties through which the Connecticut River—the longest in New England—flows down Western Massachusetts while making its way from Vermont to Connecticut. Dubbed the “Pioneer Valley” by nameless travel writers a century ago to draw tourists—an invention that adds a deceptive veneer to an area suffused with 13,000 years of human history. The Pioneer Valley spreads out over a former seabed, snugged in an ancient rift valley between the Berkshire Mountains and an unnamed ridge of peaks to the east. It is in this narrow former ocean floor turned terrarium that I make nearly all of my photographs, hoping for and relying on the unexpected. For a landscape photographer working on an ocean floor turned arboretum where 13,000 years of human experience have been expunged by a name contrived by forgotten advertising men, it seems fitting that a random quote from surrealist novelist Tom Robbins provided a key for unlocking a more considered approach to photography. It is an approach that I have applied for some time and that allows me to pursue what acclaimed American photographer Ralph Gibson calls a “visual signature” and evolve the artistic outcomes I seek and the methods I use. It is an approach—an exploration—that could lead anyone to artistic discovery in expressive photography and creative engagement. As Paul Strand put it, “If the photographer is not a discoverer, then he is not an artist.”
At this point in my development as a photographic artist, entering the “realm of magic” remains aspirational. I have, however, glimpsed Robbins’ edge of edges and the distant realm of magic beyond through my purposeful engagement with those intrinsic and important links between my creativity and the processes and protocols of expressive photography. There is no doubt there are countless artists, photographers who dwell in that realm, but there seem few if any external signposts pointing the way to it. However, in his approach to his writing, Robbins offered some direction as to the state of mind conducive to achieving such engagement with form—a state of mind that would aid any artist in going beyond the mere glimpse and may even plunge them and their work deep into that realm of magic.
Zen Universe
Michael Dare, a screenwriter and movie producer, assisted Robbins with writing a screenplay, an adaptation of one of Robbins’ novels that never made it to the screen. During that period, Robbins described his writing process to Dare. In his essay How to Write Like Tom Robbins, Dare discusses that guidance in some detail. Dare explains that when Robbins
starts a novel, it works like this. First he writes a sentence. Then he rewrites it again and again, examining each word, making sure of its perfection, finely honing each phrase until it reverberates with the subtle texture of the infinite. Sometimes it takes hours. Sometimes an entire day is devoted to one sentence, which gets marked on and expanded upon in every possible direction until he is satisfied. Then, and only then, does he add a period. Next, he rereads the first sentence and starts writing a second, rewriting it again and again until it shimmers. Then, and only then, does he add a period. While working on each sentence, he has no idea what the next sentence is going to be, much less the next chapter or the end of the book. All thoughts of where he is going or where he has been are banished. Each sentence is a Zen universe unto itself, and while working on it, nothing exists but the sentence. He keeps writing in such a manner until he eventually reaches a sentence which he works on like all the others. He adds a period and the book is done. No editing or revising in any way.
Dare thought Robbins’ methodology was senseless for any writing project, declaring it “was no way to write a book, much less a screenplay.” Robbins confessed “I operate by painting myself into corners and seeing if I can get myself out.” Robbins used a Zen approach when extricating himself from those corners. And only on his terms, admitting “I try never to leave a sentence until it’s as good as I think I can make it.” If one wants to aspire to approaching and transcending “the wildest edge of edges” to gain entry into that “realm of magic,” Robbins’ approach of treating each sentence as a “Zen universe unto itself” during which “nothing exists but the sentence” seems a most suitable way to approach expressive photography and, what Thomas Joshua Cooper, among others, refers to as building an image.
Cedric Wright, photographer and mentor to Ansel Adams, declared that “[a] secret to fine results is to enjoy the most luxurious deliberations in each step of the work.” He also warned that “[t]here is a contagious contentment . . . out of which is apt to flow more of the spirit and qualities needed” to make an image. Wright concluded that “[i]deally, it should be as if on that one part of the work alone were focused the entire essence of a lifetime.” Using this approach in expressive photography can reveal for us that “edge of edges” and lead us to that place where the realm of magic may be glimpsed or, perhaps, even realized. Approaching anycreative endeavor—except perhaps writing, according to Dare—as close to this method as you are able seems one route of approaching that realm of magic. While painting oneself into a corner as a routine may well be avoided, Robbins was indeed on to something in his approach to writing. Treating each step in the photographic process like a “Zen universe” would enhance our engagement with our expanded version of form. In turn, it will be through engagement with form that we will move toward a comprehension and, ultimately, an intimacy with the boundaries that shape our efforts. It is through that engagement that we can dare to aspire to enter that realm of magic. Committing to such engagement is something that I have explored for some time, but still struggle with. The first step seems to be finding those edges of edges, wherever they may lie. As Lopate suggests, the artist must be “intrigued by their limitations, both physical and mental [because] what one doesn’t understand, or can’t do, is as good a place as any to start investigating the borders of the self.”
