Spring Cycle

Yielding, flowing, gradually building...

I think a lot about the seasons- both the external and internal ones. The former, the movements of the Earth around the sun, the latter that of internal states and stages and cycles in life. I often think about these as I walk my dog at night, observing the external seasons play against the ever present backdrop of my neighborhood and observe how often those correspond with their internal counterparts. Winter is ever often the nadir, summer the zenith. Spring and autumn play the role of transitional passages.

Last year my “inner summer” lasted from around Memorial to mid-autumn. I felt I had my mojo intact, my inspiration high, my hit rate reasonable, professional and artistic breakthroughs seemingly imminent. Then as winter approached these things seemed to fall out of reach. I initially chalked this up to the usual winter cycle- but then I came to understand what was happening this time around was something a little deeper and intractable: burn out. I kept meaning to lift a finger, to get back on the saddle, but for the most part it was that flu-y feeling of not being able to kick your ass out of bed no matter how many times you scream at yourself. Hello inner winter.

In trying to remedy this, I found myself gravitating towards Taoist philosophy and especially the tenant of Wu-Wei, very simplistically put the idea of moving effortlessly with the flow of the universe/natural world as opposed to struggling against it (and inevitably failing). Chicken soup for the burnt out soul. Taoism happens to be very applicable to the photography practice by the way, something I’ll expand on in another piece. This lead to a fascination with the I Ching, an ancient Chinese book of divination, wisdom and philosophy. The very basics of it is via tossing coins or throwing yarrow sticks, you receive one of 64 hexagrams corresponding to a judgement, portent, wisdom or advice relevant to your situation. Whether or not metaphysics are truly involved or if the call is coming from within the subconscious house, I have often found my readings both resonated with reality and advised sagely as I made passage through the Spring and thus for our purposes here, make for a rather poetic framing device.

On my first reading of the season I got hexagram 24- Fu/Return “A time of darkness has come to a close” The image is that of light slowly returning and increasing, the days becoming longer, both in nature and in ones self. Hell yeah, this is what I wanted to read...onwards and upwards! It also happened to track beautifully with the onset of spring. However a caution: “let things develop naturally in their own way...to act forcefully or ambitiously now will only generate misfortune”. This is reflected in the second hexagram in this reading, hexagram 2- K’un/The Receptive: “bear with things as the Earth bears with us: by yielding, accepting and nourishing”. I would see 2 a lot going forward (to my chagrin). As the spring proceeded, a frustrating tension would arise- my desire to pick up where I left off and charge forward coming up against a reality that demanded patience, pacing and humility. As it would turn out, the damn book was telling me right.

I would shoot things that in prior years yielded at least something reasonable enough to throw at the old IG: the comic convention, the kite festival, the cherry blossoms, the chihuahua races or even just the classic dramatically lit street corner against a nice frame. I kept finding myself striking out and retuning home empty handed as if I contracted some photographic form of Stephen Blass disease. A degree of this is natural coming out of winter, but this deep into spring meant something was off. It seemed my mojo was on extended leave.
I tried to work out the mechanics of it, figure out where the wires were disconnected.

I turned to the I Ching again to see if it had any advice on my photographic predicament. I was once again given 24 and 2. The same as before. But there was a new hexagram as well: 29- K’an/the Abysmal. Much like the Tower or Death in Tarot, this one seems a pretty shit and ominous one to get at first glance. This one advises how to move through difficult situations: flow through it like water, as a river moves through the terrain as it is rather than fighting it.

So where was the difficulty? Looking at a lot of my pictures from this time I was reminded of the famous Capa quote: “If your pictures aren’t good enough it’s because you’re not close enough.” Indeed I was seeing shots where subjects were too distant, off to the side or inconsequential in frames of timid and lazy un-composition. The problem I realized was that I was not being assertive enough. I do not mean aggressive. I mean assertive as in getting the mind-body axis to align, thrust forward and engage with the moment in such a way as to execute a successful Photograph. In the zone. Wu-wei. Many of my best shoots have come from being in such a state- it is a matter of overriding your nervous system, anxiety and comfort zones. It is a lesson I had to re-learn for the millionth time- ever the eternal struggle for the street photographer.

Proving grounds were soon provided. A friend strongly implored me to go shoot a clandestine punk show at an abandoned military facility that very night. My Gut said “eh maybe not...you have to work early the next morning after all and oh isn’t this rather out of the blue?” as it constricted, contracted and churned away in its comfort zone loving way. But The Voice, emanating from somewhere in the recesses of my consciousness said “This is what you’ve been looking for. You need to go to this show. Fuck the Gut.” I mention this internal dialogue because it illustrates the dynamic in mentioned in the previous paragraph. The Voice here is trying to override the nervous system/anxiety/comfort zones aka The Gut. And this dynamic plays out in micro-moments when in the act of photographing.

In this case I listened to The Voice over The Gut. I was rewarded with fun, raw, intimate show that brought me back 20 years, and despite the technical challenge of shooting in the dark, I got photos that more closely resembled the ones I want to come home with.

A couple of days later in DC, as the sky broke out into a mighty rain, Prom kids crowded inside the Lincoln Memorial in a flurry of tuxedos, sparkly dresses, bouquets and cigar smoke. Photographic gold. However it was hard not to feel hesitant initially given the age range, The Gut warning me of the possibility of catching the ire of one of the chaperones or shooting the wrong kid and being condemned as a creep. The Voice however said: “Do it or wallow in regret”. I took a shot here, I took a shot there, testing the waters. I was finding one of two things: the kids either didn’t care I was shooting them or they relished it, many posing and having me promise to send them the pics.

I got close, I got in the zone. I came out of it feeling like I was a hairs breath away from a really good picture, but I was happy enough with the set I got. In both of these cases there was the oft-forgotten factor of content that stimulated and suited who I am as a photographer and most of all that overriding of instincts and socialization that evolve to protect in general situations but poorly serve and hobble the photographer. Once divested of that barrier, that tension between The Gut and The Voice, you find yourself in the river and from there, you can flow.

I hadn’t quite transitioned into “photographic summer” but I felt a little closer now. The final leg of spring was still filled with much of the same frustrations though by this time I could feel things were moving in the right direction. Towards the end of May, I decided to once again consult the I Ching: “What lessons for my photography from this past spring should I take into the summer?” This time I got hexagrams 17- Sui/Following and 53- Jian/Building Gradually.
The titles themselves are enough to imply the lesson, but with 53 there is an image I quite like: a tree growing on top of a mountain- were it to grow too fast before establishing its roots, it would be blown away. A patient slower growth however allows it to conquer the summit.
Patiently following and adapting to the flow of things without forcing outcomes brings reward.
I could think of few other ways to encapsulate what the season had been trying to teach me.

I had spent much of the spring with an underlying sense of frustration and impatience for a speedy recovery from burnout and a return of some sense of momentum. In other words, I wanted spring to be summer. The season was trying to teach me something else. It is a season of volatile transition as that jealous god winter stages its coups and January 6’s. But through patient steps forward and back, the days inexorably lengthen and the delicate shoots and blossoms early spring become the deep green of summer. The inner season must always follow thus- the trick is to get the conscious mind, the ego, to recognize and accept this.

On the last day of May, my brother and I took a road trip to West Virginia, something I will expand on in another writing. It wasn’t some earth shattering career or artistic breakthrough but rather a basic reminder and understanding of what photography’s fundamental appeal has always been to me- a means of outward curiosity and engagement with the world.

Was this the arrival of summer? Maybe…
Either way, I could feel a small shift, an unblocking of energy. The spring cycle felt as if it just might have completed itself.