This little blog space has been quiet for some time now. I’ve more or less been silent here for the last year. The silence, though, is not because I haven’t been up to anything or had any thoughts to share. It is probably more because my mind has been overrun by so many thoughts that it has often felt impossible to wade through them, decide what might be worth sharing, and do so in a thoughtful and clear manner. I’d head out on a walk with the dog or with my camera and find myself in a clear and reflective space and come back home to find my brain once again overwhelmed by the noise, both literal and figurative.
That said, through the noise and haze that has felt disruptive in my mind during these months (almost years now) of the pandemic, I have also found a clarity in my vision for my photography and in the direction I want my teaching to go.
The first year of the pandemic, giving me more time at home and slower days, made me reflective on my photography and took me back to the roots of where I began. I spent more time quietly observing my local environment and I am grateful to photography for opening my eyes to beauty I am certain I would not have noticed before immersing myself in this art.
On a visit to my dad down in Hilton Head, I noticed a poem framed on a table in their hallway, one I remember reading as a child. It applies to life, but it felt very applicable to photography as well.
The Station by Robert J. Hastings
Tucked away in our subconscious is an idyllic vision. We see ourselves on a long trip that spans the continent. We are traveling by train. Out the windows we drink in the passing scene of cars on nearby highways, of children waving at a crossing, of cattle grazing on a distant hillside, of smoke pouring from a power plant, of row upon row of corn and wheat, of flatlands and valleys, of mountains and rolling hillsides, of city skylines and village halls.
But uppermost in our minds is the final destination. On a certain day at a certain hour we will pull into the station. Bands will be playing and flags waving. Once we get there so many wonderful dreams will come true, and the pieces of our lives will fit together like a completed jigsaw puzzle. How restlessly we pace the aisles, damning the minutes for loitering — waiting, waiting, waiting for the station.
“When we reach the station, that will be it!” We cry.
“When I’m 18.”
“When I buy a new 450SL Mercedes-Benz!”
“When I put the last kid through college.”
“When I have paid off the mortgage!”
“When I get a promotion.”
“When I reach the age of retirement, I shall live happily ever after!”
Sooner or later we must realize there is no station, no one place to arrive at once and for all. The true joy of life is the trip. The station is only a dream. It constantly outdistances us.
“Relish the moment” is a good motto, especially when coupled with Psalm 118:24 “This is the day which the Lord hath made; we will rejoice and be glad in it.” It isn’t the burdens of today that drive men mad. It is the regrets over yesterday and the fear of tomorrow. Regret and fear are twin thieves who rob us of today.
So stop pacing the aisles and counting the miles. Instead, climb more mountains, eat more ice cream, go barefoot more often, swim more rivers, watch more sunsets, laugh more, cry less. Life must be lived as we go along. The station will come soon enough.”
It had been awhile since I had last read that poem, but it is such a good reminder to find joy in all the small things in our everyday. And reading it during the pandemic, when so many of our big moments were cancelled - graduations, weddings, travel, birthday celebrations - felt like serendipitous timing.
It occurred to me at the time and has stuck with me since, that this idea translates so well to landscape and nature photography as well. We can get caught up in what we want to learn, capture, accomplish, or to believe we need certain gear for our photography to improve. As landscape photographers we tend to share a wanderlust for travel to beautiful and awe inspiring places. We long for “epic” views and conditions that make our jaws drop to the floor. We have bucket lists of places we long to go, those lists lengthened as we scroll our instagram feeds. I have heard photographers walk away from a stunning view disappointed as they lament the lack of an ‘epic’ sunset even while I was awed by the beauty.
Now don’t get me wrong, I love to travel to jaw dropping places and watch Mother Nature knock me over me with her magic! Those moments when I am jumping up and down and audibly saying “wow” from one minute to the next are incredible. Some of my very favorite images have come from those moments. I would liken those moments in photography to being a “station” as Robert Hastings calls the milestones and big moments in life.
Not to discount those iconic views and epic skies, but there is beauty everywhere if our eyes are open to it. I won’t lie and say I don’t still want to explore all the places on my bucket list. I do! But spending more time at home in 2020 had me pausing to take in the simpler beauty of my local surroundings. Embracing those moments has taught me to see more creatively and increased my enjoyment of where I live. My eyes are opened up to new details of beauty all the time.
I pick up my camera to capture the things that move me, that make me pause, and that bring me joy. I often still find it easier to photograph when I travel because the busy-ness of day to day life at home can make it hard. But even if I don’t click the shutter, I see beautiful ‘frames’ of nature in my mind everyday, and I pause a few moments to enjoy them. And that’s a wonderful journey to be on.
Wherever you are in your photography, and wherever you live in this world, I hope you find joy in the beauty around you everyday, and find the time to capture some of it with your camera!
Kristen Ryan is an award winning and published landscape photographer and educator residing in the Midwest suburbs of Chicago. All images are available for purchase in the Fine Art Store or by request. Kristen leads ladies landscape photography retreats in the Tetons, Glacier NP, Hilton Head, Chicago, and the Canadian Rockies, offers private mentoring . New online educational materials are coming soon!