Yesterday I visited a dear uncle of mine, whom now has vascular dementia. I found I connected with him about my travels. I remembered that he spent many summers traveling around Europe with his wife and girls, so I mentioned several places to see which ones would spark a reaction in him. Switzerland seemed to be the country that really sparked memories for my uncle. And when I mentioned the Matterhorn, he became even more present with me.
So tonight I dug out my few images of the Matterhorn that I made back in 2012. I thought I might print one for him as a present.
Looking at the image above, I remember how amazing the morning was that my friend and I illegally camped at the top of a mountain to get this view at sunrise. We were convinced we had the location to ourselves only to discover we were not the only ones there: we heard some Japanese tourists walk past our tents around 3am!
Looking at this image tonight, I am struck by the realisation that I really would struggle to pull off an image like this one now. I’m not the same person any more.
There is this belief I think, that progress is a one way street (improvement only). But that it simply not the case. Each time we gain some advancement in our photographic skills, we also lose something of ourselves.
When one gains, one also loses something about themselves. We are changed.
What we may assume as immaturity of our style at the time of creation may, many years later, be seen as something beautiful that we nolonger do. I am acutely aware there are things about my earlier work that I think are beautiful now, that maybe I did not accept or acknowledge at the time. Time has passed, and so to, have my abilities to create what I once did.
I think this is similar to looking at old photographs of ourselves. We are reminded of who we were, our immaturities, and also, of the innocence attached to our younger selves. The life of an artist is similar: we all have an artistic childhood, an artistic adolescence, and also an artistic adulthood.
As in life, so too in photography.
This perhaps touches upon the realisation that change is the only thing that is guaranteed. Everything we know is transient. This includes our creative abilities. They fluctuate, are fluid and are constantly changing. What we create now, is more a record of who we were at that time. A marker of where we were artistically.
One should always embrace their past, accept who they were, and also realise that no matter how much they’ve learned along the way, we are, and always will be children in our creative hearts.