The orange table over the black one, with a two-D chair and the forced perspective of a liquid transparent right side, is water, or a stream, flowing under the whole picture. I want to go to the water, find the depth, get into the merk. I don't swim well, so having the chair and tables to reach for reduces my fear. It's all very appealing, if the water is warm...
I love how you saw this — how the reflection turned into an entire scene in your mind. That idea of the water, the tables, the chair as anchors… it’s exactly what I hope for when I share a photograph — that it invites others to step inside and find their own story.
Haha, yes — it’s a beautiful kind of curse, isn’t it? 😊 We keep seeing little worlds everywhere. Thank you, Leon, for looking so deeply — that’s exactly what makes sharing these moments worthwhile.
So true, Karin. It’s often those brief, unplanned glimpses that stay with us the longest — the ones that touch something we didn’t even know was waiting to be found.
Your eyes only see what your brain has processed. You may contemplate what you've just seen in more detail once you've made a more in-depth examination of it but I don't believe that your "eyes think first".
That’s a good point, Paul — and you’re absolutely right in the physiological sense. What I meant was more about that instant, almost pre-verbal reaction we sometimes have — before we start to analyze or label what we’re seeing. It’s not that the eyes truly “think,” but that something in us responds visually before logic or language kicks in.
That moment — when perception is still raw and emotional — is what fascinates me most in photography.
Most living beings exist in a state of perception and raw emotion. No words/thoughts. Perhaps one of the gifts of the visual and sonic arts is how it enables us to enter that older state of being in which our species long existed.
Beautifully said, Baird — I couldn’t agree more. That “older state of being” you describe feels very close to what I often chase with the camera — those wordless, instinctive reactions where seeing becomes almost like remembering. Thank you for putting it so eloquently.
I was playing "Devil's Advocate", Tomasz. I think that most photographers and those with artistic leanings are constantly looking for compositions and, subliminally, we have programmed our brains to spot them almost without conscious thought.
Exactly — that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? We all stand in front of the same world, but each of us translates it differently. That’s what keeps photography endlessly alive and personal.
That sounds wonderful, Fran — both the walk and the reason behind it. Those changing colors along the road will surely hold a special kind of meaning on this journey. Wishing you strength — and many beautiful moments of seeing along the way.
The orange table over the black one, with a two-D chair and the forced perspective of a liquid transparent right side, is water, or a stream, flowing under the whole picture. I want to go to the water, find the depth, get into the merk. I don't swim well, so having the chair and tables to reach for reduces my fear. It's all very appealing, if the water is warm...
I love how you saw this — how the reflection turned into an entire scene in your mind. That idea of the water, the tables, the chair as anchors… it’s exactly what I hope for when I share a photograph — that it invites others to step inside and find their own story.
Exactly! A photographer’s eye don’t we all suffer from it? 🤫 Thanks Thomasz for sharing your thoughts!
Haha, yes — it’s a beautiful kind of curse, isn’t it? 😊 We keep seeing little worlds everywhere. Thank you, Leon, for looking so deeply — that’s exactly what makes sharing these moments worthwhile.
Thank you, well said. Often a glimpse cuts deep into the soul and stirs a past memory, or an emotion when you are least expecting it.
So true, Karin. It’s often those brief, unplanned glimpses that stay with us the longest — the ones that touch something we didn’t even know was waiting to be found.
Agreed! And a nice thought for a Sunday morning, when there’s nothing better to do then let the eyes have it!
Your eyes only see what your brain has processed. You may contemplate what you've just seen in more detail once you've made a more in-depth examination of it but I don't believe that your "eyes think first".
That’s a good point, Paul — and you’re absolutely right in the physiological sense. What I meant was more about that instant, almost pre-verbal reaction we sometimes have — before we start to analyze or label what we’re seeing. It’s not that the eyes truly “think,” but that something in us responds visually before logic or language kicks in.
That moment — when perception is still raw and emotional — is what fascinates me most in photography.
Most living beings exist in a state of perception and raw emotion. No words/thoughts. Perhaps one of the gifts of the visual and sonic arts is how it enables us to enter that older state of being in which our species long existed.
Good reflection/writing, Tomasz. 👏
Beautifully said, Baird — I couldn’t agree more. That “older state of being” you describe feels very close to what I often chase with the camera — those wordless, instinctive reactions where seeing becomes almost like remembering. Thank you for putting it so eloquently.
I was playing "Devil's Advocate", Tomasz. I think that most photographers and those with artistic leanings are constantly looking for compositions and, subliminally, we have programmed our brains to spot them almost without conscious thought.
"And maybe that’s also why no two photographers will ever see the same scene".............that's what's matters and what makes it interesting.
Exactly — that’s the beauty of it, isn’t it? We all stand in front of the same world, but each of us translates it differently. That’s what keeps photography endlessly alive and personal.
so it's your personality that decides, not only yr gear or skills. Those are helpful but not decisive.
I’m looking forward to seeing the variety of colours down the valley road as I walk part of the 99 miles I’m doing for Brain Tumour Research.
That sounds wonderful, Fran — both the walk and the reason behind it. Those changing colors along the road will surely hold a special kind of meaning on this journey. Wishing you strength — and many beautiful moments of seeing along the way.