Friday, April 18, 2014

Seeing Bark as Cosmic Fabric



Bark Veil ©Lynne Buchanan
A Spirit Rekindled

Many thanks to Dewitt Jones for challenging me to take my photography to a new level and motivating me to introduce a personal element to my work without losing sight of my connection to the world.  It is a balancing act for sure.  My photography evolved out of my yoga practice and was a record of the openness I felt to the flow of life.  Though my conscious mind has been involved in that taking perfect exposures requires skill and technical awareness, the mental aspects of my work have always been secondary to the deep connection I felt with the universe on a more unconscious level.

Ever since I did the exhibition for the South Florida Museum on “The Rivers of Florida,” my work has been heavily influenced by a service-oriented commitment to help the planet by expressing the beauty of life through my photography, so people will see the value in nature, be healed by it, and work to preserve it.  Sometimes, I photograph the devastation as well, to bring people’s awareness to that.  Either way, my approach has involved humility and letting go to see what speaks to me.  Often I have felt like a channel for what was “wanting to happen,” as Rikki Cooke kept talking about all week on Molokai.  My photographs seem to take themselves. Appreciation for my subjects over personal recognition has always been my goal.  In the forefront of my mind is the desire not to be an unwelcome intrusion.  I never signed my photographs until recently, and I still only sign the backs.  Without nature, there would have been no images, and I did not want to detract from Her.  Some people told me this was a radical and probably not very good marketing strategy, so I tried to sign a few images on the front but it just felt wrong.

When Dewitt asked me to go out and make images that meant something to me in the most personal sense, beyond my selfless calling, I was petrified.  His request seemed to open the door to let the ego in and I know it often leads me down the wrong path in other areas of my life, so I did not know what would happen with my art.  Yet, Dewitt is very wise and incredibly creative and I connect with a deep spiritual dimension in his work, so I opened to the possibility that something new might happen on Molokai.  For the first few days, I photographed the way I have always done–opening to the beauty there, noticing both the grand landscape and small details that touched my heart and seemed worthy of celebration.  I kept wondering when this new vision would appear, but I knew I couldn’t force it.  I began to sense that it would have to have something to do with my largest Self, my guidance, and the voice I try to hear beneath all the chatter.  This Self includes both my ego and day-to-day personality, but it also taps into the unlimited possibilities for creativity and awakening that are contained within the collective unconscious.

Invitation © Lynne Buchanan

Then one day it happened in the palm grove.  I heard and answered the call in a fully present state.  No longer did I worry about being an unwelcome interruption.  I was in fact essential for the magic of creation to occur and it meant something profound on every level of my being.  Theresa Airey made an incredible photograph with light shining down on me the moment this change within occurred.   Studying the bark of the palm trees, I suddenly realized it was a gateway to the world beyond. As I wandered from tree to tree, I discovered portals to something much greater in seemingly inconsequential bark patterns, or in bark that was peeling off, or in old bark on the ground.  What was so wonderful about this experience is that though it took me to isolate these patterns in a way that evoked their greater significance, it was not my head that was doing this.  I was being invited into the mystery of life by a force much larger than myself and my whole being was being summoned.  It was deeply personal without being egocentric, the exact mix I was hoping for.


Falling Away ©Lynne Buchanan

Bark may not be so spiritually meaningful for everyone, although perhaps others will connect with the emotional chords it strikes in me when they view these photographs.  Photographing bark was the way my being found to enter the spirit world.  Others will find their own doorways or textures.   Dewitt was right.  Only through very individual, personal creative acts can the more universal aspects of spirit truly be expressed and revealed.   It is often through analyzing and responding to the most detailed intricacies of woven existence that the entire fabric of being can be comprehended in its wholeness and unity and the invisible becomes manifest.  Perhaps this is another reason bark spoke to me so deeply.  It really did appear to me as scraps of cosmic material. 

Textures ©Lynne Buchanan

As I delved deeper into the creative process in the palm grove, I was reminded of Ludmila Pawlowska’s paintings.  Ludmila is a Swedish artist who incorporates icons into abstract works.  Many have veils in them and/or layered textures that suggest veils.  One I was particularly moved by was entitled “Revelation of an Invisible World.” As I penetrated the bark with all my senses, it dawned on me that investigating the physical properties of unique living things on a microcosmic level from the perspective of my whole being was helping me connect with the unseen.   Just as we can peel away the facades of our being that are artificially constructed by society, our families, or our roles in the world, so too can we peel away the physical layer by layer until we get past our preconceived expectations of what is there to the hidden mystery of what is hiding deep inside which in essence cannot be contained.

Peeling Layers ©Lynne Buchanan

Exploring the bark from this spiritual perspective revealed to me that this mystery we seek to connect with is simultaneously ever changing and always constant.  It can never be fully captured through photographs or any other art form or scientific discovery.  In a sense, we are locked into our bodies and the limitations of embodied consciousness.  Yet, the process of creativity at its most deeply personal level is the best way I have found to begin to unlock these doors, so I can catch a glimpse of other dimensions and shadows of the world beyond. 

Bondage ©Lynne Buchanan

With deep gratitude to everyone at the Hui Ho’Olana for sharing your gifts and inspiration–especially to Karen Daspit for sharing your love of palms and your amazing creative techniques.  What a fabulous week!

Thursday, April 17, 2014

Lost and Found

Sunset Reflections, Tuscawilla Lake ©Lynne Buchanan


On the eve of the eclipse at the edge of Tuscawilla Lake as I stood watching the sun set and the moon rise, a bittersweet feeling came over me.  The reds, pinks, and mauves in the water, from the sunset’s reflections, and the purple spiderwort at the water’s edge were lovely.  The lake and air were so still there wasn’t a ripple to be seen.  It made me want to hold my breath.  Yet, all around the bullfrogs and alligators were calling loudly, bespeaking a nervous energy that was no doubt amplified by the phase of the moon. 

As I allowed myself to be fully in the moment, listening to the croaking calls and raucous echoes, feeling wisps of cool damp air touch my skin, allowing my gaze to be drawn to the sumptuous visual display around me, I felt the beauty of the promised land, which can be here now when we let go of all the chatter in our brains–the stories we tell ourselves of lost loves and disappointments, the logistical nightmares we sometimes face, the shoulds and have tos we feel compelled to undertake to keep the infrastructures of our lives functioning smoothly.   I promised myself as long as I am still breathing and there is beauty in this world, I will keep showing up to witness and celebrate it.  Then, as the sky began to darken and the moon began to rise, the mosquitoes also began to land.  The creatures around me announced the encroaching darkness with more urgency and their calls crept into my own soul and forced me to look within at what is hiding in the shadows.  The specter of loneliness that is always there hovering outside the frame of the perfect photo of my life.

Moonrise on the Eve of the Eclipse ©Lynne Buchanan

Boundless love without attachment is the goal and the challenge.  Loving more as we let go.  As hard as it sounds to do this, I know it is the only way.  Holding on is like trying to capture a shooting star and trap it in a jar–it's essence would be extinguished the moment it is caught.  Harboring resentment and letting disappointment harden inside, whether from a failed dream or lost love, will rob me of my own agency.   I would rather open to the joy that comes from watching light work its magic on the waves and rocks of the shore I call home, whether it is in my physical home in Micanopy or my spiritual home on Molokai.  

Molokai Sunset ©Lynne Buchanan

As I walk through the dark night and back into the light, all I can do is love more, especially in the face of broken promises.  There is no truth except love, and my words will be false unless I can love myself first.   When I accept this, the universe seems to magically pour in just what I need and her waters sustain me...
Self-Portrait at the Hui Ho'Olana ©Lynne Buchanan


Friday, April 4, 2014

The Sensuous, Mysterious Beauty of the Hillsborough River

Hillsborough River Rapids During Rainy Spring ©Lynne Buchanan

Hillsborough River Vista ©Lynne Buchanan
The weather in Florida has been wetter than usual.  A lake near my house in North Florida that was dry last year, was over 12 feet deep in places recently.  There is a small lake on my own property that wasn't there when I bought the house, and I receive daily flood alerts for the Santa Fe River.  From time to time, I have gotten a little worried, especially after the mold outbreak that occurred when the rains stopped and the temperatures warmed.  I wonder if this spring was yet another example of severe weather brought about by climate change.  One night I woke up from the heavy rains and wished I had an ark. Yet, the region has been in a prolonged drought, so once the water is absorbed it will be welcome here.  It is just that the earth can't absorb it quickly enough.

In the central part of the state, the conditions for photographing the Hillsborough River were ideal on the spring day I stopped there.  When I first walked down to the rapids, which are usually in quite shallow water, I actually saw a man navigating them by canoe, though he did have to use some tree branches to pull his way through.  The cloudy conditions made the river and its banks look very lush and everything was quite green.  My dog and I hiked up an down the river bank, taking it all in.  We found special spots and sat and mediated on the beauty before us, though my dog sometimes became frustrated with the care I was taking making each photograph since she no doubt would rather have been following all the smells.  It was fecund and brimming with mysterious life, and it truly did engage all our senses.  The peacefulness was palpable and it looked very sensuous and inviting.  This is a side of Florida often skipped by tourists in favor of the more crowded beaches.  Here, by the river, it is possible to really drop in and connect with one's surroundings.  It is healing, calming, and connecting, and more people should treat themselves to the rejuvenation that is possible here.