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Why Photograph? Blake Andrews, Roma and a raison d'etre

[Psychobabble warning - if phrases like "Working with introjects holds an important position within relational integrative psychotherapy" have you reaching for your revolver, I'd skip to another site at this point].

This is a great read and got me to thinking, again, about why it feels as if photography has chosen me, why it feels as if I have come home when I have a camera in hand and a reason to use it, or even just a fancy to do so.  I think it boils down to a sense that photography satisfies both my male and female internalised parents: what I mean is, my mother and father were fairly gender-stereotypical in some ways - my mother a liberal social worker, my father an empiricist, a scientist (a research chemist, he worked at the Chorleywood Flour Milling and Baking Research Association - FMBRA - he's at the link - NJH Dodds. I once tried to read a university thesis of his - I couldn't understand the first line - there's probably a thesis in that itself). My mother encouraged the arts, my father the sciences, although there weren't strict demarcations - they both belonged to the Chorleywood Community Arts Centre for example, and whilst there my dad made a bust of the local lollipop man; he also liked a bit of photography himself, having a Rolleicord and darkroom equipment that once or twice he may even have had time to use).

Anyway, anyway. Photography - I think it satisfies the internalised scientist in me (f-stops, focal lengths, hyperfocal distances, the inverse square law and not forgetting, in times past, actual chemistry in the darkroom), as well as the fluffy liberal arts major (the Art baby, the Art, the Search for Meaning in an Essentially Chaotic Universe). Shall we say then that, for me, photography represents at least partial resolution of the following condition, a condition that can, at its worst, lead to chronic low-level depression and lack of self-esteem:

Berne (1961, in Erskine, 2003) defined Parent ego states as “a set of feelings, attitudes, and behaviour patterns which resemble those of parental figure” [sic]. Parent ego states are an actual historical internalization of the personality of one's own parents or other significant parental figures, as perceived by the child at the time of introjection. »The historical accuracy of the portrayal is not particularly relevant.What is important is the parent-as-experienced by the client. A person introjects not so much what his or her parents “actually” thought and felt and did, as what he or she experienced them thinking and feeling and believing about the child, about themselves, and about the world« (Erskine, 2003, p. 105).

Psychotherapy with the Parent Ego State - Zaletel, Potocnik, Jalen.

Me? Chronically depressed and with low levels of self-esteem? Well, at times my world-view isn't exactly rosy, though for the last few years it has improved - maybe this coincides with photography giving me purpose and meaning. I tend towards the dour but given a camera and a photographic rationale - these go a long way towards ameliorating this. Pretty much the whole way in fact. So sometimes the photographs reflect the melancholy in my Celtic soul (see below) - so be it - whatever gets you through the day brother.

Photography is a unifying and life-affirming activity for me and makes me feel whole, as if I am satisfying some internal gap or missing element. When I am immersed in it there is nothing else I would rather be doing. Nothing.

And now, here's a picture:

Last Light, Aberaeron


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My trouble is

when I'm confronted with a request for headshots, say, I can't just stop there I have to start experimenting. I mean, you wouldn't put this on Spotlight or the IMDb now would you? Ah well, I wouldn't do it if I couldn't, if you see what I mean. Above is the ever-beautiful Claire-Monique Martin taken on Friday. Other photographs were procured.

Trump'ed on

You're probably sick of reading Niemöller's quote but here it is again - why not have another butcher's':

"First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out— 
Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out— 
Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me."

(from The Holocaust Encyclopedia).

I've read it so many times throughout my life that when it appeared in my Facebook feed I'd roll my eyes and scroll past wondering why some unimaginative ass had bothered to post it yet again - didn't we all already know it off by bloody heart?

And now here I am, another unimaginative ass, posting it on the web and ensuring that both my readers are pissed off and bored. Only it does have a new urgency now doesn't it? I mean with The Orange One in power it becomes resonant again…

Waltercio Caldas

Portrait taken at Cecilia Brunson Project, Bermondsey.

From Wikipedia:

Waltércio Caldas Júnior (born 6 November 1946), also known as Waltércio Caldas, is a Brazilian sculptor, designer, and graphic artist. Caldas is best known as part of Brazil's Neo-Concretism movement as well as for his eclectic choices in materials.