The Purest of Expressions

Most children draw and it isn't until about 10-11 years of age that they show any concern in regards to whether or not they are creating 'good or bad' art. These are the golden years of creativity, when everything that they show an interest in –or soak in from their environment- is played out on the canvas, paper, driveway, window and wall.

My six-year old son Adam is currently obsessed with penguins and he has been drawing, modeling and painting them daily. My favorite iteration to date is a scene that he created from tissue paper, which he then glued to his bedroom window. I am ashamed to say that my first reaction was to scold him, but before the words left my mouth I was suddenly struck by the detail and time that he put into it and so the scene remains there today (the image above doesn't show the snow clouds sending down colored snowflakes!). He is so proud of it, and for good reason. Sometimes I am embarrassed of my 'adult' mind-set.
I wonder what visions we, as nature photographers, might offer the world if we were willing to be a little more daring and less concerned about what our friends, editors and colleagues might think?

Digital Graffiti

I've often wondered why people through the ages, from cultures all around the world, have found it compelling to write their names on buildings, trees, rock walls and other public spaces. This isn't a new phenomena to be certain.

I've witnessed Maori graffiti in New Zealand and Native American carvings estimated to be nearly a thousand years old just minutes from my home. Other examples show up in Mulka's Cave in Hyden, Western Australia and we've all heard of France's famous Lascaux.

What is the driving force that compels mankind to strive for a lasting legacy; to carve expressions of puppy-love into the bark of the biggest beech tree? In many instances –especially in times past– I'm sure these things were done to stake a territorial claim not unlike the Vogelkop bower bird of New Guinea, which builds a most beautiful structure to make its presence known. Other marks have undoubtedly been made out of a desire for self-expression of a more artistic nature or for documentary purposes as well.

There is a beautiful granitic outcrop about fifteen minutes from where I now sit that has been painted again and again by visitors. The vandals come in the late hours and cast out their undying affections like multi-colored nets across the surface of the rock. In spite of this, the view is still amazing but I can't help but feel that some of the magic has been robbed away.
As I write, I am struck by the thought that maybe even this blog is a sort of digital graffiti. Possibly my own way of saying "Hello world, here are my thoughts, don't forget me when I'm gone." We are funny creatures indeed.