The Philosophy of Photography

Clayton was born at a point in history when it was not unusual to give one's child a camera. A few pointers might be given on HOW to use the camera - don't shoot into the light, for example - but very little was said about WHAT to photograph. In that regard there was quite a lot of freedom. As long as one stayed within the bounds of moral and aesthetic common sense, there was complete artistic freedom. This was a privilege that Clayton did not take lightly.

From an early age he was not particularly interested in photographing people. It seemed to him that the whole rest of the world was already doing that, so why not try something different?

The world was a visually fascinating place. There were trees and buildings and mountains and clouds and ships and bridges. These things were screaming to be photographed.

Then there were vast vistas of grasslands, forests, oceans and deserts to reckon with. How could you not be uplifted by these creations of Mother Nature? If not, what is wrong with you?

At bottom Clayton was a landscape guy. Deeper than that he was a form, color and composition guy.

It's true that people have form, color and composition, but they also have an unpredictable brew of egos, emotions, and wildly different psyches. The results aren't always harmonious.

A simple case in point was the family portrait. Clayton remembered his Dad corralling the family, and his Mom dragging the comb forcefully through his hair. It was as close an experience to being cattle as he could remember. There were ongoing prods... "Smile dammit! Look happier!"

How much more spiritually uplifting to photograph a landscape! A spirit could really soar in a landscape, and not worry about knocking into people and their potential disapproval.

An early trip to Arizona provided much visual fodder. Craggy ochre mountain ranges, covered with cacti, were a delight to behold and capture on film. Such exotic scenery nourished his eyes and filled his spirit.

In college Clayton took an entire roll of film, mostly of trees, while hiking along the Hudson River. Pleased with the results, he showed the pictures to an acquaintance.

"There's not a single person in these pictures", the acquaintance said, with a note of incredulity.

The acquaintance's reaction caused a twinge of discomfort in Clayton. He had never thought about it that way. "These humans" he thought, "they really do think differently from me".

He considered the problem further. "These humans must really think a lot of themselves if they want to be photographed again and again. How arrogant! Where is the humility in the face of God and nature? What a bunch of narcissists."

To Clayton's way of thinking, photographing humans verged on the perverse. To be clear, there was nothing wrong with the occasional photo of a loved one. Sometimes the stars lined up and, quite accidentally, there would be a good photo of a loved one. That was a very nice thing indeed. One or two good photos like that would suffice for a  lifetime.

It was the "need" to be photographed constantly that was suspect in Clayton's eyes. Life simply wasn't like that 150 years ago, when one's attention was on ploughing the field, or perhaps milking the cow, or building the barn.

Even in the absence of farm work, it was important just to "be", just to exist in the Universe and not in a photograph.

Articulating his beliefs even further, Clayton declared at a podium in a public park that it was OK to photograph people going about their day-to-day business, provided that they did not POSE for the camera.

Posing, in Clayton's mind, was the unpardonable sin. Would Jesus pose for the camera? More likely he would toss it aside, and make some cryptic remark about how God is already photographing everything, what is the need of a human camera?

Jesus might further explain that it is not the outward appearances that photographs capture that matter, but  rather the internal spirit of things that animate the Universe in the first place. Without that spiritual foundation, you can throw your whole photographic empire into the garbage bin thank you. Or so Jesus might point out.

And of course that is true, but not a lot of people will readily admit that.

Jesus liked Clayton's philosophy of photography and contacted him. Exactly how is not known.

Together, they collaborated on a book called "The Philosophy of Photography". In that book, they elaborated in great detail on the non-anthropocentric school of photography described here. They knew that the camera, although a wonderful invention, was creating a lot of unnecessary problems for the human race, and they wanted to set down a few sensible guidelines for future users.

They will be signing copies of their book tonight at Barnes and Noble at eight o'clock pm.

- Copyright 2017 by P.T. Gachot