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Vision is the art of seeing what is invisible to others.

— Johnathan Swift

As I sit down to write this blog, I am remembering the title of one of Brooks Jensen’s “Here’s a Thought” episodes from LensWork – Observe a Pencil. He describes his recollection of a high school science experiment in which the teacher asked each student to write down all they could observe about a pencil. Brooks, and probably others in the class, was not impressed with the assignment. He and the rest of the students in the class were surprised, however, when the teacher started writing out all the things that were observed with regard to the pencil. There were things that most of them found and other things that were unique finds and surprises. He connected this long remembered experiment to the process and experience of observation in photography.

I’ve listened to this episode of “Observe a Pencil” more than a few times and even played it for a group of my workshop clients on our first evening together … hoping that it would remind, inspire and encourage each of us to look a little further than the “easy and obvious” frames in front of us. Brooks referred to these as the “compulsories.” I agree. How often are we photographers with others in the same place and time and find ourselves surprised by what the others in our group saw and photographed in the same location during the same time period? Sometimes, we may have been right next to them and never noticed what they did. We missed our chance to explore the same thing differently. Why is that? Of course, many reasons could be deduced, but one of them might be that we did not slow down, and we did not have our “noticers” on.

The Broken Pencil – A Beginning

OUR “NOTICERS”

You’ve heard me say this before and will likely hear it again. I say it as much for myself as I do for others. When we keep our minds open to seeing, hearing and feeling whatever comes our way, we see and notice more. Some days are easier than others to get into that space, but it IS what helps get us away from photographing only the compulsories so we can find what is more interesting or compelling. This openness comes with a deliberate move to be present, to slow down and to let go of pressures and expectations. Putting on our “noticers” does not guarantee that we will create stellar images. It does, however, ensure that we will see something different or that we may see a much-photographed subject differently.

When I listened to “Observe a Pencil,” the commentary stuck with me. So much so that when I walked out to the hotel parking lot to get something out of my car, I noticed a pencil on the pavement. It was yellow, wood with a carbon center, eraser on top connected by a crinkled silver metal band. However, this pencil was not nine inches long and did not have a point. It was broken and measured about two and a half inches long from the barely, if ever, used eraser tip to the crushed, cracked and broken end without a sharpened point. I picked it up, put it in my car and brought it home. It’s been riding in my car for over 1,500 miles, give or take. It is part of the inspiration for this blog.

The Broken Pencil on the Edge

OBSERVATION

Besides the crushed and broken pencil, the words “observe” and “observation” serve as inspiration for this writing and the images included herein. Naturally, I had to look up these words, and here’s what I found:

An act or instance of noticing or perceiving, and
A sensory experience about the natural world. It can include seeing, tasting, touching, hearing or feeling something.

Of course, there were more variations of the definitions, but these were the two that I like and felt related more closely to what I was responding to with regard to the pencil and with subjects that I connect with and photograph.

Interestingly, too, I found a quote by Maria Montessori, an Italian physician and educator best known for her philosophy of education, the Montessori Method – “a child-centered approach emphasizing hands-on learning, independence, and a prepared environment that allows children to learn at their own pace.” Here is what she had to say about observation:

We cannot create observers by saying “observe,” but by giving them the power and the means for this observation, and those means are procured through the education of the senses.

While I know very little of the Montessori Method beyond the basics, this quote and the high school science experiment speak loudly to the power and value of paying attention in a more than cursory way to what is in front of us and to its ability to encourage and expand one’s vision.

The Hellebores

THE CHALLENGE – THREE THINGS

As I pondered the pencil and the point of this blog, I thought it might be “fun” to observe and photograph three things and share what I found in the images. With limited time to execute this challenge (two days), I chose three things that were within reach, accessible and relatively simple or obvious. I noted that perhaps the compulsories might be boring and too easy and would work to avoid them.

First, the Broken Pencil – how could I not choose this subject? Second, my hellebores that are currently growing in the back patio. And, third, the “helicopters” I snatched from a maple tree in my neighborhood.

My challenge was not to create those “stellar” images I referred to earlier. Instead, no matter how I chose to accomplish the tasks, my challenge was to “observe, notice and see more,” and then to photograph and share the images.

The Helicopters – Start Here

THE PENCIL – THE BROKEN ONE

I’ve already described this pencil’s condition, its origin and the inspiration for picking it up in the parking lot. Believe it or not, I do believe that even in its much-shortened condition it has potential. Sharpen the broken end to a point, and it would work well in the smaller hands of a child, or mine, just for fun. And, I’m fairly certain that the eraser is still fully functional despite its time spent on the pavement bearing all kinds of abuse and elements. That said, I could not test these theories of “potential” until the “as is” photographs were completed. Once done, do I really want to use the pencil in that way? I think not. If I do, it then becomes something less than inspiration. It becomes a tool. I don’t want a tool. I want inspiration. Decision made – pencil remains broken and unused in the future.

The Broken Pencil from a different perspective

The Broken Pencil and a set of old books

THE HELLEBORES

Currently, I have three hellebore plants growing and blooming after the winter’s cold and several March freezes. The flowers are in various stages. Some are “spent” and perhaps will produce seed pod soon. Others are still in what I might refer to as the middle bloom phase; and there are even a few more freshly emerged blooms with at least one flower waiting to burst open. I have a few choices and many options for how I photograph them. A few challenges ensue and persist. Even though the patio is fenced and the hellebores are low the ground and tucked in a corner, there is wind, wind and more wind. I can’t articulate exactly why, but I am somewhat reluctant to cut any of them and bring them inside to photograph. This may change once I get started. In addition, since these plants are on the edge of a cement and brick edge, I will need to be in a less-than-comfortable position to photograph. Oh, and the tripod is not even remotely practical in this corner of the patio. I persevered and laid down on two sets of chair cushions with my macro lens in hand.

The Hellebore from a different perspective

Exploring the interior of the Hellebore

THE “HELICOPTERS”

When we were growing up, my sisters and I used to pick the helicopter seeds off the maple trees, split them at the thick end and stick them on our noses like little unicorn horns. What a great memory. Back then, I didn’t know the type of tree necessarily nor did I know that the helicopters were really seeds. Apparently, these seeds are edible for some critters, but mostly known for their signature twisting and spiraling motion as they fall from the trees. After a bit more reading, I also learned that some see these helicopters as a symbol of courage and hope – “courage to let go of what is familiar and hope that the wind will carry them to new fertile ground on which to flourish” (Maple Seed Counseling, Significance of the Maple Seed). Interesting metaphor.

Since I’d already snatched the small sprig of helicopters still connected to a small branch and placed it in a small cup of water, my fight this time was not with the wind but with my observations and imagination. I was tight on time and know that there are many more possibilities for the helicopters, but a printed background, small vase and mostly a Lensbaby Sweet 22 with macro filters and interpretations in post processing, it feels like a good start.

Helicopters – Play More

Helicopter Spirits – Keep Going

FINAL THOUGHTS

As I mentioned earlier, this all began with less than five minutes with Brooks Jensen on LensWork and the discussion of a pencil. The broken one I found in the parking lot will go back to its “point of inspiration” in front of my steering wheel to serve as a reminder to observe. The hellebores will complete their bloom season soon, and the maple helicopters will make their journeys through the wind to the ground and do what they’re meant to do.

There will be more things to see, notice and photograph, well beyond the compulsories. If you or I must photograph the obvious views, let’s do it in such a way that they are out of our system. Do them and be done with them. Let’s use those “iconics” as a jumping off point. Let’s spend more time noticing and observing and discovering new aspects and with new perspectives and ways to explore our subjects so that we become immersed, connected and surprised by what we see and feel and create.

Thomas Merton once said, “Art enables us to find ourselves and lose ourselves at the same time.” Let’s head out to the “Lost and Found” department!

The artist is nothing without the gift, but the gift is nothing without work.

– Emile Zola

The Broken Pencil and old books tied with twine.