BrianShaw
Well-known
As the promoter of the "fast Zen" concept, I now must admit that I have finally realized "slow Zen" ... and like it. :angel:
One of my frustrations as a photographer in Los Angeles is the weather. It's either hot and sunny, or cold and dreary. Lots more of the former and much less of the latter. I keep looking for that "in between" weather -- the transition between nice and naughty... err, I mean... stormy. Yesterday was the day. A winter storm was approaching LA, meaning that grey skies and rain would prevail over the weekend. But as I sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the freeway, 30 minutes from home (where the camera and film were), all I could think about was *finally* getting a good shot of the little white Anglican church on the hill. The sun was low but bright, and the cloudys were puffy and white with grey undersides. If only I could get to the church (with a camera) in time, before the weather totally changed.
So, in kicked "fast Zen"... I weaved in and out of traffic, one in spirit with both car and traffic. Once home, I pulled a roll of film out of the fridge, grabbed a camera, tripod and a Coke.
Once again in spirit with car and traffic... I headed to the Church, weaving and bobbing, with one hand on the horn and the other tightly gripping the gear shift knob... all the while watching the rapidly changing weather. It was a synchonized ballet of one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the shifter, and both feet simultaneously orchestrated on the clutch, gas, and -- only as ABSOLUTELY required -- the brake pedals. My steely-eyed stare remained fully focused on the objective!
Upon arrival, there it was... the image I have dreamed about for quite some time. That tiny, white, prairie-styled Anglican church... sitting on a small hill, framed by some mature trees and boulders. The church is special to those who know about it. It's the original church of the rancher/settlers of this part of LA and dates back to the first decade of the 20th Century. For LA, that's OLD. When this area was being developed (1960's) the church was going to be bull-dozed. Dale Evans (Roy Roger's wife) saved the church by having it moved to a nearby cemetery where it has been preserved as a local historical site and is used every Sunday for Anglican services.
I set up my tripod, loaded the film, and framed the image I had imagined. Little white church with puffy clouds looming in the sky. I was alone -- well, me and several thousand corpses -- and one with with my beloved image. I became aware of several cemetery staff members (grave diggers/fillers) watching, but they remained relatively distant. As far as I was concerned, they impeded on my experience about as little as the corpses did.
At one with my camera (please forgive my heresy, but I used a Hasselblad SLR), the image I had dreamed of filled the viewfinder and popped into focus. I realized that without even trying, I had slipped into a true "slow Zen" experience... and it was good... in fact, VERY good.
About frame 4, the camera seemed to malfunction. No longer were my images being captured on film. For a moment, panic set in. Was my beloved Hassy, that which I was now at one with, busted? "Slow Zen" became "fast Zen" once more... and it didn't feel quite as good. I had to figure out and fix the problem FAST... the light was fading and the puffy clouds were quickly forming into a thick, homogeneous mass of aerial vapor, soon to exude copious quantities of precipitation. A harried moment later, I realized that the cable release appears to have failed (I never knew that could happen).
Then I had a mental image of Bill Mattocks and his "message". That silly monochromatic avatar with the sh*t-eating grin haunted my consciousness. But I must admit that the BM moment brought on a good feeling. It is hard to explain, but... there I was, me and my camera, alone in a graveyard, with the image I had lusted over... and a busted camera. "Bill, speak to me... please", I thought. Then it came... the message... "Grasshopper, breathe deep... wait for the 'moment' and use your digit." I never have thought about my finger -- a single, simple, pointer finger -- in quite that way before. It was the key to my realization of a long-repressed dream! "Slow Zen" once again overcame my entire existence... and I blissfully shot the rest of the roll. Perhaps I have just experienced a little bit of Nirvana-on-earth!
I later recalled a time when a visiting priest came to our church and was trying to tell about an experience he had with God while standing in line at McDonalds. I don't recall the exact chain-of-events (or what either he or God ordered), but he spoke of that as "a mystical... almost spiritual... and quite urethral experience..."
Thus was Friday afternoon for me... mystical, spiritual, and (for me, at lease) quite ethereal. As I offered a moment of praise to Him, I also expressed thanks for the great BM. 😉
One of my frustrations as a photographer in Los Angeles is the weather. It's either hot and sunny, or cold and dreary. Lots more of the former and much less of the latter. I keep looking for that "in between" weather -- the transition between nice and naughty... err, I mean... stormy. Yesterday was the day. A winter storm was approaching LA, meaning that grey skies and rain would prevail over the weekend. But as I sat in bumper-to-bumper traffic on the freeway, 30 minutes from home (where the camera and film were), all I could think about was *finally* getting a good shot of the little white Anglican church on the hill. The sun was low but bright, and the cloudys were puffy and white with grey undersides. If only I could get to the church (with a camera) in time, before the weather totally changed.
So, in kicked "fast Zen"... I weaved in and out of traffic, one in spirit with both car and traffic. Once home, I pulled a roll of film out of the fridge, grabbed a camera, tripod and a Coke.
Once again in spirit with car and traffic... I headed to the Church, weaving and bobbing, with one hand on the horn and the other tightly gripping the gear shift knob... all the while watching the rapidly changing weather. It was a synchonized ballet of one hand on the steering wheel, the other on the shifter, and both feet simultaneously orchestrated on the clutch, gas, and -- only as ABSOLUTELY required -- the brake pedals. My steely-eyed stare remained fully focused on the objective!
Upon arrival, there it was... the image I have dreamed about for quite some time. That tiny, white, prairie-styled Anglican church... sitting on a small hill, framed by some mature trees and boulders. The church is special to those who know about it. It's the original church of the rancher/settlers of this part of LA and dates back to the first decade of the 20th Century. For LA, that's OLD. When this area was being developed (1960's) the church was going to be bull-dozed. Dale Evans (Roy Roger's wife) saved the church by having it moved to a nearby cemetery where it has been preserved as a local historical site and is used every Sunday for Anglican services.
I set up my tripod, loaded the film, and framed the image I had imagined. Little white church with puffy clouds looming in the sky. I was alone -- well, me and several thousand corpses -- and one with with my beloved image. I became aware of several cemetery staff members (grave diggers/fillers) watching, but they remained relatively distant. As far as I was concerned, they impeded on my experience about as little as the corpses did.
At one with my camera (please forgive my heresy, but I used a Hasselblad SLR), the image I had dreamed of filled the viewfinder and popped into focus. I realized that without even trying, I had slipped into a true "slow Zen" experience... and it was good... in fact, VERY good.
About frame 4, the camera seemed to malfunction. No longer were my images being captured on film. For a moment, panic set in. Was my beloved Hassy, that which I was now at one with, busted? "Slow Zen" became "fast Zen" once more... and it didn't feel quite as good. I had to figure out and fix the problem FAST... the light was fading and the puffy clouds were quickly forming into a thick, homogeneous mass of aerial vapor, soon to exude copious quantities of precipitation. A harried moment later, I realized that the cable release appears to have failed (I never knew that could happen).
Then I had a mental image of Bill Mattocks and his "message". That silly monochromatic avatar with the sh*t-eating grin haunted my consciousness. But I must admit that the BM moment brought on a good feeling. It is hard to explain, but... there I was, me and my camera, alone in a graveyard, with the image I had lusted over... and a busted camera. "Bill, speak to me... please", I thought. Then it came... the message... "Grasshopper, breathe deep... wait for the 'moment' and use your digit." I never have thought about my finger -- a single, simple, pointer finger -- in quite that way before. It was the key to my realization of a long-repressed dream! "Slow Zen" once again overcame my entire existence... and I blissfully shot the rest of the roll. Perhaps I have just experienced a little bit of Nirvana-on-earth!
I later recalled a time when a visiting priest came to our church and was trying to tell about an experience he had with God while standing in line at McDonalds. I don't recall the exact chain-of-events (or what either he or God ordered), but he spoke of that as "a mystical... almost spiritual... and quite urethral experience..."
Thus was Friday afternoon for me... mystical, spiritual, and (for me, at lease) quite ethereal. As I offered a moment of praise to Him, I also expressed thanks for the great BM. 😉
