An Aqueous Mind
What appears important to me today may not be important tomorrow. The camera has allowed me to accumulate evidence of how my brain interprets the world as I proceed with my life.
For the most part, I have lived immersed in urban environments. Naturally I developed skills that allow me to navigate densely populated urban areas and to function in rational ways. Frequently, though, I seek solace through prolonged solitary escapes into wilderness areas. Consequently, I developed a new set of skills suited to the natural world. A contemporary anthropologist would say that I now have two different kinds of life skills, each appropriate to the environment in which it developed. Attuning my mind to navigate these seemingly incompatible conditions requires ever longer periods of adaptation. What interests me is why this should be so, and what the implications are.
Over its evolutionary history the human mind developed many different traits. Eventually the drive to exercise control over what is around us became dominant. However, my attempts at control in solitary interactions with the natural world become blinding impediments rather than bearing any advantage. At some point I became aware that I often find myself feeling much more of what is around me than I can see.
This experience has changed the way I perceive all ecosystems, both around and within me. After all, my body is an ecosystem in itself and has only limited capability, like all other systems, to maintain stable conditions for the myriad co-dependent life forms it must sustain.
The collection of images for this exhibition can be seen as testimony to the process of my mind’s evolution. The images may also serve as an invitation to pause for reflection. A reflection, after all, is that nebulous space where factual data and the mind’s interpretation of the world meet.