© Jessica Crawford
Three years ago I attended a workshop lead by Doug Beasley at his Vision Quest Photographic Arts Retreat Center called Zen and the Art of Photography. I didn't really know what to expect. What in the world a modern artistic medium and an ancient religious practice had in common seemed rather odd. All I had to go on was a trust in Doug that he wouldn't turn the weekend into some sort of New Age touchy-feely empty headed experience. I knew him as a bright and talented photographer so I was hoping his teaching skills would be up to the task.
I wasn't mistaken.
Ten of us spent a lot of time sitting around and talking about poetry, Zen, meditation, photography and what we did with our lives. We'd mediate, write in journals, take walks and shoot photos. The discussions didn't have much to do with f-stops, film speeds, apertures, how to pose or even the "rules" of photography. I remember the giggling, the silences, the smell of the forest and the good food. Nothing really "remarkable" happened that weekend. I didn't go through any huge life changes or walk away from the Vision Quest workshop all blissed out and "converted" to anything new or unusual. Instead, I learned a wonderful way to approach the art of photography. Somewhere within the meditation, the conversations, the poetry readings and the laughter I managed to take some of my favorite photographs. Without ever thinking about it I took photographs of all different kinds of people, places and objects, again, and again, and again.
In short, the weekend helped me approach photography in a whole new way. I stopped worrying about being a photographer and simply became a photographer. I stopped wondering whether I was a portrait photographer, a nature photographer, a travel photographer or any type of photographer and simply learned to enjoy taking photographs. Did my photographic skills improve? I don't know. To this day most of my photographs are best left on a contact sheet for my eyes only. What is different, however, is how I see all of it, how I accept it and how I simply don't worry about my "career" my "goals" and whether or not I measure up with the others.
Good teaching is invisible. It sneaks up, and crawls under a persons skin without their ever realizing it happened. Once that happens it is impossible to go back and see the shadows on the wall as your only reality. All you know is that you see the world through new eyes. In other words, good teaching is like good art. The medium of the lesson is secondary to the content of the idea.
A weekend at Vision Quest studying Zen and the Art of Photography may give you such an experience. Oh, and buy some film. Your going to be very busy. Michael Kennedy
