I can’t stop thinking about photographs and my inclination to take photographs. I was semi-hoping that reading Home Economics would get some of Leopold out of my head, but sadly it just ended up making me think more about A Sand County Almanac.
This week I took a walk the night of the full moon. It was, of course, relatively late at night so I found that I couldn’t get totally swept up and lost in the landscape because to do so might somehow draw danger to me, but the moon was insanely pretty. It was so bright, it made the normally black sky turn blue, and the normally white clouds turn gray and stormy. The blue of the sky made the orange on the trees stand out, even more so than they do during the day. The sky and the leaves seemed to be the only colors within a colorless landscape, a landscape that had already given itself over to the shadows and the darkness. I remember describing this walk to a friend of mine and she kept saying that I should have taken my camera, but I didn’t find myself agreeing with her. I found myself questioning her, questioning why I took photographs and what happened to my photographs after I had taken them. I found myself thinking that if I had taken my camera I would have been out for that perfect shot which I could later sell to someone in the form of a note card or enter it into a contest and possibly earn some money from it that way.
My mother asked me to take pictures of a particularly pretty bush this weekend and I found myself unwilling to do it, but unable to explain to her why. I think I understand now. I think I was reluctant because photography, for me, has become about money. Therefore when I get behind my camera I am seeing things in terms of their economic value. I’m putting a price on these natural sights, sights that people can see for free and sights, which, in my opinion, shouldn’t necessarily have a price, put upon them. When I take a walk I am frequently asked why I didn’t take any pictures and I think my response is something like Leopold describes in one of his essays: “But we who seek wilderness travel for sport are foiled when we are forced to compete with mechanized substitutes” (193). I believe that Leopold is trying to say that we don’t seem to be able to enjoy true wilderness when we have things like cars, trains, and big RVs. To not have these things looks absurd and he says, “It is footless to execute a portage to the tune of motor launches, or to turn out your bellemare in the pasture of a summer hotel. It is better to stay at home.” You can’t get the experience which you are craving because others are not getting it either. They are not getting it because of these machines. I am not getting to observe nature in the way that I would like because my camera is one of these machines. It keeps me separated, within the human fold, thinking economically or aesthetically, but not uniquely. When I talk a walk I don’t want to have to turn every thought, every moment, every picture into something economical. At the very least I don’t want to be forced to think about its economic weight consciously. It’s like Leopold says, “Recreation is valuable in proportion to the intensity of its experiences, and to the degree to which it differs from and contrasts with workaday life.” (194). In other words, the true value of recreation is not how much money it can get you. It’s not something that should be pursued in terms of economic gain, but which frequently is. It’s something that should bring you closer to nature, and not farther from it.
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