Within the tradition of Zen Buddhism the teaching of Beginner’s Mind describes a curious and receptive state of mind, a mind free from all expectations and pre-conceived notions much like the mind of a child. That’s great, but what does that have to do with photography? It turns out that this ancient practice has a great deal of utility for modern day camera work. 

    The essence of this teaching was revealed to me years ago while out in the field searching for a particular subject that would fit comfortably into one of my existing portfolios. On this day however, I unwittingly stumbled upon something completely different and decidedly not what I was looking for. As I walked along the edge of a frozen lake, I dismissively noticed a small piece of trash rising up through the snow. Although the form was interesting, it was met with only a passing glance as it did not fit the desired blueprint and I thought to myself “why in the world would anyone (including me) want a photograph of trash anyway?” Coming back upon this spot after searching the area for more “suitable” subject matter, the seed photograph for the Beneath the Surface portfolio was reluctantly made. This reluctance to see things free of assigned labels and value judgements gave rise to a sad realization. Could it be that what I have viewed as dedicated and directed motivation has actually become nothing more than a barrier? Upon reflection, I discovered in myself a tendency towards conceptualization, planning, and expectation formation that severed the recognition of everything that didn’t fit comfortably within a very specific predetermined framework.  

    I’m sure that I am not alone in this, in fact I know that every single one of us struggle with this in one way or another. This is because we all have a bundle of nerves in our brainstem called the RAS or Reticular Activating System. The RAS is involved with a variety of functions but for the purpose of this discussion, what I care about is how it acts as a “filter” that controls which information even arrives to our brain. So wait, you’re telling me that inside each of our heads we have a little doorman that decides what makes it in and what gets turned away? In a word, yes, but not without our input, as each of us hold responsibility for programming this mechanism for ourselves. This “little doorman” is influenced by our thoughts and interests and is aiming to please us and make our lives easier by rejecting what we are likely not to care about and accepting what it thinks we will like. It’s as if he opens a tightly shut fire door with a smile, allowing a pertinent bit of information to enter and then says to us, “this is what you have been looking for right?”. I’m sure many of us have had the experience of researching and then purchasing a new car, and then begin noticing that make and model of car everywhere we go. Or amidst the chaos of a loud coffee shop someone saying our name cuts through the noise in an instant, these instances  are the RAS at work. This ability to lock onto the things that we are looking for or care most about, while simultaneously locking out everything else has great utility for survival but with the Art life, this “feature” of the RAS is problematic. As artists we don’t always know what we are looking for or even what we are doing, we simply feel a yearning to keep searching. Ideally, each of us could consciously scour all of the the information and decide for ourselves what we find meaningful. But being completely receptive to everything that we come across is obviously impossible, and even if it were the sheer magnitude of possibilities would cause paralysis. So maybe what we need here is some form of middle ground? 

    Rest assured that the little doorman is going to do it’s thing, but I believe the intentional practice of beginner’s mind can provide a yang to the RAS’s yin. Typically as we are out with our camera we have an intention in mind which has already set the goal of the RAS and severely limited what we will find. In addition to this, our monkey minds are constantly bombarded by thoughts and memories, that thing that someone said earlier in the day, perhaps even what needs to be on our grocery list on the way home. At this point although we ARE out in the field with our camera we are no longer fully present. What little presence we do have to offer is so intentional and formulaic that the majority of the subjects that we pass by are forced to whisper so quietly that they cannot even be detected. What I propose is to think of the practice as a form of walking meditation in which the goal is to continually return to a receptive state of visual “listening”. And just like meditation, when we see a thought pop up like a cloud in a clear blue sky we recognize it, and without getting caught up in it or attempting to push it away we just release it, letting it drift away. I’m not going to pretend this is easy as we return time after time to a state of quiet receptivity only to be taken back up into the clouds a moment later. But with determined consistency we find that the more we practice being in the present moment, the less we have to pull our head out of the clouds. These fleeting moments of liberation can yield exciting new directions as we begin to notice things that are “outside our box” widening the doorway over time and allowing more information to enter.

    When out in the field and we do happen to notice something but then feel that tinge of “It’s interesting but…”, “that’s not really the kind of work that I do”, or “what would I possibly do with that”, stop and explore what is causing that resistance and MAKE THE PHOTOGRAPH. I am reminded of a conversation that I had over breakfast with my friend Cole Thompson who happens to be a very well known photographer primarily known for his landscape work. He said “I don’t consider myself a landscape photographer, I am just a photographer, if I feel the need to make a photograph, I do”. Cole was not just saying this, he lives it. His incredible projects of light fixtures and ghostly long exposures of people visiting Auschwitz prove that being open to unexpected opportunities and new directions can yield results that would have never been possible if the little doorman was allowed to work unchecked. As artists utilizing the photographic medium as a means to get to know ourselves and the world around us on a deeper level, we must constantly deconstruct the walls that our little doorman is continually building. It will be a perpetual battle that often feels like we are going against our natural tendencies, but to fully live the Art life, open receptivity must reign supreme. Instead of habitually searching for a specific subject or certain kind of subject matter, we must break free and learn to welcome whatever gifts and insight come our way. Through the practice of beginner’s mind, we can discover for ourselves that novel illumination rarely presents itself as expected.