When you hide your face, they are dismayed;
when you take away their breath, they die and return to their dust.
When you send forth your spirit they are created;
and you renew the face of the ground. (vss. 27-30)
Yet, we are an integral part of God’s creative process. Madeleine L’Engle, a prolific author and speaker, says, “We cannot create until we acknowledge our createdness.”1 In Genesis 1–2, God creates humans and gifts humankind with the creative challenge of naming the animals and caring for the well-being of the world. Landscape photography in particular opens the photographer to human connections with creation.
Once we acknowledge we are part of creation, then as photographers we can focus on the idea that we are cocreators with God. Each time we pick up the camera, invite God into the process, and record an image, we cocreate a piece of art with God. L’Engle goes on to say, “An artist [photographer] is a nourisher and a creator who knows that during the act of creation there is collaboration. We do not create [a photograph] alone.”2
We do not travel the journey of meditation on both sides of the camera alone. The Spirit walks with us as we move out into the world as artists and storytellers.
We are also pilgrims on a journey that is not always easy. When we open ourselves to the creative presence of the Spirit, we uncover vulnerable places in our soul. Places of pain and hurt, places of deep joy, places of uncertainty and lack of confidence can all rise up unexpectedly in the creative process. Prayer and meditation help us walk through this part of our journey. The same Spirit who offers creative presence also joins us as a companion and comforter for the journey.
How to Use This Book
Part One: Meditation Behind the Camera, explores the act of photography as a spiritual practice. I arranged the chapters like a day of photography, although there is fluidity of practices throughout the day. The day begins with Centering, Listening, and Waiting (chapters 1–3) before we leave the house and right after arriving at our destination. Then by using the practice of Being Attentive (chapter 4), we sense where the Spirit is leading in the field.
Once we have the lay of the land, we approach the day as those Seeing the Story (chapter 5): what story are we being called to tell? We explore Practicing Silence (chapter 6) and experience Healing (chapter 7) toward the end of the trip. However, these final practices are significant components throughout the whole day. Chapter 8 focuses on reflection at the end of the day.
Each chapter has two concluding sections: Reflections and Ideas for Focusing Your Photography. The Reflections section guides us in using photography to inform our spiritual life. Ideas for Focusing Your Photography offers suggestions based on the chapter’s topic. All of the photography suggestions can be found at the end of the book.
Take time with the ideas and exercises presented. There’s no need to try every exercise on each photo trip! Work through the concepts one at a time. Becoming more familiar with the book allows the Spirit to guide you regarding the right exercises for each particular trip. Read chapter 8 alongside the others because it will deepen your reflections at the end of each chapter.
Part Two: Meditation in Front of the Camera, explores how to use the images we record to deepen our faith journeys. The chapters are Praying, Focusing, and Contemplating. Again, try the exercises one at a time. Each photography trip will emphasize specific types of reflection.
A note on language. Throughout the book I use words and phrases like record, write, receive, and journaling with the camera to describe the act of clicking the shutter button. I have purposefully not used words like take, aim, shoot, and capture in an effort to avoid combative language. My rationale for language choices receives fuller explanation in chapter 4, Being Attentive.
The language in the book also focuses on nature, landscape, and architectural photography—my specialty areas. If your specialty involves people, wildlife, or the street, make the transitions in your mind. The concepts in the book can be used with many types of photography. The presence you bring into your photography makes a difference in the quality of the experience and your spiritual journey.
The Journey
Meditation on Both Sides of the Camera is a journey of seeing, exploring, listening, and growing. The practices can lead to a deepened spiritual life. They can also make a difference in the actual images you record. Slow down; invite God into the process; follow the Spirit; and enjoy the journey ahead.
Part One
Meditation Behind the Camera
1
The seagull landed on a rock two feet from where I had been sitting for thirty minutes. It paid no attention to me. Instead, it turned to look out across the ocean, almost as if to say, “What are you looking at?” Even though I had cast my eyes out over the water, my focus was inward. What was wrong? I had been taking photographs most of the day, and I knew they all lacked depth. The spirituality in each one was as flat as the paper I would print the pictures on.
We sat there in silence—a photographer searching and a seagull providing a quiet presence. Why had this bird decided to join me? After a time, I realized my spirit was quieter than it had been when I left home and even when I had first sat down on the rocks. I must have quieted my soul more than I knew, or the seagull wouldn’t have landed and stayed next to me. The seagull, who looked old and wise, reminded me of an essential component of my work: I had started my photo trip without centering, without inviting God to join me, and without asking what God wanted me to photograph. When I finally stopped and let go of my own agenda, I could feel a presence beyond me. God was now part of the photo outing. The seagull reminded me of the value of centering.
Beginning the journey of photography without centering and meditative preparation resembles rushing into prayer. Not stopping after we record a scene leaves the photos “without breath.” The spiritual journey of photography from beginning to end is like breathing life into the stories of our photographs and our souls.
Preparation
Physical preparation often takes priority before we go out on a photography adventure of any kind, including family or group gatherings. Our questions focus on equipment and supplies such as these: Are the batteries charged? Do I have space on my memory card? Do I have film? Do I need to clean my camera? Do I have/need a flash or tripod? Do I have maps or GPS, water, lunch, hat, etc.? The questions and preparation become second nature. We gather all the equipment and walk out the door prepared for a day of photography. However, are we really ready?
The questions above crowd our brains as we prepare. How often do we take the time to ask, “Am I ready spiritually? My mind is ready; my body is ready; my equipment is ready, but how is it with my soul?” Do we walk out the door without checking the place within us—the place where the soul of our creativity lives?
Richard Rohr comments that humans tend to be a circumference people, living on the boundaries rather than in the center.3 Our lives focus on the daily stuff that bombards us. We look for meaning in the small things. We seek identity from other people and our belongings. We move toward what is in front of us. We photograph the surface of our subjects. The results are flat just like mine were before the seagull joined me.
Life on the outer edges arises from busy, active, and noisy days. Our lives are filled with people and events that clamor for our attention. Moving toward the center breaks the hold the noise has on our being. Centering allows us to hear the still small voice of God (1 Kings 19:12) and to see with clarity.
The technical aspects of photography acknowledge the importance of noise reduction to avoid photos with a grainy appearance (for more information on image