Seeing Freshly through Contemplative Photography

Seeing is the fundamental basis of photography.

As Henri Cartier-Bresson, the master of the decisive moment said,

“Technique is important only insofar as you must master it in order to communicate what you see… In any case, people think far too much about techniques and not enough about seeing.”[1]

Contemplative Photography is an approach to photography that focuses on learning (or perhaps we could say re-learning) how to see.

That might sound ridiculous. “Learn to see?  I am seeing all the time!” Well, yes and no…

Understanding How We See

As babies, we first begin to see by seeing light, shapes, colors. We don’t “know” what things are yet, in terms of labels or names. We have quite a simple, pure experience of seeing.

As we get older, to help us understandably negotiate the world, we start to understand that a certain shape is a “cup” or a “table” for example. This is necessary and useful, but at the same time, it stops us from actually seeing.

The moment we label something as a “cup” or “table”, we stop seeing that exact object, at that exact moment in time—how the light falls on the handle of the cup, how the knot of wood seems to meld with the blueberry stain on the edge of the table—and it is replaced with a vague composite mental picture of “cup” or “table”. And along with this, we lose the freshness of seeing the world with new eyes, with the eyes of a child, as is sometimes said. Luckily, this fresh seeing is never gone, it is just temporarily covered over and it is absolutely possible to uncover it again.

Seeing vs. Thinking

The key to the practice of contemplative photography is to recognize that seeing and thinking are very different. Thinking relates to the world through ideas and mental images. Seeing perceives things directly, just as they are.

— from The Practice in a Nutshell, by Andy Karr & Michael Wood

 Whether it is ancient Buddhist philosophy or modern neuroscience, both seem to agree that we move from actually seeing a visual picture (perception) to thinking about a mental picture (conception) within a fraction of a second.[2]

The process which happens so fast, we don’t usually notice it is:

•  In the first moment, we see…

•  In the next moment, we “know” what something is and labeling comes in “cup”, “table”.

• In the moment after that, we have an opinion about what we’ve seen—“I like it” or “I don’t like it” to varying degrees.

In the first moment, we see light hitting small shapes of different green tones (our perception). In the next moment, we stop seeing the actual tree that is right in front of us. Instead, we see a composite mental picture of whatever a “tree” looks like in our mind, based on our previous experiences and memories (our conception). And then perhaps we also have, a small thought of “Oh, so pretty.” or “What a sad looking tree.”, if we even really notice it at all.

The approach of contemplative photography is to stay with, or to come back to and re-discover, the first moment of seeing.

What is Contemplative Photography (Miksang)?

The term Contemplative Photography was coined by students of the Tibetan Meditation master Chögyam Trungpa. It is also known as Miksang, or “Good Eye”.

 As described by Andy Karr & Michael Wood,

 “The root meaning of the word contemplate is connected with careful observation. It means to be present with something in an open space. This space is created by letting go of the currents of mental activity that obscure our natural insight and awareness.”[3]

In contemplative photography, we slow down. Speed and ambition are so prevalent in our culture, that whether we like it or not, these collective tendencies push us forward to the end goal, unfortunately often losing the beauty of the journey along the way.

So, here we focus on taking the time to actually see, to become aware of and present with what is actually happening around us, and then we try to accurately capture that with our camera.

Being contemplative doesn’t have to mean being serious or somber. In fact, most people experience contemplative photography as a joyful, playful experience. If you don’t relate to the word “contemplative” though, no problem, the name is far less important than the process or the experience itself.

Why Practice Contemplative Photography?  

Contemplative photography offers us a method to spend more time in direct, non-judgmental witness of the world.

Why is this important?

Well… For a start, it is relaxing and joyful, something we all need more of! Through this exploration, we start to rediscover the beauty all around us.

While working with contemplative photography, you’ll practice giving yourself and your mind a break. Most of the time we have opinions or think we have to have opinions about everything we see or experience. “I like this.” “I don’t like that.” “Oooh, nice.” “Yuck, ugly.” “He’s like this.” “She’s like that.” It can be exhausting to have to engage your mind this way with everything you experience. Imagine how relaxing it could be to just see things without having to have an opinion about them.

Contemplative photography is a discipline that trains you to allow things to be as they really are, which can be an incredibly useful training for life in general.

It also holds up a mirror to our concepts and judgements that are often hidden from us. Because the camera is objective, it literally illustrates through the photos we take how different our perceptions and concepts can be. When the camera shows us something very different from what we thought we saw, we know we were seeing with our judgments and not our eyes.

At worst, all these judgements and concepts we place on everything we experience are the roots of prejudice and discrimination. Becoming more aware of our hidden likes and dislikes in small things, is a great beginning in trying to minimize the harm we can create in the world arising from our unconscious biases.

Plus, you’ll end up with some beautiful photographs in the process!

How to Begin

What’s so great about contemplative photography is that anything can be a suitable subject. It does not require traveling to exotic locations. You can start right in your own kitchen, backyard or city street. If you take the time to actually slow down and look, there is an incredibly rich source of photographic material right around you.

First, give yourself the gift of time, a rarity these days. Try to block out a morning or afternoon in your calendar, or at least an hour or two. The more time you give yourself, the less pressure you’ll feel to “get something good” and get it quick.

You can start by walking around your neighbourhood or even your house, apartment, or back garden.

Take some time to “arrive in your body.” That might sound strange, but do you ever have the experience of forgetting that you have a body? Do you ever find yourself so absorbed in thinking you actually stop feeling your body?

 Henri Cartier-Bresson spoke about this as,

 “putting one’s head, one’s eye and one’s heart on the same axis.”[4]

Put your attention on the feeling of your feet as you walk. This can help you move from the mental realm of your head to the more grounded world of your body and heart.

Wherever you are, take the time to look.

Often, the more time we spend in a place, the less we actually see. Have you ever had that feeling of coming back home after a holiday and seeing your home in a different way? By simply paying attention, we can recreate this experience of seeing freshly.

 Try walking on a different side of the street than you normally do, sometimes something as simple as this will give you a completely different perspective.

Don’t be too eager to capture something, keep your camera put away, try to enjoy simply walking and looking.

Try to stay in the world of the senses. Feel the temperature or the breeze on your skin. Be aware of any sounds that are around you. See the light as it makes patterns on the sidewalk.

You will discover that you quickly return to the mental realm of judgment: “That’s gross, I wish my neighbour would pick up the dog poop.” “Oooh, I love the flowers in their window, I wonder where they got them.” “Am I wasting my Saturday afternoon?” “Am I ever going to get a good picture?” “Why did she say that in the meeting yesterday?” Blah blah blah blah blah.

When you notice these judgments, don’t worry, it’s no big deal. That’s just what the mind does. This quality of the mind can be incredibly useful as well, but we want to be able to control it, not have it control us. So, when you notice you are getting lost in the realm of thoughts again, all you need to do is gently bring yourself back to your senses, quite literally. Feel your feet as you walk, notice the sound of the dog barking, see the colours or the light or the patterns that are all around you.

The Three Stages of the Practice

After spending time becoming grounded in the present moment of your environment, Andy Karr & Michael Wood describe the practice of contemplative photography as having three stages or parts: 

• First we learn to recognize naturally occurring glimpses of seeing and the contemplative mind. (Connecting with what we call the flash of perception.)

• Next we stabilize that connection through looking further. (Working with visual discernment.)

• Finally, we take photographs from within that state of mind. (Forming the equivalent of what we have seen.)[5]

Flash of Perception

At some point, you will see something that strikes you in some way. It might even physically stop you for a moment. How a ray of light illuminates something or how a color seems to pop out at you.

 The flash of perception is distinct, it has a quality of cutting through your thoughts.

Visual Discernment

When this happens, allow yourself to be stopped. Literally stop in your tracks and stay with whatever stopped you.

The trick here is to try to relax instead of panic. Often, when we see something this is where the speed and the ambition enter in. There is suddenly what feels like an uncontrollable rush, “I have to capture it, I have to get it now before it vanishes!”

When you notice that tightening, try to relax and just gently enquire, “What was it that stopped me?” and find the answer in a visual sense, in a way that allows you to stay with or come back to what you saw with a soft curiosity.

Notice everything that was included in your flash of perception. Notice what was around it but perhaps not included in it.

Here you discern what will actually be in your photograph. This is the crucial moment when discipline is required. The mind will come in and say, “Oh, but this shot might look better if we just add in a little bit of this,” or it might say “Oh that’s actually ugly, I should cut that little bit out.”

Especially if you went to art school, the urge to “compose” will be particularly strong and you will feel compelled to apply “rules of thirds” and so on. Let go of these intellectual concerns. Trust what stopped you. Trust that what you saw was enough, was more than enough.

Since in the medium of photography, we are bound by the rectangular shapes of the frame, also ask yourself if what you saw fits best in a vertical shot (portrait) or a horizontal shot (landscape)?

When you feel that you have accurately discerned what you saw, then, and only then, pick up your camera.

Forming the Equivalent

When you pick up your camera, try to include all of what stopped you in the frame—no more, no less. Fill your frame with the flash of perception.

Here it can be helpful to know the simple commands of your camera to help you capture what you saw as accurately as possible. This means what you discerned that you actually saw, without spending time to try to make it more dramatic, more striking, more whatever…

It is important to note that you don’t need all kinds of fancy cameras and equipment, which can often be a hindrance. The best camera is the one you have with you, which can even be the one in your phone.

So, after you’ve filled your frame with what you saw, then, with a relaxed breath, take the picture. Try to take only one or two, no need for a dozen shots. We can often go wild with digital cameras these days and take tons of pictures, stemming from this fear or urgency to make sure to capture what we saw. Again, trust that what you have is enough.

And then keep walking and seeing.

Sometimes you will come back home with a few pictures you love, sometimes none. Either way, remember:  the process is more important that the result.

As the great photographer Dorthea Lange said:

The camera is an instrument that teaches people how to see without a camera.”[6]

Of course, it’s also super cool to have a couple of great pictures to look at afterwards as well!

Resources for Contemplative Photography (Miksang)

We recommend the book, The Practice of Contemplative Photography, as a starting point. It also has lots of exercises that you can try on your own.

Within the Contemplative Photography or Miksang community, two main “schools” have formed. Both have wonderful teachers, approaches and perspectives that you can learn from. Luckily, both now offer online courses and have many wonderful books. 

• Miksang Contemplative Photography (Michael Wood—original founder of Miksang training—& Julie de Bose, main teachers): www.miksang.com

• Nalanda Miksang (John Mc Quade & Miriam Hall, main teachers): www.miksang.org

Also, Andy Karr’s website, Seeing Fresh, has some wonderful image galleries and summaries of how to practice along with specific exercises and focuses.

These resources will support you in your practice of contemplative photography, but the best way to learn is by trying it yourself. Over time, you will find it easier to quiet your mind and to enjoy, simply seeing. 

[1] Henri Cartier-Bresson, The Mind’s Eye: Writings on Photography and Photographers, 1st edition. (New York: Aperture, 1999), p.38.

[2] See the Buddhist teachings on “The Eight Consciousnesses”, also “Invariant visual representation by single neurons in the human brain” by R. Quian Quiroga, L. Reddy, G. Kreiman, C. Koch & Fried.

[3] Andy Karr and Michael Wood, The Practice of Contemplative Photography. (Boston: Shambhala Publications, 2011), p.3.

[4] Henri Cartier-Bresson, The Mind’s Eye: Writings on Photography and Photographers, 1st edition. (New York: Aperture, 1999), p.16.

[5] Andy Karr and Michael Wood, The Practice of Contemplative Photography. (Boston: Shambhala Publications, 2011), p.41-42.

[6] As quoted in the Los Angeles Times, 13 August 1978.