Extended Moments

The title is taken from an essay quoted in Unreal Nature's "Catch and Release".  I read her blog this morning, and have returned to it several times through the day.  I even read the article she quotes and links to at the end.  I am not a photographer, though I do take photographs.  Ms Heyward, Felix Grant, and others, have had a running series about what is art, though I hesitate to state that as the subject because it has gone far beyond that reasonable question. An eager reader of the discussion, I normally would not venture into it.

This morning's post, however, has especially stirred my thoughts.  It brought to mind how I feel when I see a particularly good photograph, read a good book, or see a very good movie.  I'll use one of Felix's Today photo images as a beginning point.  To be honest, I don't know what the small object in the hole is, and it isn't particularly important that I do.  To me, it seems an object made by someone, and deliberately left here.

That is where I begin the "extended moments".  In my mind, I want to know more about the person who left it there, why it was left.  I want to know whether it was found by someone other than the photographer, and what it meant to that person.  In other words, the photo sets me on a series of vignettes in my mind.

A good book or movie can reach within me in a similar way.  I want to know more about the character than is shown, and not having it explicitly gives me room to make up my own stories.  I think that's one reason I don't usually enjoy sequels, either book or movie; they don't fit the stories I've already made up, or wish for the characters.

Years ago we were fortunate enough to see the Vermeer exhibit in Washington, DC.  Our friends had got us tickets ahead of our visit.  Fortunately, there was a major snowstorm the night before our tickets, but when we called, the gallery said that they were open.  As a result, the galleries were not crowded at all and I had time to stand before every painting and revel in its beauty.

I wondered about the stories beneath the paintings, just as Ms Crim did in her article did about the photo gallery of Edward Hopper and Company.  For me, that is one, of admittedly many, aspect that makes art.  Can the viewer/reader develop/create an empathy, can he feel for the people and objects?

Thanks to Ms Heyward for her writing and photography, both art that makes me think.

Comments

[Felix Grant]

I'm delighted that you don't know what the object in the hole is ... and I won't spoil the extended back story potential by telling you!

One of the most powerful "author is dead" aspects of a text (taking "text" to include anything from musical score to photograph, film, sculpture, whatever) is that the "riter" (photographer, musician...) knows */exactly/* what the backstoy is, while the "reader" (viewer, listener...) cannot. For me, there is no mystery about what that object is ... for the viewer, as I've discovered from several emailed responses, there is a great deal.

This remains true even when (as frequently happens) that viewer regards her/his interpretation (though different from my tedious knowledge) as obvious.

Thank you for using an image of mine as illustration: I'm honoured, flattered, and (artistically, intellectually, philosophically) extended.