shootthebreezephotos-blog

[shootthebreezephotos-blog]

Ice ice baby 

[shootthebreezephotos-blog]

I have noticed in the last year or so, I have begun to take photos for instagram. Before, when I might go out and take 100 shots of dew on daffodils, or light in puddles, the only reason really was a simple joy of the capture- maybe some vague notions that maybe I’ll take a good enough one to publish (which never happened, of course.) But after I got instagram- late on in the game, after several years of mocking it- I have begun to photograph with instagram in mind. I think about the people i’ve seen who post things I like, that i’d like to reproduce, I think about hashtags and what might get likes, and I think about all the awesome people and awesome places on insta.

On the one hand, this is great. I am seeing more photos than ever, learning about new styles, new ideas about framing and colour. I can follow other awesome adventurers, get ideas about where to travel and what to see, and I’m experiencing photography in an ever-evolving trend-setting way.

On the other hand, there is lots I don’t like about Instagram, and what it does to my photography.

Firstly, instagram panders to the rich. People with lots of money, who can travel to awesome places, take photos in front of beautiful  things, wearing beautiful clothes- and pull in tens of thousands of likes because people want to have what they have. The photography, once you get past the awe of such beautiful people, such stunning backgrounds, such wonderful clothes, such fabulous lifestyle- is rather dull; it’s a portrait, usually from behind, of someone looking at a landscape. That’s it. There are so many instagram feeds that follow this formula; and people love it. Kudos to them, but I find myself beginning to take photos like they do; I focus on what they might do rather than what interests me. My photography becomes the same as everyone elses, except I don’t have lots of money, so mine are never so awesome. The problem with shooting to a hashtag is that originality gets lost in the edit.

This is a second thing about instagram- whats it for? Is it a personal space for showing friends what I’m up to, or a professional space for showing everyone else cool things? Is it to make people jealous, or to show off my talents, or to be interesting? I fight daily over this; perhaps because I am semi-pro, saddling the balance between myself and my profession makes me uneasy, like I’m selling out and not selling myself both at the same time. I’ll do a shoot and then sit for hours looking at the photos, wondering whether I should put up something funny and silly (for friends, who actually are interested in my stuff) or beautiful and edited (for the rest of insta, who aren’t that bothered but who I desperately want to be bothered.) The stress of this decision sometimes makes me so anxious I can’t sleep, and it shouldn’t.

Lastly, when I go out with instagram in mind, I aim for the obvious. I visited Wanaka last month, and quickly went for the cliche, over-done nonsense; the Wanaka Tree and Roys Peak. I scroll through thousands of images of other people visiting Wanaka and do what they did. There is no spontaneity, no discovery. I get to know how a place should be through other people’s images, and then I miss things.

So on my recent visit to Wanaka this weekend, I chose to do something not on all the tourist books. We did Rocky Mountain and Ispeth Peak, both of which were deserted- we saw perhaps 3 other people the whole day. We got up early to see the sunrise off Rocky Mountain; driving through blue twilight, with a stain of red over the eastern horizon marking the coming dawn. We had to race up the mountain to get to the summit in time; the gloomy faces of mountains emerging from the dawn light; first muted blues and then somber shades of teal, of chestnut, stripes of umber. Later, the faces were flushed rosy with the touch of the sun, the grass lands a soft gold, and the cragged slopes a dusky green. We were panting, sweating, running and swearing; reaching our destination a few minutes before the sun peered over the side of a distant mountain. The view was incredible; Lake Wanaka a silver sheen, the horizon black and white peaks rolling into yellow clouds. It was silent, except for birds and the wind. We existed, the only ones on the mountain; the only ones to see the sun up.

Later, we climbed Ispeth Peak, a mountain sitting between Lake Wanaka and Lake Hawea. It was a tough, steep climb, and a third of the way from the top was snowed in, about a meter deep. We made it to the top, peeking over the edge of Ispeth to see a moody lake Wanaka, and a storm rolling in. The clouds were bruised, shards of light coming off in all directions, scattering in golden rays around the mountains. Gusts of rain and snow could be seen grouping around other mountains, rolling towards us in ominous bursts of sunlight and brief rainbows, interceded with bitterly cold rain. The merging shades and colours were beautiful,  the faces of mountains lost and then found between racing clouds. Again, it was just us, in this epic, wide, wild landscape, the wind and the storms and the echoing space of mountain ranges. Freedom. We climbed down, wind numbed and leg-sore, as the lake sunk into sulky dusk-light. I had taken hundreds of photos in the day, and I’d never seen the things in them on instagram. A successful day.

[shootthebreezephotos-blog]

I was running up the Skyline walkway in Murchison, a steep walking track zigzagging through dense native jungle. Trees were thick with creepers and old mans beard, tree palms pushed umbrella like against New Zealand beech trees; everything was green and lush, and dripping. The silence immense. I was running pretty fast, and noticed the tree at the last minute, tirpping over it’s snake-like roots in my skidding stop. The tree’s trunk was a live with tiny mushrooms, which were being lit up with a golden beam of sunlight, like actors on a stage. As the light shone through them, they became like golden parachutes, lifting joyously from the bark, little lines of tiny umbrellas. I couldn’t help but stop, mouth wide at the perfect shapes of them. 

The forests of New Zealand are sub tropical, beautiful wild areas flush with green all year around. It was such a surprise to get here and see the thick weaves of palm leaves and creeping vines- Jurassic park country, complete with the liquid, fluting calls of bellbirds and the clicking, wheezing, singsong of tuis far above. It is a dream world here.

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The word on the street about Christchurch is that it’s a dump. 

“Oh, Christchurch.” Other travellers say dismissively. “It’s so ugly! SO many cars! So much building work. I think leave it for another 5 years and then it’ll be worth it.” Most skip past it, staying a day or two at most.

And... well, it’s true. Christchurch is a grid of busy roads, rushing drivers and dreary lights flickering red to green, red to green endlessly. Walking around it is depressing; sidewalks all over are closed for building work, abandoned buildings stand at every corner, rotting into grafettied ruins, the noise of drills and lorries fills the air from the start of the day to the end. I should hate it.

But I find here something different from anywhere else in New Zealand. Among the ruins of this earthquake-shaken city, there grows a hopeful resilience. In the broken spaces where buildings used to stand, there are suddenly community gardens and playgrounds, book swaps and art installations. There are co-op -run bike shops and office spaces, open air galleries and dance-o-mats, a whole garden full of rubbish turned into instruments. You can explore the Red Zone to find fruit where people’s gardens used to be. And there is graffiti art everywhere- every sheer building face is transformed. 

The city transforms into something vibrant and subversive; the spirit of resistance. I’ve found myself walking endlessly in the dark winter nights, draw to these spaces where community meets disaster. These photos aim to capture the Christchurch I see on my wanderings. It maybe be ugly, but there is something growing in the ruins- and it shines to be noticed.