In The Slow Approach, we share individual perspectives on what it means to slow down, and how doing so can have a positive effect on our experiences as well as the images we capture.

Digital cameras, social media, and restricted travel due to the global pandemic have changed photography. These changes have given more people a chance to engage, share, and get intimate with their immediate environment. As a result, we all have more opportunities to document and share our stories.

Nature photography's history, as all history, has been dominated by the perspective of those with power, wealth, and visibility. Through that dominant narrative, nature photography became an echo chamber that repeated dramatic, remote, expansive landscapes, and shaped a cultural story that suggests cameras are a tool for colonizing continents; conquering the wilderness; capturing flora and fauna; collecting daring adventures; and competing with other photographers for recognition. 

Our culture, while shifting, has traditionally valued nature photography that represents the daring, ostentatious, and conquering perspectives over the observant, nurturing, and subtle ones. When we use cameras in this way, the purpose of nature photography demonstrates the power we have over Mother Earth’s bounty and we miss opportunities to connect more deeply.

During this time of upheaval, we can shift the culture, choose deeper connections, be more intentional, and reframe our nature photography by exploring the following concepts: relationship, reciprocity, restoration, reverence, and ritual.  

Relationship: Emergence Magazine offers an online course by Amrita Bhohi called "A Deep Dive into Spiritual Ecology." Spiritual Ecology values interconnectedness, compassion, service, stewardship, and reverence for nature. This summer, during a small group conversation on these values, a group member asked us if we ask nature’s permission before making photos. We hadn’t explicitly asked, and decided to try.

Out for a walk in my neighborhood, I noticed these tiny yellow flowers. As I approached them, I said hi and asked if I could photograph them while feeling awkward and wondering which of my small-town neighbors heard me talking to myself. But, as I asked, they began vibrating in the wind. They twirled and jumped, shining even more brightly than when I first noticed them. Once I got over the initial discomfort, I had to admit the relationship dynamics shifted and, while I don't know how the flowers felt, I felt a deeper connection to these tiny Goldfinger blossoms. 

Speaking of my experience, fellow mindful photographer, Tonya Peele, added, “I’ve learned to ask for permission. I do it in a playful way, ‘how would you like your picture taken?’ If I don’t feel alignment, the images are always off. After making an image, I end with, 'thank you for making your presence known to me'.”

Let’s remember that nature is not a subject here only for our benefit. Nature lives and breathes and deserves respect. How will you create a deeper relationship with nature next time you photograph?   

Reciprocity: As the stay-at-home orders became more oppressive this Spring, many began visiting state parks. Once quiet parks became crowded and littered with garbage. 

I found myself choosing to stay local. I hiked what I eventually discovered was private land (pre-pandemic, there were only signs that prohibited motor vehicles). One day I ran into the land steward doing maintenance. I introduced myself and asked how I could give back. After recovering from shock at being asked, she asked me to simply clear branches from trails. 

Next time I went, there were “Private Property - No Trespassing” signs posted as a result of these trails becoming crowded and littered, as well. Knowing I had permission, I hiked, photographed, and picked up every single stray branch! With increased traffic, we photographers need to shift from “do no harm/leave no trace” to “engage in reciprocity.” How will you give back to the parks, trails, and land you enjoy?

Restoration: At the end of 2016, before we had any notion of a global pandemic, I found myself living in small town MN after two decades of living in the Twin Cities. The move came unexpectedly and suddenly, and it was connected to loss of work, relationships, and identity. I struggled.

The only time I felt any sense of peace was in the woods.

One winter day, I went for a hike and started thinking about what has gotten me through some of my most difficult transitions. I thought back over the last few decades and remembered one simple thing. Breathing. 

And then I began using my breath in my photos to remind me that I could handle the pain of loss. When I used my breath, the results were unpredictable, uncontrollable, and impermanent, but finding acceptance in that was comforting. Even if you don’t breathe on your lens to create ethereal images, breathing can support you in restoring your spirit and it is also a form of reciprocity.  

Breathing is the exchange we have between plants and humans. Each time you breathe out, you are restoring the plants. Each time you breathe in, you are receiving restoration from them. Also, on a technical note, if you hand-hold your camera like I do, press the shutter on an exhale. Not only will you be giving a gift to the planet as you make your image, but you will also be relaxing your body and preventing camera shake. Breathing is a restorative practice when we are intentional, and there are many ways to bring it to your photo practice. How do you feel when being intentional about your breath as you make photos?

Reverence: I went to school for photography in the days of film and darkrooms. While I admit digital has numerous benefits, there are also downfalls. In my opinion, one of those downfalls is a problem of excess. We take more images when we’re not limited by 24 or 36 exposures. We retouch more when we can edit with the click of a button. This excess has the potential for decreasing our sensitivities to the magic that exists in our images. One way I’ve found to keep a sense of reverence is to accept nature as is, even with imperfections! Many times, I am tempted to edit out an unruly leaf, stubborn branch, or unsightly decay, and then I remember to be grateful for it all. 

Over time, I’ve learned to bring my film style of editing into the digital darkroom by looking for images that make me feel something rather than engage my mind in “problem solving.” When I let my emotions guide my image selection, I experience reverence for my surroundings, for others, and for myself. Next time you sit down to edit, ask yourself “how does this image make me feel,” rather than “what edits will I use to make this image perfect?”

Ritual: As the days got shorter and shorter and COVID case counts got higher and higher, I started feeling drained, ungrounded, and disconnected. The nerdy educator in me decided I needed a framework to guide me back into my body, nature, and photography. Using strategies that have helped me navigate personal difficulties in the past, I came up with MEMRES (memories), a ritual for making images when feeling less than inspired:

• Mindfulness: make an image of something that spontaneously catches the eye

• Emotions: make an image that reflects the most prevalent emotion felt 

• Movement: make an image that uses movement, either subject or camera

• Routine: make an image of something that depicts a routine or habit

• Experiment: make an image inspired by another photographer

• Space: make an image that takes a step back/gives a wider perspective (if this is your typical style, step in closer/give a more intimate perspective)

It’s easy to lose motivation when days all start to look the same. MEMRES gave me a reason to look at familiar surroundings in a new way. When I know I really need to get outside, but my energy is dragging, I use MEMRES to revive my energy even if I’m photographing my backyard for the millionth time. Ritual helps us get grounded and reconnect to the present moment, which has proven to be helpful in managing both change and monotony. What rituals will you use to reconnect when feeling overwhelmed? 

Each time we step outside with our cameras, we can question our intentions. Keep asking yourself, “How can I practice relationship, reciprocity, restoration, reverence, and ritual through the lens of my camera?” In this way, we will slowly reframe the purpose of nature photography and steadily shift toward a culture that also values the observant, nurturing, and subtle.