The magic and mystery of light
A closer look at Clarence John Laughlin
Hey folks, just a little visual inspiration on this Sunday morning…
A curator friend, George Slade, emailed yesterday and sent this photo, saying it reminded him of me. How nice! I have admired George for years, and he has taught me a lot about photography since we connected ages ago, so I read closely. I asked George why this made him think of me, and his reply touched me: “The energy and curiosity reminded me of you. The belief in photography as something transcendent and special.” He’s right – it is. Photography can change your life.
The quote is by the photographer Clarence John Laughlin, whose name I know but whose work I have never really explored. He writes:
One of my basic feelings is that the mind, and the heart alike, of the photographer must be dedicated to the glory, the magic, and the mystery of light. The mystery of time, the magic of light, the enigma of reality – and their interrelationships – are my constant themes and preoccupations. Because of these metaphysical and poetic preoccupations, I frequently attempt to show in my work, in various ways, the unreality of the ‘real’ and the reality of the “unreal.” This may result, at times, in some disturbing effects. But art should be disturbing; it should make us both think and feel; it should infect the subconscious as well as the conscious mind; it should never allow complacency nor condone the status quo.
My central position, therefore, is one of extreme romanticism — the concept of “reality” as being, innately, mystery and magic; the intuitive awareness of the power of the “unknown” — which human beings are afraid to realize, and which none of their religious and intellectual systems can really take into account. This romanticism revolves upon the feeling that the world is far stranger than we think; that the “reality” we think we know is only a small part of a “total reality”; and that the human imagination is the key to this hidden, and more inclusive, “reality.”
Isn’t that wonderful? Years ago, I realized that my photography habit was becoming something else: it wasn’t only about picturing things with my camera and fixing those images, but about learning how to see and, above all, to see light on the surface of the world. These days, I see pictures everywhere, even without a camera, and I know many of you do as well. Perhaps this is what George was channeling when he sent me this image: how photography can bring us to a higher plane of consciousness.
Does that resonate with you? Has your photography habit heightened your awareness about the mysteries of the world? If so, how? Let me know what you think.
George’s message reminded me that I had long been aware of Clarence John Laughlin, but I didn’t know anything about his photography. Yesterday afternoon, I spent some time digging into his work. I stumbled upon Strange Light: The Photography of Clarence John Laughlin, an exhibition organized at the High Museum of Art in 2019, and thought you might enjoy it. Here’s some background:
Dubbed “The Father of American Surrealism,” Clarence John Laughlin (American, 1905-1985) was the most important Southern photographer of his time and a singular figure within the burgeoning American school of photography. Known primarily for his atmospheric depictions of decaying antebellum architecture that proliferated his hometown of New Orleans, Laughlin approached photography with a romantic, experimental eye that diverged heavily from his peers, who championed realism and social documentary.
There is a lot to look at and study on the High website, so bookmark this link and take a closer look when you have time. It’s a terrific starting point for those of you who, like me, want to know more about Laughlin’s art. He was clearly a soulful seer.
I’ll leave you with this:
blogs about photography on his Substack, and you can learn more about him on his website. Thanks again for thinking of me, George, and for inspiring me this weekend. I appreciate you!
Wow! I. Feel. Seen. Thank you so much for sharing this post and that quote. It helped me clarify some thoughts on my own work. Thank you!
So much of the work I have been doing over the last decade is abstract landscapes. Sometimes I feel like it’s hard to put into words why I do what I do and why I see how I see. I strive to make photographs with intention although my process can sometimes feel pretty random. Thanks again for writing here and being a constant source of inspiration and encouragement.
Thanks for sharing this, Andy. I take it as a mission to bring some ancients to your attention.