I’m on the second book by Viktor Frankl – Man’s Search for Ultimate Meaning. I usually skip forewords and prefaces but this time few sentences have caught my eye and I read Preface to the book very carefully. The offered passage is quite big but I like very much Viktor Frankl’s flow of thought towards religion. It cleared some mess in my head and I found it very helpful, well, at least for me.

* * *

The concept of religion in its widest possible sense, as it is here espoused, certainly goes far beyond the narrow concepts of God promulgated by many representatives of denominational and institutional religion. They often depict, not to say denigrate, God as a being who is primarily concerned with being believed in by the greatest possible number of believers, and along the lines of a specific creed, at that. “Just believe,” we are told, “and everything will be okay.” But alas, not only is this order based on a distortion of any sound concept of deity, but even more importantly it is doomed to failure: Obviously, there are certain activities that simply cannot be commanded, demanded, or ordered, and as it happens, the triad “faith, hope, and love” belongs to this class of activities that elude an approach with, so to speak, “command characteristics.” Faith, hope, and love cannot be established by command simply because they cannot be established at will. I cannot “will” to believe, I cannot “will” to hope, I cannot “will” to love – and at least of all can I “will” to will.

Upon closer investigation it turns out that what underlies the attempt to establish faith, hope, love, and will by command is manipulative approach. The attempt to bring these states about at will, however, is ultimately based on an inappropriate objectification and reification of these human phenomena: They are turned into mere things, into mere objects. However, since faith, hope, love, and will are so-called “intentional” acts or activities, along the lines of the terminology coined by Edmund Husserl and Max Scheler, the founders of the school of “phenomenology”, these activities are directed to “intentional” referents – in other words, to objects of their own. To the extent that one makes intentional acts into objects, he loses sight of their objects. Nowhere, to my knowledge, is this brought home to us more strikingly than with the uniquely human phenomenon of laughter: You cannot order anyone to laugh – if you want him to laugh, you must tell him a joke.

But isn’t it, in a way, the same with religion? If you want people to have faith and belief in God, you cannot rely on preaching along the lines of a particular church but must, in the first place, portray your God believably – and you must act credibly yourself. In other words, you have to do very opposite of what so often is done by representatives of organized religion when they build up an image of God as someone who is primarily interested in being believed in and who is rigorously insists that those who believe in him be affiliated with a particular church. Small wonder that such representatives of religion behave as though the saw the main task of their own denomination as that of overriding other denominations.

Certainly the trend is away from religion conceived in such a strictly denominational sense. Yet this is not to imply that, eventually, there will be a universal religion. On the contrary, if religion is to survive, it will have to be profoundly personalized…

To all appearances, religion is not dying, and insofar as this is true, God is not dead either, not even “after Auschwitz,” to quote the title of a book. For either belief in God is unconditional or it is not belief at all. If it is unconditional it will stand and face that six million died in the Nazi holocaust; if it is not unconditional it will fall away if only a single innocent child has to die – to resort to an argument once advanced by Dostoevski. There is no pint in bargaining with God, say, by arguing: “Up to six thousand or even one million victims in the holocaust I maintain my belief in Thee; but from one million upward nothing can be done any longer, and I am sorry but I must renounce my belief in Thee.”

The truth is that among those who actually went through the experience of Auschwitz, the number of those whose religious life was deepened – in spite of, not because of, this experience – by far exceeds the number of those who gave up their belief. To paraphrase what La Rochefoucauld once remarked with regard to love, one might say that just as the small fire is extinguished by the storm while a large fire is enhanced by it – likewise a weak faith is weakened by predicaments and catastrophes, whereas a strong faith is strengthened by them.

Viktor Frankl
Preface to the First English Edition
Man’s Search for Ultimate Meaning

I’m reading Man’s Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl and I cannot put it down. I am a fast reader and usually I quickly scan page after page. Here I found myself reading and re-reading paragraphs and pages again and again. I wish I have read this book when I was sixteen. I realize now how much we were deprived of books back in the Soviet Union even though we were “the most reading nation”. But that is another story.

Viktor Frankl was an extraordinary man. Like so many Jews during World War II he was cast into the Nazi network of concentration camps. Miraculously, he survived. Later he became an accomplished scientist, the founder of Logotherapy and Existential Analysis, a meaning-centered and humanistic approach to psychotherapy. In his book Viktor Frankl describes his experiences as a concentration camp prisoner and offers his way in finding meaning in life, even it is lived in the most sordid conditions. He quotes the words of Nietzshe: “He who has a Why to live for can bear almost any How.” The prisoners who gave up on life, who had lost all hope for future, who had lost the Why were doomed. They were dying less than from lack of food or medicine but rather from lack of hope, lack of something to live for. As terrible as it was, Viktor Frankl’s experience in concentration camps had brought him to his most powerful idea: life is not a quest for pleasure and happiness, but quest for meaning.

* * *

What was really needed was a fundamental change in our attitude toward life. We have to learn ourselves and, furthermore, we had to teach the despairing men, that it did not really matter what we expected from life, but rather what life expected from us. We needed to stop asking about the meaning of life, and instead to think of ourselves as those who were being questioned by life – daily and hourly. Our answer must consist, not in talk and meditation, but in right action and in right conduct. Life ultimately means taking the responsibility to find the right answer to its problems and to fulfill the tasks which it constantly sets for each individual.

These tasks, and therefore the meaning of life, differ from man to man, and from moment to moment. Thus it is impossible to define the meaning of life in a general way. Questions about meaning of life can never be answered by sweeping statements. “Life” does not mean something vague, but something very real and concrete, just as life’s tasks are also very real and concrete. They form man’s destiny, which is different and unique for each individual. No man and no destiny can be compared with any other man or any other destiny. No situation repeats itself, and each situation calls for a different response. Sometimes the situation in which a man finds himself may require him to shape his own fate by action. At other times it is more advantageous for him to make use of an opportunity for contemplation and to realize assets in this way. Sometimes man may be required simply to accept fate, to bear his cross. Every situation is distinguished by its uniqueness, and there is always only one right answer to the problem posed by the situation at hand.

When a man finds that it is his destiny to suffer, he will have to accept his suffering as his task; his single and unique task. He will have to acknowledge the fact that even in suffering he is unique and alone in the universe. No one can relieve him of his suffering or suffer in his place. His unique opportunity lies in the way in which he bears his burden.

For us, as prisoners, these thoughts were not speculations far removed from reality. They were the only thoughts that could be help to us. They kept us from despair, even when there seemed to be no chance of coming out of it alive. Long ago we had passed the stage of asking what was the meaning of life, a naive query which understands life as the attaining of some aim through the active creation of something of value. For us, the meaning of life embraced the wider cycles of life and death, of suffering and of dying.

* * *

…the story of the young woman whose death I witnessed in a concentration camp. It is a simple story. There is little to tell and it may sound as if I had invented it; but to me it seems like a poem.

This young woman knew that she would die in the next few days. But when I talked to her she was cheerful in spite of this knowledge. “I am grateful that fate has hit me so hard,” she told me. “In my former life I was spoiled and did not take spiritual accomplishments seriously.” Pointing through the windows of the hut, she said, “This tree here is the only friend I have in my loneliness.” Through that window she could see just a branch of a chestnut tree, and on the branch were two blossoms. “I often talk to this tree,” she said to me. I was startled and didn’t quite know how to take her words. Was she delirious? Did she have occasional hallucinations? Anxiously I asked her if the tree replied. “Yes.” What did it say to her? She answered, “It said to me, ‘I am here — I am here — I am life, eternal life.’”

Bosque del Apache is national wildlife refuge just one and half hours south on I-25 from Albuquerque in New Mexico. Here, in lakes and marshes along Rio Grande River is a place where tens of thousands of migratory birds including sandhill cranes, Arctic geese, and many kinds of ducks gather each fall and stay through the winter.

The most spectacular thing to watch in Bosque del Apache is the morning flyout. It occurs at sunrise when the first rays of ascending sun hit the Rio Grande valley. Exactly at this moment every morning thousands of geese wake up and take off simultaneously in one thunderous explosion of thousands of wings. It sounds like a jet fighter taking off. It is an awesome sight: the pond empties in only a few seconds, and multiple layers of geese fly low overhead at different altitudes and slightly different headings, frantically calling and honking to keep family groups together.

Bosque del Apache is prime spot for congregation of bird photographers as well. They flock here in dozens and line up every morning along the pond waiting for the flyout. With expensive cameras and huge telephoto lenses. It is a photographic subculture. Everybody seems to know everybody. They come to Bosque del Apache year after year. Oh, and if you have lens less than 400mm you are, well, not really cool.

I was there too. Following the crowd I mounted the biggest telephoto lens I have on my camera and set it up on a tripod. Made several frames waiting for the flyout. And then it came to me – the main subject is not the birds, it is the photographers. Their grotesque silhouettes and silhouettes of their tripods against the bright hues of sunrise sky created a perfect picture. I quickly changed telephoto to wide angle lens on my camera and literally started to crawl on the ground looking for the right composition. I found it with one of the photographers using his handheld medium format camera surrounded with his other two cameras on tripods. And at this moment the flyout happened. It lasted only few seconds but I’ve got my picture: a silhouette of photographer against the mass of ascending birds in the morning sky.

BK: You once mentioned to me, and I think it’s a great term, that you try to make your prints “sing”.

JS: I think a print should invite the viewer to look at it, engage the viewer, and sustain the viewer’s attention. I have seen prints by others – and perhaps a few that I’ve done myself – that have etched themselves into my mind’s eye, and find it difficult to stop looking at the print. Occasionally I have seen black-and-white photographic prints that appear to be illuminated from within, that seem to have a life of their own beyond that of the subject matter, a radiant energy and luminosity. I like to think of the process of photography being as much about “listening” as it is about looking. Not necessarily listening with one’s ears, but being receptive with one’s being.

BK: Not looking, but seeing.

JS: Exactly. Experiencing what is in the image itself, in the light, in the dark, in the shades of gray. Just as music is not only the notes – but the silence and the resonance between the notes – the same applies to a photograph. If you’re lucky and everything comes together there’s an ambience, a radiance, of not just luminosity, but of inspiration.

BK: So do you think a great photograph is about the feeling it evokes?

JS: Absolutely. You can have a piece of writing that tells a story in a concise and compelling way and is quite informational. You can also have a piece of writing that tells the same story, but it’s inspirational. The latter will be the story that will be remembered. It’s not just about information, it’s about the ability to inspire – to expand one’s knowledge, awareness, and understanding. I think that great writing, great music, great photographs, great paintings, have a universal quality. I don’t know that you can consciously interject that into an image – the only way you might be fortunate enough to occasionally accomplish that is to make a lot of photographs.

BK: How important do you think it is in life to be inspired?

JS: I think that inspiration is a positive force in the world and is something that human beings can bring to the planet. Inspiration stimulates hope – it’s hope for a better future, it’s hope that tomorrow I’ll feel like I’ve done something better than today. I think that photography can, in an uplifting way, show us a promise of a better tomorrow. It can also, in a terrifying way, show us the importance of things that didn’t go right – it can inspire us to prevent those things from happening again. In the best circumstances I think we can inspire one another, and when you’re inspired you have the opportunity to do something worthwhile.

An Interview with John Sexton
Interviewed by Brian Klligrew
LensWork No. 46

One gloomy October afternoon I found myself on a Staten Island ferry going back to Manhattan. It was about to rain, low heavy clouds cloaked New York leaving no hope for sun, oozing sense of despair into a humid cold air. And then I saw a torch glowing with warm orange light. It was Statue of Liberty. I found a clear spot in scratched ferry window and made several frames. Unconsciously I selected a composition which wasn’t aimed to show Statue of Liberty but rather its glowing torch tiny from the distance. It boldly but helplessly tried to illuminate approaching darkness of night. There is always a hope.

Ultimately, man should not ask what the meaning of his life is, rather must recognize that is he who is asked. In a word, each man is questioned by life; and he can only answer to life by answering for his own life; to life he can only respond by being responsible.

Viktor Frankl

What is it that you want? That is a simple question. What do you want in your life? Everyone has an angel behind his or her back waiting for you to spell out the answer to this question. He would be glad to listen to you and make you wish true, but what is it? Can you put it into words, in one simple sentence – what is it that you want?

You may start thinking about world peace or bringing back health to your loved ones. No. That is the God’s job, angels do miracles but little ones and they do it only for you. In fact they are not that powerful, they cannot do miracles in a finger snap, they need your help. They can guide you along the path, they can save you from falling into abyss, but you are the one who has to walk this path.

I guess that where the word happiness comes in. We all want to be happy. And we are not that original in that desire. Twenty-three hundred years ago Aristotle concluded that, more than anything else, men and women want happiness. But what is happiness? We all want health, beauty, money, power and million other things because we expect that it will make us happy. But even those who beautiful, rich and powerful are often end up feeling that their lives have been wasted, that instead of being filled with happiness their years were spent in anxiety and boredom. The thing is that they have not walked the path, they received all these gifts without even wanting them. We don’t value things that are easy to get or given to us as a by fortune or random chance.

You cannot reach happiness by consciously searching for it. The truth is that walking the path makes us happy. The path to the goal we set to ourselves answering a simple question – what is it that you want? You have to have a goal before you find the path. You have to have a desire to reach this goal and follow the path. But here is the secret of all secrets – there is no a direct route to your goal. Viktor Frankl, the Austrian psychologist, summarized it beautifully in the preface to his book “Man’s Search for Meaning“:

Don’t aim at success – the more you aim at it and make a target, the more you are going to miss it. For success, for happiness, cannot be pursued; it must ensue as the unintended side-effect of one’s personal dedication to a course greater than oneself.

… to be continued, hopefully

There is nothing new under the sun, not really. Technologies are new, yes, but the basic human condition has not changed for thousands of years. The same passions rule us that ruled early man. The same questions plague us that have plagued our ancestors from time immemorial. This is, and always has been, the source of great art. Who am I? Where is it? Why? (Or as the philosopher Alan Watts has proposed, there are only four great questions that have plagued man forever: 1) Who started it? 2) Where’s it going? 3) How will it end? 4) Who’s going to clean it up?)

It seems that photography presents us a unique choice in the field of art. We can work to find something new that has never been photographed before and claim it as our unique photographic turf. Or, we can accept the challenge to use our tools as merely tools and come to the realization that the real task of being a photographer is to develop ourselves as conduits for inspiration that creates artwork. One path leads to tomorrow’s cliche. The other path leads to artwork that seems to last. One eventually looks easy; the other looks forever profound.

Photography is unique when compared to so many of traditional art media because it is so wrapped up with this question. Photography is the most technological of all media. The technology of photography is seductive. It’s fun! But if we hope to make art without our tools, the issues that should command our attention most ardently are not the technological ones but rather the issues of wonderment, mystery and depth. We are not making suits of armor. Our tools will never dazzle with technical brilliance, at least not for long. The future generation will look back at our prints, our books, our techniques and our tools with the same quaint smile that we use when considering albumen prints and wet plates. They will never wonder how we did it. They will wonder how we could suffer such primitive techniques.

And this is where the life of the photographic artist begins. Our work will entertain them in its technological coarseness or cultural historicity, or it will engage them in the deeper questions of life. Our work will either show them our world, or ask them about theirs.

This is precisely why I love photography. It is a tool, but it is also a challenge that constantly forces me to think about what I am doing, what I am making and why.

Brooks Jensen
The Magic of It
LensWork No. 38

Once I had a chance to participate in online conversation with well-known Russian photographer Sergey Maximishin. The subject was on photographic composition. In short, Sergey’s point was that a good composition should have several visual attractors connected together in a closed loop forming some sort of polygon. Viewer’s attention moves from one visual attractor to another, but he is never forced away, outside the frame of the photograph. Moving in a closed loop visual perception works like a corkscrew following the spiral in deeper understanding and appreciation of the photograph.

In my photograph from Oia in Santorini I believe I constructed such a loop, a polygon: windmill, blue arch with a cross, following a rope from a bell you get to a blue vase, then cloth line with colorful red spreads swaying in a wind leads you to lower left corner from where your visual attention jumps back to the windmill. I think an integral part of this polygon is the rope from the bell to the blue vase. Otherwise horizontal lines formed by a structure of the building would have overpowered the composition.

On a personal note I don’t think that closed loop composition in a photograph works for me. I believe that we perceive pictures on a subconscious level in a split of second; the rest is just “an elaborate post-hoc rationalization” which we call consciousness. We think that we need time to understand the picture, go around it in a loop or a spiral when in fact we need time to rationalize our subconscious first impression of the picture. So, in my view my task as a photographer is produce photographs with “killer” compositions which are simple, powerful and bold. That kind of composition gives a “knockdown” to visual perception of a viewer. Later he may go in loops and spirals around my photograph but that is later, that is the next layer of visual perception. Ultimately a perfect photograph should be like a Newton’s apple which hits you in a head and which later could be slowly eaten satisfying your eyes with its round form and red and yellow color and your taste buds with its sweet zest. And hopefully that apple can open door for you to new ideas or powerful emotions.

I’ve learned over the years that usually the first thing that The Photo Gods show you is the cliche – that is, the most obvious photograph. I’ve learned that I usually have to take that picture in order to move on.

I think something that has not been widely talked about is that here is a great deal of self-doubt, and it is a part of the creative process. If you’re comfortable with what you are doing, you’ve been there before. We all fall back on things that are comfortable. It’s human tradition.

Jerry Uelsmann
A Conversation with Jerry Uelsmann
Interviewed by Brooks Jensen
LensWork No.17