I don't take photos.
Well, sometimes I do. But generally they are terrible and I am left wishing I hadn't desecrated the moment with my inability to capture it as I had perceived it. Instead, I have always preferred to witness things through the dual viewfinders on the front of my face. I can zoom in and pan out, capturing and developing the images in my mind before relaying them to others in the form of words. I have just always been that way. Perception is just the human version of Photoshop - images can be manipulated, altered and cropped by our internal processors.
Even photos we see must, at some stage be translated into words in order for us to be able to experience and interpret them. When we see a photograph, we make our decisions based on the colours we see. Blue sky: warm, beautiful, happy. Brooding black clouds: stormy, cold, scary. So we break images down into words to be able to feel them. For example, you can look at thousands of beautiful pictures of waves and surfers on them. But can you ever imagine what it feels like? Unlikely. With the help of words, this experiential gap narrows whilst, of course, never closing completely. The point being that what we see is just what we see. Our perception of it lies in what words we choose to apply to what we are looking at. I have always relied on my words to portray my experiences (much to the frustration of more visually-minded individuals!).
Whispers From The Plantations is an ongoing project of essays and short stories borne from my travels around Indonesia, this strange and beautiful archipelago, held together only by the spirit - and spirituality - of its inhabitants. The unusual is an everyday occurrence, observed through my incredulous eyes. A rich host of characters, a constantly rotating cast, moves effortlessly from comedy to tragedy in the blink of an eye. Beautiful experiences flutter like butterflies past my nose, constantly evading my grasp as I struggle to get a closer look. They fly away but the beauty of the moment remains, sustaining me through the horrors waiting to be revealed at the next turn. It is an ever-shifting landscape of such moments, often so fleeting they can escape the shutter of even the most diligent camera. But not the blink of an eyelid. As I register these moments, I often ponder the backstory to them. What happened to that guy's arm? Why was that little girl so hungry? How can that old man smoke like that and still be so fit? They are all discoveries, wonderful stories waiting to be revealed and retold.
Whispers From The Plantations is my own voyage of discovery, my own wonder at the visions which dart through my consciousness like snapshots framed in the window of a speeding train. Are my perceptions reality? I have no way of knowing. But I hope to be able to capture those perceptions and display them here as a means of proving to myself, if nothing else, that they existed - if only in a fleeting moment of time.
I hope, in that that way, that these stories will in turn perpetuate as stories in your own consciousness, coloured by your own perceptions and enhanced by the filters of your mind. They are, after all, merely perceptions and exist purely in your own individual reality.
RMC Lofthouse
22 March 2011
Well, sometimes I do. But generally they are terrible and I am left wishing I hadn't desecrated the moment with my inability to capture it as I had perceived it. Instead, I have always preferred to witness things through the dual viewfinders on the front of my face. I can zoom in and pan out, capturing and developing the images in my mind before relaying them to others in the form of words. I have just always been that way. Perception is just the human version of Photoshop - images can be manipulated, altered and cropped by our internal processors.
Even photos we see must, at some stage be translated into words in order for us to be able to experience and interpret them. When we see a photograph, we make our decisions based on the colours we see. Blue sky: warm, beautiful, happy. Brooding black clouds: stormy, cold, scary. So we break images down into words to be able to feel them. For example, you can look at thousands of beautiful pictures of waves and surfers on them. But can you ever imagine what it feels like? Unlikely. With the help of words, this experiential gap narrows whilst, of course, never closing completely. The point being that what we see is just what we see. Our perception of it lies in what words we choose to apply to what we are looking at. I have always relied on my words to portray my experiences (much to the frustration of more visually-minded individuals!).
Whispers From The Plantations is an ongoing project of essays and short stories borne from my travels around Indonesia, this strange and beautiful archipelago, held together only by the spirit - and spirituality - of its inhabitants. The unusual is an everyday occurrence, observed through my incredulous eyes. A rich host of characters, a constantly rotating cast, moves effortlessly from comedy to tragedy in the blink of an eye. Beautiful experiences flutter like butterflies past my nose, constantly evading my grasp as I struggle to get a closer look. They fly away but the beauty of the moment remains, sustaining me through the horrors waiting to be revealed at the next turn. It is an ever-shifting landscape of such moments, often so fleeting they can escape the shutter of even the most diligent camera. But not the blink of an eyelid. As I register these moments, I often ponder the backstory to them. What happened to that guy's arm? Why was that little girl so hungry? How can that old man smoke like that and still be so fit? They are all discoveries, wonderful stories waiting to be revealed and retold.
Whispers From The Plantations is my own voyage of discovery, my own wonder at the visions which dart through my consciousness like snapshots framed in the window of a speeding train. Are my perceptions reality? I have no way of knowing. But I hope to be able to capture those perceptions and display them here as a means of proving to myself, if nothing else, that they existed - if only in a fleeting moment of time.
I hope, in that that way, that these stories will in turn perpetuate as stories in your own consciousness, coloured by your own perceptions and enhanced by the filters of your mind. They are, after all, merely perceptions and exist purely in your own individual reality.
RMC Lofthouse
22 March 2011
