The winter blues

“Ah, world, what lessons you prepare for us, / even in the leafless winter, / even in the ashy city. / I am thinking now / of grief, and of getting past it.” – Mary Oliver

It is another rainy day today. As of today, we officially have the wettest January on record in Rhode Island. I can definitely feel the effects from all the snow and rain we have had this winter. Winter is usually my favorite season for photography when we have the beautiful soft sunlight, but with this winter, sunlight has been hard to come by despite the lengthening of the daylight hours since the passing of winter solstice in late December. I find myself lacking the enthusiasm to go out to photograph when all I see are shades of grey coupled with constant raindrops, but not the usual snowy landscape we come to expect for winter in Southern New England.

“Now is the winter of our discontent,” William Shakespeare wrote at the opening of his play Richard III. Indeed, in the depths of the winter season, I sometimes feel powerless against the short, dark days and their unending cold. Such sluggishness is certainly supported by the rhythms of nature — winter being the time when many animals hibernate. I find myself the longer I stay dormant, the harder it becomes to get myself out of the doldrum. Especially with this winter season, because of my commitment to the MFA program, I cannot take a break with my photography practice despite the weather being gloomy. I need to look for ways to bolster my creativity in the harsh winter, and the only way I know to break out of an inertia is to keep taking action – a body in motion cannot be depressed after all.

Arming with the proverbial phrase “when life gives you lemons, make lemonade” which is used to encourage optimism and a positive can-do attitude in the face of adversity or misfortune. Lemons suggest sourness or difficulty in life; making lemonade is turning them into something positive or desirable. I tell myself to look for hope and beauty in the most unlikely places. I made an image earlier this week and it taught me a valuable lesson. A stream of water with the bright reflection runs diagonally across the frame. Along both sides of the stream, there is mud and dead leaves, they form this rough texture and is in contrast to the smooth surface of the stream. The shaft of light coming from the stream gives a sense of hope in the midst of the harsh and unwelcoming environment.

When I arrived at the scene, it was filled with mud and dead leaves. It totally lacked the visual appeal that was required for making landscape photos. I took a few images despite my hesitation, thinking there could be potentials for making a meaningful statement. The rough texture surprisingly added a lot of visual power to the composition after reviewing the images. I went back to the same location two days later after a snowstorm, the same location covered in snow became too clean and polished for the message I wished to convey.

The renowned Vietnamese Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh wrote this book called “No mud. No lotus: The art of transforming suffering”. The meaning behind the title is that without mud, the beautiful lotus flower cannot grow. This is an analogy of life—without pain or suffering, there cannot be happiness. That shaft of light from the stream makes me think of the joy and hope one can have if we were to look past the muddy path.

“When we know how to suffer, we suffer much, much less.” ~ Thich Nhat Hanh