Stealing the soul from the soil

Some believe that photographing sentient beings steals their souls. Others that it offends God. Even the words “taking” a photo, “capturing” that perfect image, the “screen grab” suggest appropriation. But what about photographing places? If you believe in Panpsychism, in which even the most elementary particles have an embryonic sentience, a soul, then maybe the same is true. I enjoy many many images from my camera that, thanks to social media, remind me of where I was last year or ten years ago, and maybe help to prevent cognitive decline. More importantly, I hope, these images of favourite places in Cymru, and elsewhere, respect the stories of the people who previously worked and suffered on those lands. But am I still stealing the soul of the soil?

Travelling in South Asia some years ago, I was aware of the unashamed “Grabbers” in the tour group. As they loped like a camel caravan, indiscreetly, through markets, temples, monasteries and funeral pyres, with long lenses stretched out in front of them as they went, they reminded me of the big game hunters of old. In villages and age-old religious festivals they thrust their lenses in the faces of anyone who was in the way, who would unwittingly have their souls added to the grabbers' collection of trophies. How much mountain lore too speaks of appropriation? The Conquest of Everest comes to mind, “Veni, vidi, vici”,  a mantra attributed to Caesar. I came, I saw, I conquered - with my camera? "Ddes i, weles i, treches i". At least in Cymraeg, you don't 'take' a photograph, you draw a photo. At risk of seeing semantic subtlety through the rose-tinted varifocals of a variety of Orientalism, you don't own things, they are with you. "Mae gen i gar: there is a car with me". A different way of thinking. 

But am I any different to those grabbers? Obsessive gathering of images, waiting for that perfect light, for the sun to be behind the cloud at the right moment, doesn't always suit my walking companions, who have crossed the horizon before I've put the camera away. Small wonder that images of people in my photos generally show long-distance views from behind.

The enormous slate quarries, that famously "roofed the World", have become theme parks, adventure centres or industrial curiosities. Yes we have walked the recently UNESCO promoted Slate Trails. A quick glance at online reviews of these 'destinations' suggests many come just for the view, to undertake the latest dangerous dare in the ruins, or to take a winning photo. These reviews give little attention, if any, to the history. Some of my partner's family at one time would have suffered hideously long commutes to work, walking many miles over rocky mountain passes. It seems impertinent to say they took it in their stride in those days. Staying in cold windlowless barracks high up on the mountian. Home to the matrimonial home on Saturday afternoons with the expectation of creating another generation of workers for the quarry face. This is why I prefer to talk of Slate Pilgrimages, hoping my visits are done with respect to the ghosts in the galleries, the spirits in the stones.

It's important for me to distinguish between walking with the aim of ticking a box, and quietly wandering and noticing what's around (psychogeography). On a local guided walk, the psychogeographer suggested chatting less, and looking down more, to notice what's beneath the feet. When psychogeography literature is illustrated, it's rarely with scenic landscapes, but more often by the superficially mundane to highlight hidden histories and connections.

Doubting is good for the soul.

Links

Panpsychism - Wikipedia

Real Gwynedd | Seren Books

Orientalism: A Critical Introduction & Analysis (sociologygroup.com)