VISUAL CONNOTATIONS: I – Of Illusions in the Mind’s ‘Eye’

 

Ever since early childhood, I have watched clouds. As a photographer, I have added to this predilection the watching of waves, flowing water, patterns in sand, and more. As photographers, we are all essentially searchers for patterns of light.

 

All we see is light and nothing but light. Our visual experiences are based entirely on the reception of reflected, refracted, dispersed, diffracted light. The only addition to the sensation of vision is twofold. Firstly, analysis and interpretation by our visual cortex in the brain takes place of the impulses delivered from our retinal cells in the eyes by nerves. Then, possible ‘editing’ by our imagination follows this. We do not see a tree in front of us; we simply perceive light that has bounced off an object that absorbs some wavelengths of sunlight and not others, scatters some wavelengths but not all. Our mind, however, pretends that the object is actually there, that it is in reality what it seems to us – that is, a real, genuine tree and not a meaningless simulacrum or a figment of our imagination.

 

Our mind can do nothing else; for without this interpretation by our visual system that some of the patterns of light that we perceive indicate the presence of real objects (important as food, predators, shelter, for example), sight as an adapted sense could not have evolved. However, should we ever be able to interrogate a different species about what it sees, the answer we receive would astound us.

 

And so, from the very beginning, all sensations, not only sight, were limited to the perception of the stimuli provided by the patterns of the world and not the processes, the emergent patterns only resulting from underlying formative processes that are hinted at but that remain elusive. We humans are obsessed with pattern, in particular the diversity of patterns. For us, a miniscule difference between two otherwise matching patterns is imbued inevitably with interest, with importance; distinctions always indicate a significance for which we want to ‘know’ the reason. Identical patters too are significant because they represent another food item, another predator or another mate, for example. Our minds focus on difference and similarity.

 

Our attempts to set boundaries and to classify our experiences of the world around us probably are as ancient as the advent of our nervous systems, certainly as old as the advent of language. Just as ancient as language as well are our problems with our classification systems – if something fits here, it necessarily does not belong there – and thus the struggle begins to shoehorn objects, concepts and experiences into rigid frameworks of classification, usually arranged hierarchically to reflect some more of our mind’s biases. Alternatively, we hack liberally at existing categories, cleaving away ever-smaller pockets to house our favoured items, and so populating our classifications with sub-, meta- and hyper-taxa. Consequently, our perception of the world has become categorised into discrete entities, and we have lost the ability to perceive the fundamental unity of process that has shaped every pattern that we can sense in our surrounding.

 

Of course, this endeavour of classification does not end with the inanimate and animate world, but extends, by use and habit, into our own human existence and into our relationships with other humans. Since we focus intensely on the distinctions between patterns, we are often convinced that the boundaries we imagine and construct in our minds and knowledge are real; they are a true representation of hiatuses in reality, even in otherwise continuous patterns and processes. From there, it becomes almost inevitable that we should set and reinforce with significance the boundaries that we believe will be of help to us while we attempt to keep our own group safe and separate from the barbarians at the gate.

 

So, two quirks of our mind and our experiences, the hiatus between reality and our sensory experience of it and our mind’s obsession with pattern and boundaries, amalgamate with devastating outcome to limit our knowledge and imagination. It is the confusion and conflation of process and pattern that can and does befuddle our minds. Simple and well-known illustrations of our minds’ predispositions are optical illusions of various kinds.

 

Illusions, in general, are defined as instances of the perception and interpretation of sensory experiences that give rise to misrepresentations of reality – instances during which the experience differs from actuality. Illusions are not faults of our sensory systems; they indicate the physical and biological restraints of our systems and of our cognitive interpretation of the sensory stimulation received.

 

Optical illusions are a subset of sensory illusions; they are illusions arising from the workings of our visual system. Some so-called optical illusions are not really illusions as defined since they do not lead to misrepresentations of reality. Examples include the ‘bending’ of the straw as you immerse it in a glass of water, and the fact that ‘in reality’ the sun is already located beneath the horizon while you can still see it above the horizon at sunset.

 

These physical optical ‘illusions’ are really optical phenomena that arise when light is refracted as it travels across the boundary between media of differing optical densities. These are ‘strange’ realities and not faults of the visual system or a result of misinterpretation by our minds. The less strange optical phenomena like the dispersion of light in rainbows or halos do not qualify as optical illusions at all; yet in the process of the interaction of light with matter there is no significant difference between these less peculiar observations and instances of the ‘illusions’ of the refraction of light.

 

The fascinating, often mesmerising, misrepresentations of reality, the truly illusory visual experiences, are the result of ambiguities that arise in the processing and interpretation of the visual information received by the brain. These ambiguities are often triggered by unconscious assumptions and inferences of what the information ‘pictures’.

 

In the second instalment, I will explore further the illusions our minds experience or conjure up, and the implications that the human mind’s phenomenal ability at pattern recognition (and misrecognition) hold for the visual arts, including the craft of photography.

A GRASS MENAGERIE: II - The Inhabitants of the Grasslands

In essence, the smaller denizens of the grasslands (including the myriad of insects inhabiting this biome) live in a forest-like environment – not under a canopy of leaves and between tree trunks, but rather between the culms and the inflorescences of the taller grasses. Their environment is dense and provides for ample opportunities either to shelter or to escape from predators. 

Moreover, these smaller organisms, experience subtle stratification of the environmental factors (such as light intensity, temperature and humidity) from ground level upwards to the top layer of the grasses. These littlies can move up and down in their environment to modify, albeit very slightly, the influence on their tiny bodies of a few environmental factors. For example, any small motile animals living in the grasslands can escape the heat of a summer’s day by moving down to the shaded ground level; they can escape desiccating winds, again by sheltering at the bases of the grasses. Despite these advantages, the differences between day and night are significant and can prove to be challenging to the small inhabitants; at night the grasslands become much colder, as a lot of heat is re-radiated to outer space, while far less heat is trapped in the sparse biomass of the vegetation. Of course, for the larger animals the grasslands are essentially two-dimensional environments, with the subtle changes in environmental conditions proving insignificant (apart from changes from day to night).

For many animal species, the grasslands become uninhabitable during the winter seasons. In general, two responses have evolved to this challenge. Those motile organisms that can not cope with the prolonged dry, cold times will migrate to areas that are more amenable in environmental conditions. The larger herbivores often partake in long-distance migrations, following the patchy and intermittent rainfall. Many bird species are trans-equatorial migrants, using long-distance flight to inhabit grasslands only during the wetter summer months in both hemispheres.

Many of the smaller organisms that are not able to escape from the rigours of the winter season by migration over large distances enter a period of dormancy, often for significant stretches of time. In regions of the planet with warmer climates, many insects living exclusively in grasslands aestivate during the most arid months. Populations of active insects will fluctuate in number seasonally; moreover, the occurrence of large, stable populations of insects in local areas of grasslands tends to be less predictable than in other biomes. A number of insect taxa do cope well with the environmental conditions in grasslands. These include orders of insects such as the Orthoptera (including grasshoppers and locusts) and the Hymenoptera (including ants). The very successful insects consume the leaves of grasses themselves, or they harvest, store and consume the grass seeds.

For the much larger vertebrate herbivores that inhabit the grasslands, food is present in abundance, provided the animals can graze the grasses themselves, feed on the grass seeds or select the herbs nestling deeper down between the grasses. Although the biodiversity of grassland plants is generally very high, the vegetation types available for herbivores is limited to grasses and smaller, usually non-woody flowering plants that grow here. Consequently, the diversity of animal life that is supported by grasslands is impoverished (in general) when compared to other biomes like the woodlands and forests, at least in terms of the number of species that inhabit the grasslands. This is not necessarily the case in terms of the number of individuals that live in the grasslands, since adaptation to this periodic environment has occurred in many groups of organisms (such as the grasses themselves, and the flock-forming seed-eating birds and the herd-forming grazing antelopes).

Amongst the numerous antelope species living in grasslands and open savannas, an interesting correlation exists between the size of individuals of a species and the social behaviour that has evolved in that species. The smaller browsers and grazers require vegetable food sources of high nutritional quality. Their bodies have a small volume compared to their surface area. To keep fuelling the high rate of cellular respiration required to maintain a constant and high core body temperature, these small antelope must be highly selective in the food that they consume. Therefore, small antelope species are solitary or live in small family groups.

In the much bigger herbivores, the quality of the food is not that vital. Inherent in the large size is a decreased ratio between the surface area of the organism and its volume that allows for a slower basal metabolic rate than that found in smaller species. With a small surface area compared to volume, large organisms are not faced with excessive heat loss through their skin. At the same time, the larger volume allows for the digestion of the food to proceed at a slower pace. Large antelope can graze grasses and allow the digestion to take place over time; hence the evolution of multi-chambered stomachs and the behaviour of chewing the cud in the antelope species. The alternative strategy, seen in horses and zebras, for example, involves the evolution of a large caecum; in essence, this is a spacious storage vat in the hindgut in which vegetation can be decomposed by bacterial action. Whatever the anatomy of these larger herbivores, they can survive easily in vast herds since the food they consume is more easily available, albeit of low nutritional value.

Add to this another benefit: the relatively low height of the grassland vegetation allows for vigilance against predators for the larger animal species. Living in a large group means more eyes and ears, as well as a smaller chance that a particular attack by predators will result in the death of any one of the members of the group. (Of course, one of us will die, but the chance of it being I is lessened in a large group.) The ability to live in larger herds has necessitated some form of herd co-operation and control that is complex enough to promote social cohesion, especially during courtship and mating. So vast herds of large grazers occupy the grassland environment, tracking the intermittent rainfall in spectacular long-distance migrations. Their predators, too, follow the migrations, but to a lesser extent – territoriality between carnivores well-equipped with the weapons of their trade can be intense and will limit the movement of groups of predators.

Another feature vital for the survival of mammalian herbivores in grasslands is the production of precocial young, that is, babies that are fully functional very soon after birth. The gestation periods of grassland herbivores is lengthened, in general, and the newborn is able to be on its feet and run with the herd within minutes after birth. In the smaller herbivores, where no herd behaviour is found, the young are precocial nevertheless, although they will often hide in denser vegetation or denser patches of grassland near where the mother is feeding.

The lack of tall vegetation in which predators can conceal themselves has necessitated the evolution of larger carnivores that can run down their prey, rather than relying on concealment and a pounce at close quarters. Three strategies in hunting prey among the larger carnivores prevail in grasslands: sheer speed of pursuit, endurance of long-distance chasers or the use of elaborate hunting strategies in larger social units of predators. Predators that rely only on speed still live either as solitary individuals or in small family groups, usually a female and her offspring only. This is often not the case with the two other groups – the long-distance chasers and the strategic hunters both require the co-operation of several members of the group in order to kill prey. This interdependence of members of a group for effective hunting goes hand in hand with more complex and elaborate social behaviour. Maintaining co-operation in a pack or pride requires social interactions that promote group cohesion, such as appeasement behaviours and social ranking of individuals within the group. Invariably, a hierarchical social system develops in these predatory species.

For the rodents, the omnivores and the smaller carnivores of the grasslands, shelter from the harsh environment, concealment from predators, or safety during reproduction is often found in burrows. The grassland environment, with its relatively deep soils and the top layer of the soil knitted together by the adventitious root systems of the grasses allows deep tunnel systems to be excavated by many animals that have the strength and the equipment (such as large claws) to do so. Subsequent occupation of the burrows by a host of other species – comprising individuals that themselves can not dig effectively – means that these tunnel systems often stay in use for long periods.

Photographing wildlife in grasslands is challenging. The larger species (mammals and birds) will flee readily and they can not be approached without difficulty. The unpredictability of the occurrence in any specific area of larger animal species can be taxing too. For me, portraying the grasslands has remained a test that I accept with glee. To display the magnificence of this biome and its menagerie of inhabitants will remain a special privilege always – particularly so since I too am an original inhabitant of the Highveld’s grasslands.

WILD IMAG(E) IN A(C)TION: II – You and Your Images

In this (and the next two) blogs in this series, I will mention and discuss very briefly a few opinions and suggestions on the subject of photography (particularly, but not limited to, of fauna, flora and the environment). I revisit these musings regularly to remind myself repeatedly that I need to keep on honing my craft. The points I raise in this blog deal with my readiness and attitude as a photographer.

1.         Are YOU in the picture?

Photography is just as much about knowing yourself as it is about knowing the technicalities of the photographic process and knowing your subject. An exciting image will reflect your ideas, your passions, and your interaction with and response to the subject matter.

The process of capturing an image starts with a personal observation and is followed by a deliberate selection of what must be included and what must be excluded from the frame to ‘create’ the final composition. The final, chosen image is selected deliberately from among the infinite number of other possible compositions that confront you. As the photographer, you decide exactly which smidgen of the reality that you are looking at to include in the photograph – all else, the rest of reality, is excluded from the frame. As a consequence of your decisions, you yourself become a vital ingredient in any photograph that you capture.

You will communicate much about yourself to your audience. What is it that attracted you to that particular selected image? How do you feel about the subject you are photographing? What interpretation(s) are you giving to your observation? You can simply state, “This is exhibit A”. But you could also state, “This is exhibit A and ... because ... since ...  So, viewer, take a second, closer and longer look!” All great images force the viewer to do the latter, and all lasting images give us hints about the photographer's state of mind. Thus the photographer's observation, interpretation and intention are transmitted to the audience via the image.

Always remember that the audience you wish to entice to spend some time looking at your photographs is intelligent and visually literate to a high degree. This is the audience you want to attract, the individuals with whom you wish to communicate. These are the people who will give you the necessary feedback about your success and standing as a photographer. More importantly, they will show you how you can develop and refine your craft further still.

2.         Ah, there you are!

All images with impact have been previsualised to a greater or lesser degree. A good photographer understands her intentions and is searching her surroundings constantly for the next final selection that will be captured as a photograph. Such previsualisation (which requires much imagination and thought) is a bit easier to engage in with a static subject or one that can be manipulated and controlled in the studio or even outdoors, a subject that does not vanish in an instant. However, even in environmental photography, which relies very heavily on chance and split-second decision-taking, the good photographer knows beforehand what she is seeking. “This is the image that would satisfy my need to express myself about this subject. How do I go about finding and capturing it?” “This is what I need to say. What composition will convey this message best?” Even if previsualisation is as brief as “How can I best use this splendid light?” or “Where can I go from here to get the best shot?”, visual preparation is vital. You need to ‘see’ the image in your imagination before you attempt to capture it.

Effective previsualisation requires planning. Merely travelling around, seeing what you can snap up is challenging and fun, but without previsualisation this process will always remain one of documentation only. Before you travel to any destination in search of photographs (even your own backyard) or, failing that, while you are already on the way, ask yourself a few questions to kick-start the process of previsualisation.

If you are travelling to a known destination, plan carefully. “What am I likely to encounter and where? What is it that I am hoping to find? What could happen? What could I see? How will I be affected by my travel experience?” On the other hand, if the destination is new to you, questions should likely be “Why am I going there? What can I expect? What will happen if...?”

Previsualisation also means knowing your subject well, be it a person, an inanimate object, a place, a landscape, or a particular species that you are after, for example. Your subject may solely be the light or it may be a process that you wish to capture and share in an image. What do you want to express? What intrigues you? What is your opinion on the matter? What is it about this subject that took your breath away initially?

There are dangers involved with previsualisation. Never become too rigid in your response to a situation because of your previsualisation. Never miss those images that simply PING! unexpectedly. Never despair because the weather or the light are not what you had hoped for, or because your favourite species has not appeared. Use the prevailing conditions and start previsualising anew. Effective previsualisation is an unceasing and fluid activity. Always leave room for those most magical of ingredients, spontaneity and serendipity.

3.         Oops! Are you here too?

By choice, I call myself an environmental photographer. My subject matter includes the fauna and flora, as well as the patterns and processes of the environment in which they are embedded. This third point of the blog applies particularly to photographers with a similar interest. However, with a little thought and application, the point can be applied to almost all photographic subjects or genres.

There is a glut of wildlife and landscape photography in the media and on the market. Some of it is excellent; some of it is valuable as natural history documentation. Sadly, the overwhelming majority of images on display (particularly on social media) simply do not qualify as good photographs because they do not engage the viewer actively; they communicate very little – other than the obvious identification of a particular subject.

This mind-numbing bombardment of pictures can become overwhelming and discouraging (if not infuriating) for many reasons. For me there are two important challenges that confront photographers that are at the start of their photographic journey (particularly so young photographers). Faced with this stream of snaps, you need to remind yourself that only a small subset of people who use a camera (in the broadest sense of any available image-capturing device) actually comprises photographers. Always go out of your way to illicit feedback (positive and negative) from the photographers you admire the most. Judging your ‘success’ (or otherwise) by the number of ‘likes’ that your images attract on social media platforms is misguided at best. Chasing hollow praise can become debilitating and can become ruinous to the development and enhancement of any real talent. It is never the number of likes, comments, friends or followers (on social media particularly) that will indicate in any meaningful and helpful way your competence and growth as a photographer – these indicators will simply tell you how popular you are. Rather, it is a matter of WHO has given you a positive comment, encouragement or constructive criticism. The honest opinion of a good photographer outweighs all else.

Also, remember that the public (which may or may not include competent photographers) will be wowed for all time by depictions of certain ‘subjects’, irrespective of the photographic merit of the pictures. Cats, dogs, kids, breakfast meals, even cups of coffee come to mind immediately. Amongst wildlife ‘photographers’ it tends to be the large predators. (In South Africa, it is leopards – nowadays they have also been given names. I wonder what the leopards call photographers? I have a few choice suggestions that I shall keep to myself!)

As a serious photographer, do not overlook the obvious. Much that needs to be expressed about the environment and its inhabitants rests with the little guys. There exists an endless variety that is important and must be spoken about. (Yes, I do know that the little guys do not sell well, but so what!)

Include processes in your visual repertoire. It is obvious that showing action or depicting an ecological relationship between individuals may hold more interest for the viewer. However, consider too the effect of abiotic processes on the fauna, flora and environment – rain, wind, wave action, the effect of changing light conditions, for example. Again, the variety (and the delight at seeing and communicating something new) is endless.