Trees in Fog, Mt. Tamalpais | Mark Lindsay
Most artists I know, with few exception, simplify their work as they mature. It may be that the passage of life beckons us towards the essence of things. Maybe we simply tire of complexity. Perhaps our senses reach overload after accumulating a lifetime of details. Our attic gets cluttered and we need to have a garage sale.
I find that I am leaving out much of what I used to put into my paintings, photos, and drawings. I need to say more with less. It used to be that this was impossible. Like a teenager doing headstands for his girlfriend, I insisted on making things complicated. Now I just want to take out everything until there is barely a thing left. It is all I want to do anymore. Yet, that "thing" is so very elusive, so hard to find.
Perhaps that is why I am attracted to deep shadows, reflections, and fog—elements do much of the work for me. They are part of a greater wisdom that obfuscates the inessential. I am at my happiest when the light obscures more than it reveals.
Today's image was taken above the fog on Mt. Tamalpais. Looking down into a valley, the fog slowly morphed the trees into abstract shapes of fantasy. Mesmerized, I could barely move as the fog cast a spell on the valley and everything in it. It was a rare day where just about every photo came out well. I had nothing to do with it. I was simply there at the right time to behold it all. So much about photography is being there—with your camera.