Glorious, vacuous nonsense

An article in the Comment is Free section of the Guardian website amused me today.

www.theguardian.com/..../sydney-wedding-photograph

As a more than occasional purveyor myself of what the writer, Jonathan Jones, refers to as "corny, sentimental, vacuous nonsense", albeit not so often through the medium of Instagram but often through the device of my mobile phone, I find I'm not without sympathy for his complaint.

I read it with a wry grin, whilst wondering throughout if I should feel indignant, or argumentative, defensive in any way at all.

I don't think I've ever pretended a claim to be "an artist", I'm happy to leave that judgement to others.

I am what I am, but I would hope that some of my performances and works, be they written or drawn, be they photograph, poetry, prose, instrumental or song, I would hope some might have carried at least a breath of artistic merit, and am both quietly pleased and flattered when it's confirmed that they do in the eyes of some.

The modern ease of photography has made a bad artist of everybody. But, actually, I'd argue it a far better thing for a person to be a bad artist, than an artist not at all.

I had thought of closing this post with some "fake feeling and gooey pathos" ridden image of my own as I have more than a few; say a sunset, because sunsets are too easy and I can so rarely resist. But instead, as the opening theme that triggered Mr Jones' rant (and I do enjoy reading a good, eloquent rant) was a wedding photograph, I thought I'd conclude with a short selection of some of the few wedding photos I've taken of my own.

They were taken with my DSLR rather than my mobile. I was busy drifting around the lake one September evening in 2009 taking photos of the sailing when I noticed a lass in a white dress on the lee shore. Thought I was seeing things at first.

I think the photographer must've originally suggested the lakeside as a setting for some romantic wedding photos, and then over the period of the ensuing twenty minute shoot, gradually persuaded the bride down into the water. I don't know if she'd agreed to it ahead of time, but if not, it was a master-class in manipulation.

That is I suspect, as much as framing the shot, the photographer's true art.

Six years later, one has to wonder, and hope, they are still happily married. I'd hope so, but I don't know. I never did find out who they were.