week5—the Nature of things Posing for Posterity; —scend at Machu Picchu—
experience blog #5 –
This week, we went to Machu Picchu. Coincidentally, the day we went was the day of the Winter and Summer solstice. Winter solstice in Peru (southern hemisphere) and Summer solstice back home in Vancouver (northern hemisphere).
Machu Picchu was one of the things I was most looking forward to on this trip, as I’m sure it was for many other people, and so I packed very accordingly. In other words, I brought my film camera.
I think photography has been something that has changed or altered my experiences on this trip. On the one hand, there is the presence of the phone – the almost always accessible camera. A convenient yet baneful thing. I’ve been a bit wary of how I choose to take photos on this trip. A part of me does not want to take part in excess, (partially motivated by running out of storage), yet another part of me feels like I am missing out if I do not take a photo in certain moments. I think that striking this balance is hard, which is why I like my film camera. Each shot is intentional and costly, the results are not immediate, one or two steps wrong can ruin the entire strip… but perhaps it is this temperament of film that I enjoy.
Anyway, once we arrived at Machu Picchu, my viewfinder on the camera got stuck—meaning I could not see through the lens of my camera. Needless to say, I was unhappy. After watching The Motorcycle Diaries and viewing Martín Chambi’s photographs, I was quite excited to capture Machu Picchu myself. In the end, I decided to continue on and capture Machu Picchu on film, blind. I think that this occurrence helped me to see the breadth of the balance I was trying to achieve.
On the ascent, I hiked a majority of the Stairs of Death on Huayna Picchu by myself. I stopped every so often to try and take a picture, often still, the viewfinder was black — and so, I looked directly at the scene I wanted to capture instead of looking through the lens. In this way, I was forced to gaze at the real scene, instead of a reproduction or framed image of the scene. The stress and preoccupying task of taking photos began to wipe from my head. I began to simply look at my surroundings, with no further intention other than to think about what I was looking at.
Eventually, I reached some friends. Together, we ascended to the peak. As we gazed down upon Machu Picchu, I thought of that line from The Motorcycle Diaries:
“How is it possible to feel nostalgia for a world I never knew?”
I don’t know if Esteban and I saw the same unknown worlds that day, but I am sure we felt the same familiar nostalgia.
As this thought rippled, I was taken by another. Grace said to me: “ascend, descend, transcend… whatever works for you.”
As I ascended Huayna Picchu, my eyes averted up towards the skies, the mountains, the clouds hovering below, and I looked beneath – at what ground I left and would return to soon. As I descended, I looked at what was in front of me. The stare of the steep stairs, my hand grasping the moss-covered rocks beside, my foot placements on slippery stones. As I descended, I watched my friends as they trekked down. I thought about the unknown and forgotten worlds they might be seeing too, if it was the same ones that I saw, or if we felt that same remembering nostalgia.
Perhaps, in both my ascent and descent—thanks to the solstice, the mountains, the skies, the rocks, the trees, and my friends—there was transcendence as well.
***when I get my film developed back in vancouver, I hope to add those blind shots here.
One reply on “week5—the Nature of things Posing for Posterity; —scend at Machu Picchu—”
I really like this “blind shots” topic. I’ll use it now as a metaphor. Some time now there has been talk about the relationship between memory and photography. In my case, I have detected that my experiences are similar to those blind shots: despite having a framework that delimits my expectations about what I will see (or hear, taste, etc.), what I captured and that often seems transcendent to me (in memory) was taken blindly.That is to say, it is precisely what is not prepared, what is not planned, what is not framed. In other words, let’s say it’s what results from exposure to “real scenes.” I personally feel more nostalgic about them, because I couldn’t realize what I was experiencing at that moment, until later. (I think I got tangled in this comment, I hope you understand what I mean).