I’d like to start by asking you to define “Humanistic Photography” that’s on your stationery.
Humanistic Photography is photography that explores the full range of human emotions from a spiritual perspective. I characterized it as visual theology.
Please elaborate on this theology.
The world is in need of affirmation. At the very heart of our humanity is the challenge of unconditional love, which is to suspend judgment and open fully to the vivid reality of other beings. Unconditional love does not know barriers, it says yes, it affirms the moment—even when it is full of grief.
There is a biblical mandate known as tikkun olam—two Hebrew words which mean “to complete or repair the world”—based on the notion that humans are purposely handed an unfinished world, and it is their task to complete or mend it with good deeds. This, along with tikkun halev, a corresponding mandate, “to heal our hearts,” are the core of the work.
Humanistic Photography reflects on the generosity of the universe, the countless deeds of social action, the care healing practitioners provide, the spirit of volunteerism, and the goodness of strangers. It offers a world being actively repaired with heart. I believe that the answer to human suffering is compassion, and maybe that’s why “humankind” begins with “human” and ends with “kind.” By way of kindness we kindle and rediscover the true essence of our species.
What are the photographs meant to do?
Photographs made with heart awaken us; they remind us of our true nature and what needs to be done. Collectively, the photographs form a plea for understanding, for tolerance, and most important, for compassion.
How do you define heart?
Heart is that part in us that is most tender and open to the world, that place where we let others in and feel moved by them.
Making a photograph is as close to being alive and creating new life as one can get. Right before an image is made, the heart beats anxiously, or is quiet beyond measure, and in a split second the camera’s shutter is released—the moment is lifted, followed by silence—a reverence or gratitude for what had just been recorded, and only then is it offered to the subject and viewing public.
In what way “offered”?
The American public has an insatiable appetite for peering into other people’s lives, as evidenced by the popularity of the tabloids. Photographers have become accustomed to stealing the privacy of others, and society rewards them for this behavior. I believe that the very best photographs are those that are freely given by the subject. When they are freely given, they turn into offerings.
Expound on how society rewards photographers for stealing the privacy of others.
Substantial fees are paid by the news media to paparazzi -- photographers who stalk celebrities. Some highly regarded photo-journalists also disregard personal privacy. An example is the photo of Ethel Kennedy, wife of Robert Kennedy, kneeling on the floor next to her husband after he was assassinated. The photograph, first published in 1968, shows Ethel holding her husband’s head with one hand while the other hand attempts to block a reporter from intruding on her grief. That reporter took the photo anyway—an image composed through the open fingers of her hand.
I wonder what kind of image the photographer would have made if he put his camera down for a moment, assisted Ethel in some way, and then if appropriate, looked into her eyes with compassion for nonverbal permission to record the moment?