The Art of Ordinary

For those of you who enjoy photobooks I have just published a small photo book called The Art of Ordinary.  The idea behind the book is to consider the notion of beauty, goodness and truth in simple, everyday scenes. For instance, can beauty be found in the banal? Can the straight photograph portray beauty, goodness and truth? The book seeks to challenge the viewer to consider what lies at the heart of beauty.

An excerpt from the book:
"...surely it is impossible to deny the shining light of beauty - the beauty that serves man by offering us an invitation to reconcile with life"

Printed on digital offset as a run of 30 x A5 booklets, signed and numbered, 32 pp,  29 black and white photographs, on Munken 130gsm satin stock with a Munken 300gsm satin cover.

To see more photos or to purchase this book please visit: http://photo.johnmenneer.co.nz/

To see more photos or to purchase this book please visit: http://photo.johnmenneer.co.nz/

Remedies for Nihilism

In Ecclesiastes King Solomon depressingly states: 

“Meaningless! Meaningless!”
 says the Teacher.
“Utterly meaningless!
Everything is meaningless.”

The photographer Robert Adams describes nihilism as "that downward pull that we all feel". Is life truly meaningless and futile, or can we look beyond ourselves and find something good in the most ordinary transactions of life?  Surely we owe it to ourselves to take up this consideration.  Are we not all called to look more closely, to attend to what is in front us, in the monotony of everyday life, and to find what is true, beautiful, and good?  But this seems a difficult task in the current age, where a culture of individualism and moral relativity confuses our thinking and our power to observe and reason. After all, art has lost its objectivity and is now uncertain of itself, it is a flowing river with no destination.

Is the work of an artist now open to any interpretation, and is the artist losing his right to convey his own certainties?  How does this leave the artist who considers it his job to shine a light on what he sees, and to fulfill the old traditional job of art, that is: to reconcile man to life, and to thwart the downward pull of nihilism?

Shadehouse view. Powells Road, Hamilton.

A-frame house. Ohaupo Road, Hamilton.

Marama Street, Hamilton.

Waipunga falls, Taupo.

Parana Park, Hamilton.

Farmland, Wairoa.

Main Street, Tologa Bay.

Sycamore tree. Peacockes Road, Hamilton.

Landscapes Left Behind

For a few years now I've been photographing the limestone karst country that lies on the coastal margin extending from Raglan to Port Waikato, situated on the west coast of New Zealand's North Island. Here exists a relict landscape lying amidst farmland - a stunning micro-landscape that offers us a glimpse of what was here before man colonised this country and began wildly swinging his axe.

I am blessed to have permission to wander this land - to look and see, to quietly observe, and to photograph. Some days a photographer friend and I journey there together, and then go our separate ways, returning late in the day to excitedly share our discoveries of beauty and form in the landscape.

More photographs of this landscape can be seen here:

Landscapes left behind

Where Once Truth Was

There was a time when I could walk this path and there was no one here.  The car park was always empty.  It could be the height of spring and a fresh new day and still no one.  I would walk and see nothing but beauty. But things have changed and now others come here too, and more frequently by the day - ever since the falls received a top 10 tourist ranking.  Many of them have forgotten the common courtesies that one should pay to nature, and so they leave their many marks and signs in the landscape. Evidence against hope as the photographer Robert Adams puts it.

And there I was, making photographs of the natural scenery, wanting to record the hopefulness that lies hidden in the mystery and beauty of the world: excluding what I didn't like from the camera frame, to give an interpretation of hope untainted.

But then what can I say about the the truthfulness of my photographs. Have they been reduced to fraudulence? Perhaps I can present these slightly dishonest photos under the guise of optimism? Maybe not convincingly (not to myself at least), not if optimism itself requires denying reality.

So here are photos of hope and what it became in its tainted form that day.

Wairere falls. Taken at vandalized native vine

Wairere Stream. From recently graffitied foot bridge

Tree ferns. Taken 50 or so steps from barley sugar wrapper

Inner forest at half eaten apple

500 year old Rimu tree near vomited dog biscuits

Toi Toi flowers in the wind. Derelict campsite under trees in background containing 2 dozen shrink wrapped plastic plates, old shoes, perished tent fly, child's butterfly net, and other litter.

Fractured rock. Two girls smoke and text message behind boulders

Three boulders at cigarette butt

View from waterfall ledge across dairy farms

The Town of Love

I get such pleasure in photographing small provincial towns. They have their own feel and vibe. On a weekday, the suburbs are empty and you can feel a sense of peace and solitude. As you stroll along the quiet pavement you meet the older generation who stop to talk and bid you well. It seems on those days that culture is most evident, seeping out of ordinary buildings and ordinary places.

Gardens of Culture

It would seem that most of us find some joy in a garden. Not only do gardens show us what beauty can look like, but they also reveal something of our culture. When I look at the features of a garden: architecture, design, layout, elements of shape and form, and plant selection, I see the fingerprint of either my culture or that of another culture. It would seem that wherever people live, that a garden may result due to mans interaction with nature and his intent to create beauty - and perhaps hope.

A garden really lives only insofar as it is an expression of faith,
the embodiment of a hope and a song of praise.

                    - Russell Page, The Education of a Gardener, 1962