Introduction
I have been a visual storyteller for most of my adult life. The majority of my work has been commercial in nature, creating moving images. The process almost always entailed crews, an abundance of equipment, and a creative mandate buried beneath a seemingly endless supply of impossible demands. Every image focused on movement: the camera moved; the elements in the image moved; and when everything worked together a powerfully choreographed dance was created — carrying you along and allowing little time to stop and consider. I thrived in this world until one day when working in Belize I realized that I had filmed such incredible beauty in this world, but most of it became just a part of an endless commercial stream of images seen for a moment, and then lost in time.
I lived in the San Francisco Bay Area for 23 years and now live in Las Vegas Nevada. I created visual media for large screen presentations, as well as small independent films. The work was intense, demanding, and usually took place in small, dark rooms with technically perfect air, dim lighting, and harsh, bright displays. Finally, lost in an endless stream of visual noise, claustrophobia had set in. I wanted quiet, stillness, and time for contemplation. In other words, I desired solitude. These projects came into being, then, as a result of my search for solitude.
If categorizing is necessary, I would align my work with the neo-romanticists. Visual poetry is what I strive for in pursuing “a sense of space.” I am also a Creationist and take great joy at the thought of a personal creator thinking up all this, creating it, and giving me the ability to discover and explore it. I was very fortunate to have lived in the San Francisco Bay Area. Quiet places were close by, and if accessed early in the morning they would most likely provide a solitary experience. I have sat countless times on Mt. Tamalpais — which overlooks the entire Bay Area — watching story after story being revealed through the curtains of fog. This act of contemplation satisfies my desire for solitude, and I am gifted at the same time with the most extraordinary photographic moments. Now I live in a desert setting where beauty and quiet reign. I now actually experience more of what I sought in the fog and water world. The silence and quiet I find here have a veritable presence to them and I am content.
So many of the places I have explored offered just a visual whisper at the first encounter. I returned again and again before I was really able to begin to photograph. It’s been a wonderful process. I’ve been learning I must enter these places quietly and humbly: watching, listening, and waiting; not as a common thief grabbing what I can and running. It is as though I sit as a scribe, while the act of creation unfolds new stories before my very eyes. It is in these moments of contemplation that I experience the “silent expanse of solitude” — as well as a good measure of gratitude.
Mark Singles January 2013