Learning to See: Photography and the Practice of Seeing
Every photograph begins before the camera is lifted. A curious scene catches our attention and unfolds before the shutter, and as photographers we cannot help but want to capture the spectacle developing in front of us. We are taught to look from the moment we open our eyes, yet seeing is something we spend a lifetime learning. Compared with looking, seeing asks more of us, as we often take little time to engage critically with the world before us. Photography is often described as a way of recording the world, but its greatest gift may be that it teaches us how to see it.
Whether in relation to our own work, or to what we encounter in galleries and museums, the practice of seeing requires patience, attention and curiosity to move beyond the surface. As John Berger explains in Ways of Seeing, what we see and what we know are never settled. We therefore spend a lifetime looking at art and developing displays that communicate what we want our work to mean, even if viewers do not always grasp the silent conversations behind it. When simply looking, it is easy to identify clear points of focus in images, such as people, objects and architecture. Seeing, however, reveals the connections between history, culture and memory more clearly to the disciplined eye. Through this practice, those who look deeply can connect the past and present with their own personal lives. After all, being seen, and seeing others like oneself, can be transformational in many different ways.
Training the mind to consider deeper meanings encourages us to slow down. Taking time to see beyond an image, and to contemplate not only the feelings it evokes but also what it is saying and what messages it is trying to convey, is a practice that should be continually cultivated. Over time, this can lead to a greater understanding of possible meanings and of the works we choose to evaluate. Photography is a patient practice that rewards those willing to move gradually towards the final image. A photograph is not made only when the shutter clicks, but also when we allow ourselves to become fully immersed in the scenes drawing our attention.
Pausing and waiting for what many photographers call “the right moment” or capturing each frame before and after it so that it cannot be missed, requires us to lean into the landscape and observe the details that shape both the image and the message we wish to express. Shadow, light and composition must all be considered, as they are just as equally important as the subject itself. These elements allow what is being seen to be understood rather than simply looked at for passing enjoyment. Photographs are forms of preservation, yet the meanings they carry can continue to shift through the experiences of those who encounter them. This sustained attention allows the photographer’s intention to emerge more clearly, while still leaving enough space for viewers to bring their own histories and interpretations to the image.
Documentary photography is one of the most powerful ways through which people can look beneath the surface and challenge what they think they know or believe they are seeing. Dorothea Lange’s Migrant Mother and Gordon Parks’s American Gothic have changed perceptions of marginalised communities around the world. It is the act of seeing people and places in a different light that draws photographers like me to continue making work that encourages viewers to confront their own assumptions and reconsider their understanding of others.
Works of this nature intrigue and beguile the mind, prompting us to search for greater meaning in the world and strengthening the desire to learn more about the cultures, landscapes and struggles of others. They can educate us about environments beyond our own experience, as well as those already within our reach. Sharing such work can deepen empathy, reshape how we understand one another and, in turn, contribute to a more thoughtful and harmonious society.
Photography does not ask us to look harder. It asks us to look longer. In doing so, it reminds us that the world has always contained more than what we first imagined; we simply needed to learn how to see it.