Math, Science and My Heart See Architectures’ Light in London

“The real voyage of discovery consists not in seeking new landscapes, but in having new eyes”.

Marcel Proust

When we travel, we discover something akin to standing on the margin of an oceans’ expanse: We marry the colors of light sometimes with Kaleidoscope eyes. Our vision is shaped for every moment to follow. When we travel for architecture, we stand face to face with the world’s designs. We are embracingly on the margins of architectural discovery.

When I travel in my mind or across continents, I know before I know that I will have a visual revelation. It will be a moment that will titillate my gait with a movement that was till then, slumbering. Some may call it dance, but it is more like a Squirrel Monkey on steroids. My mind’s eye realizes that to miss a moment is to fail as a photographer. And so I continue.

It is a bit too easy to quote cinematic title when it comes to how I embrace my emotions while shooting. I travel to lands near and far and become comfortable citing movies and visual treats to keep my Hippocampus stimulated: Flemings’ From Russia with Love. Malle’s Elevator to the Gallows. O’Toole’s Lawrence of Arabia. Meryl’s Out of Africa. Bertolucci’ s The Last Emperor. Akira’s Ran. Those and one thousand other movies have spirited me away to dreams I may never have known. Movies have always been married to my subconscious. Their color narratives jump inside everyone of my photographs.

The greatest lesson I have learned as a photographer of architectural design, is that the photograph you are looking at is not the photograph you are looking for.

I ran across London’s streets filled with history’s reflections. critic Walter Benjamin held my eyes while I raced. His Arcades drove me mad at every corner. I kept seeing more than was in front of me. Every step, every reflection revealed history’s present past. British voices guided my paths: Shakespeare, Jonson and Johnson, Conan Doyle, De Quincey, Hitchens and the Cockburn family all enveloped my ears like Dre’s Beats.

“Look look!!” they said.

After weeks of running into shadows and mist, I began to feel besieged by fatigue.

I stood for hours in front of Sir Norman Fosters’ Gherkin. Yes it has a real name. But when I was lost (which for me is as common as morning and night) and asked for directions; “Gherkin was most commonly attributed.

I made the photograph that needed to be made. But upon completion, I saw something that lifted my spirits. It was this shard of cobalt blue. I was spellbound. I left my bags where I stood. I was exhausted but excited.

I moved as if I was hunting my first and last meal. The picture had to matter. I had my Pentax 6x7 loaded. I felt like I was teaching in a workshop or seminar. It was as if I was saying to my students: “watch how I capture this, follow my eyes. This is what you do in the moment, when you need to be ready to be focused, to be alive. Not a word, hardly a breath. I shot the scene. I shot a still life. I blinked and suddenly the lights turned off. I got my Cartier Bresson, I got my Ansel Adams. The picture was no longer, but on my film it was laid to rest.

The spirit took flight and then there was light.

If you will imagine planes, trains and automobiles replaced by trains, buses and automobiles, you will allow me to share London as an imaginative race. I pressed the medal on the pedal across the afternoon. I didn’t really want to go to Peckham. I was too tired of racing. But as you might know, I must! And so I did.

I had stopped in Greenwich (the home of Greenwich Mean Time and the Prime Meridian of the world) to shoot the Royal Observatory. When you exit the Observatory, you find yourself looking across the Brittania Royal Naval College. On a sunny day the view is spectacular. Then you walk along the marina where you will discover in and around the college great designs new and old. Leaving the area you will saunter by some restaurants and pubs. After about a mile and a half you will come face to face with Herzog and De Meuron’s Laban Dance Center. If you are not exhausted by then, off to Peckham you should go. It isn’t a great town upon first review. A pub pint or two will give everything an elevated glow.

After you run around the Peckham library and stand to the backside at sunset, you will see this expansive almost emerald green park lawn. When your eyes focus a bit more, you will be pleasantly surprised to see the park lawn roll into the the bobbing Thames and London’s glistening Shard and so much more holding court. Is there a better dreamscape?

I glanced at the sky. The sun was setting. I could shoot at night, but I had a plan that I needed to stick to. Yes I had made a few navigational missteps. Every transport had a stop. I raced to the next and the next. The light was getting so low that I began screaming in my mind. I knew the light would hold, but really? Would it?

I pranced, I begged someone to tell me if I was near Peckham. The driver yelled “Peckham next stop”. I jumped out. I asked for directions to architect Will Alsop’s library, with the surfboard on top. “Five streets” I was told. The sky was losing the sun. I was too exhausted to run, but I did.

There was only one position that mattered. But I chose three. The Pentax seemed like fifty pounds. I loaded fresh film and pressed down ten of the fastest frames I have ever made.

Honestly out of the one hundred London buildings I photographed on that adventure, it was among the unremarkable. But when I returned home, it glowed. It was something that I had not seen while shooting. I have grown to love this moment. Seconds of one afternoon proved amazingly transformative.

After a pint from a nearby pub, the “Tube” back to my hotel allowed me to reflect on the energy necessary to create. You cannot doubt your strength. You cannot deny your motivation and creative spirit. Most importantly you must allow the photograph to breathe for you. Baby, when it does it is just…

The Night

My last night in London I remembered I had neglected to make a photograph. I needed to see a simple Tadao Ando. I managed to grab a taxi. I pressed the driver to accelerate. We passed through streets. The meter numbers$$$ rose. I arrived outside the Connaught Hotel in Mayfair. Tadao Ando’s pool of mist whispered.

I scurried out of the taxi. I suddenly realized this found moment would be my final shooting memory for this trip.

I had nipped around London’s borders for weeks. I was always consumed by making the moment more than necessary. But Ando’s quiet reminder that architecture’s simplicity can deliver such a fantastic punch to the heart was an exciting jolt. The quietest keys in my mind whispered to me: “this is your moment, live it”. And I did. I swept my hands over the water. I walked the roundabout. I stepped away from curious eyes.

I hopped back in the taxi. I turned 180 in the car. I snapped. My camera Pentax 6x7 snapped another of the many Ando’s projects. The taxi carried/drove me to my hotel.

The filmed image was my final reward. I realized that sometimes the color of light at night, might have been just right.