The Inexhaustibility Of Things, As They Are In Themselves
I often find myself walking alone along remote beaches, mountain trails, or wooded paths. In these solitary moments, I encounter simple natural objects—weathered stones, driftwood, a gnarled branch resting on moss … or trees, water, the horizon (both near and far) and all other familiar elements of nature. Though strictly speaking, they are “inanimate”, each of these things exudes a quiet sovereignty. They seem to stand outside of our bustle and time, almost immortal in their steady presence. A rock or piece of wood might lie there for ages, witnessing sunrise and storm long before and after my brief visit, and in that endurance, I sense a profound, wordless story.
There is a mystery alive in such ordinary things. They are things in themselves—not merely objects of our perception or use, but beings with their own intrinsic presence and depth. As the philosopher Martin Heidegger suggested, every being “has a secret door” through which it comes forth into the world and shines toward us. I feel that secret door in each rock, branch, or pool of water I photograph: an invitation to wonder, a glimpse of an essence that words can’t pin down. No description or picture can ever exhaust what a simple thing truly is; each being is always more than we can say or think about it, always exceeding the meanings we attach to it. In the stillness of nature, these humble objects hint at an inexhaustible depth, quietly asking us to look beyond our ordinary frames of reference.
In creating the black-and-white and variously toned photographs for Things in Themselves, I aim to heed that poetic calling—to point toward this “secret door” hidden in all things. Each image is composed to let the object speak in its own silence. Through soft light and gentle contrast, a tangle of driftwood or a solitary stone emerges from shadow, asserting its place in the world. The stark tones and simple compositions are deliberate, stripping away distraction so that a rock or branch can appear not as a mere object, but as a presence. I want each photograph to reveal the subtle way the world whispers through these forms. In their quiet arrangement, these natural elements become almost monumental. They beckon the viewer to pause and contemplate, to share in the sense of timeless witness that I felt in that moment of encounter.
Beneath these images runs the intuition of a larger, nurturing presence. In Heidegger’s terms, there is an aletheia, a truth unfolding or unveiling itself, and a physis, a generative emergence of nature, at work whenever something comes into the open. Each photograph in this series is a small collaboration with that silent unfolding of Being—the way the cosmos allows a simple thing to shine forth and endure in time. Within the still frame of a camera, the ordinary reveals its secret extraordinariness: the drifts of sand trace the unseen rhythms of wind and water, a weathered stone becomes a messenger of geological ages, a fallen branch hints at the living forest it once was. These images invite a contemplative gaze, one that senses the inexhaustible mystery every humble being carries. In the quiet presence of rocks, sand, and water, we may catch a glimpse of something infinite—the subtle, enduring light of Being shining through even the simplest of things.
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