I am, however, fascinated by the concepts, by the idea of striving to be in the moment. Many of us, myself included, are often too busy dealing with regrets over past decisions or anxieties about the future. We unnecessarily torture ourselves with realities that we can no longer change or worry about things that may never happen. This ominous waste of emotional energy prevents us from truly enjoying the present. How much easier would it be if we could just let things happen and accept them for what they are, without judging or worrying...

When I look at the way my two beautiful cats go through life, I cannot help admiring how they seem to have embraced the essence of living in the moment better than any human I know. They always seem to know exactly what they want or need, they never cling to past memories or despair because their “plans” for the future fail to materialize. Instead, they seem happy and content with their lives, are grateful for any minute of quality time we get to spend together and are always curious, forgiving and quick to adapt when things change. I often wish I could be more like them.

What does all of that have to do with landscape photography, you're wondering. On the surface, there doesn't seem to be much of a connection. But just because it may not be obvious doesn't mean it’s not there. I would argue that in order to produce any kind of art, we have to be in the right frame of mind, whatever that may be.

Our perception and vision tend to be sculpted by the way we feel at any given moment. And it appears that some of the most impressive pieces of music, literature or visual art were created when their creators were in a vulnerable emotional condition. In landscape photography, probably more so than in some other artistic genres, we have to work with the hand we are dealt by mother nature. While that is something we cannot (and, as far as I'm concerned, should not) fundamentally change, what we see on location and how we decide to work with it creatively largely depends on our state of mind in the moment. Therefore, being truly present in the moment definitely helps make the best use of the conditions on location. I, for my part, enjoy balance, harmony and tranquility in my work and try to find and express that whenever possible.

I know I'm not alone in considering the being outside element the very best part of landscape photography. I’ve been on locations without ever firing the trigger and still considered the shoot a successful experience. Sometimes being out there and taking it all in is all that matters, and I believe that this experience-driven approach works much better for me than the premise that I absolutely have to make an image. When I focus on savoring the moment, it becomes much easier to find my inner peace, and making an actual image is really just one part of an enjoyable outdoor experience.

Feeling the wind or rain on my skin, smelling the salty, musty or fresh fragrance of the air and watching the day come to life, or vanish into the night, is usually enough of a reward for me. Once the camera is safely perched on a tripod, it's time to become immersed in the moment and stop thinking or even worrying about anything else. Being where I am is all that matters. I know this probably doesn’t qualify as meditation per se, but it sure has a meditative feel to it. And if I give it enough time, the compositions will present themselves almost automatically. Or not. And that's ok, too.

The images in this set are all from the NW part of Hokkaido, shot in January of 2023 over the course of a couple of hours. They epitomize my vision of balanced calm, and I really enjoyed every minute I spent there. While it is no coincidence that a location in Japan, in particular, made me think of the Zen theme, I feel that the above applies to all of my photography, regardless of where it happens.