INTRODUCTION

Choice by Destiny

Shortly before turning thirty years old, I started to reflect on my life and to examine the career path I had taken. I could not help but recall what Confucius once proclaimed, “At fifteen I set my life goal to become an intellect, at thirty I had established myself, at forty I had been able to make right judgments with full confidence, at fifty I had known my own destiny …” This well-known text by Confucius has been passed on for 2500 years, and has had a great influence on scholars of later ages in Chinese culture and around the world. In the western culture, no one has yet defined one's own trajectory of life in a chronological time table. Many individuals think that life is a journey of suffering. This notion probably originated from the belief of Buddhism. If life is compared to a long journey, what would one have to suffer? Everyone may have one's own answer but for some people the purpose of life is the most puzzling conundrum of all.

While contemplating the purpose of my own life, I walked into nature unwittingly. Not long before I started to appreciate the beauty of grasses, trees, animals, rivers and mountains, I also started to understand the harmony of our natural world. My conscious appreciation soon turned into fascination and enthusiasm once I was drawn to the beautiful photographs of nature published in magazines, books and in other media. In the spring of 1995, I decided to teach myself landscape photography. In the beginning, I used a Nikon camera and a few lenses to take the close-up photographs of flowers, grasses and insects with color transparency films. I learned through trial and error, and through self-evaluation. I also read books and studied the works by well-known photographers. Among them are John Shaw's practical field technique guide book series for landscape photography, the books and images of the Himalaya and high Sierra mountains by Galen Rowell, and of Africa and other parts of the world by Art Wolfe. I was inspired by these masters. I realized that if I could devote all my energy and passion to photography, I would gain all the satisfaction and have no regrets at

the end of my life. Gradually I started to take longer trips to the Great Smoky Mountains and the Blue Ridge Parkway, as well as the vast coastal regions in the Southeastern states of America. Later my photo trips were further extended to the American west, Alaska and various parts in China.

Twenty-five years after I first picked up a camera, photography has become the focus and loyal guide of my life. It has been a beacon of light as I traverse life's journey, leading me to the realm of which I had never dreamed. As I walked further and deeper into the world of photography, I never stopped wondering about the meaning of life. At the age of around forty, I realized that no one could come up with a satisfactory answer before living through a large part of one's life. Through photography, it had become clear to me that the meaning of life is to explore its possibilities and to achieve its full potential in making contributions to the civilization of mankind.

Photography has not only given me a life purpose, but it has also developed me in every way in the process. I have never felt that I have sacrificed myself to the art of photography. With photography I have lived my life in constant meditation while enjoying the pleasure of the art. Through the lens of the camera I have seen the world, and I have also found myself.

Freedom of Exploration

If the origin of art is compared to a seed floating in the air, an artist grows like a tree: landing on the ground, finding the right soil, absorbing moisture and nutrients, germinating into a seedling, taking sun light, enduring the hot and cold conditions, eventually developing into a big tree, and flowering and setting fruits. Unquestionably the growth of an artist cannot be separated from the environment in which he lives. Besides innate talents, perhaps the most important factor for the work of an artist is a sense of freedom. Art is pure and free. True art should be created without constraints. Only in a free space can the creative spirit of an artist be nourished. An artist must cast away the noise and commotion of the chaotic world and completely immerse himself into the art. An artist must be true to his heart, rather than to gratify someone else's taste or simply to follow the trend of contemporary fashion without discretion. The life of art is its originality, which can only be perceived and developed with the sense of freedom of the artist.

When I formally started photography in the spring of 1995, I still lived in the central part of North Carolina. In the western part of the state lies the southern end of the Appalachian mountain range, where the Great Smoky and Blue Ridge mountains are located. To the east is the long coastal line of the Atlantic Ocean. Therefore, I did not need to travel far to see diverse landscapes. During the beginning years of my photography, however, I was fascinated with the vibrant color and intricate details in close-up views of wild flowers and fruits, tree leaves, mushrooms, and small animals such as butterflies, spiders, frogs, turtles, bees, snakes and others. I took numerous photographs of these subjects at the Mason Farm Biological Preserve and other natural areas near where I lived. My vision gradually shifted to grand landscapes only as I traveled to more distant areas.

During 1997-2001, my photography was mostly concentrated in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park, Pisgah National Forest, Nantahala National Forest, Shenandoah National Park, Blue Ridge Mountains, as well as the coastal regions of the southeastern states. Among the places I have photographed the most is the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Besides the magnificent light at sunrise and sunset, the winding mountain ranges with dense forest constantly shrouded in fog and clouds are full of mythical quality. Countless creeks and waterfalls, big and small, with clear silky water add an elegant touch to the landscape. Every autumn the flamboyant fall colors of the foliage on the hills inspired me. In the eastern coastal region, I photographed frequently at Lake Mattamuskeet, Lake Phelps, Swanquar ter National Wildlife Refuge, Pea Island National Wildlife Refuge, Cape Hatteras, Bodie Island and others. In 2012, after nearly two decades in photography, I took a trip to the Big Cypress National Preserve in Florida. The blue sky, white clouds, the vast swamps and the mysterious ancient forest of cypress trees are magnificent.

In the spring of 2002 I moved to Ohio. I found myself suddenly facing a drastically different landscape. I soon became fascinated by the pure form and tranquility of wintery landscapes in snow and ice. Every year when winter arrives I cannot help but exult: nature is going to repaint the landscape once again! Since moving to Ohio, I have photographed scenes in Clifton Gorge, John Bryan State Park, Ottawa National Wildlife Refuge, Lake Erie, Cuyahoga National Park, Tinkers Creek State Park, Maumee Bay State Park, Lake Catherine and other nature preserves. During the years, I have seen better than any time before that lighting can change a landscape dramatically. The harsh winter has allowed me to see dramatic landscapes in various parts of the state.

I took my first trip to the American West in early 2004. Over the next decade I made seven trips to various parts of this region. Until 2016 I had been in dozens of national parks and preserved natural areas, including Joshua Tree, Grand Canyon, Death Valley, Glen Canyon, Yosemite, Bryce Canyon, Yellowstone, Arches, Olympic, Mt. Rainier, Redwood, Saguaro, Capitol Reef, Canyonlands, Glacier, Petrified Forest, Zion, Sequoia, Rocky Mountain, Badlands, Great Sand Dunes, Lassen Volcanic and other national parks, as well as Dixie National Forest, Slot Canyons, Vermilion Cliffs, Bisti Wilderness, Chaco Culture Historical Park, White Mountain, Mono Lake, and Anza-Borrego State Park. In 2006 I took a long anticipated trip to Alaska and visited Denali, Gates of the Arctic, Kenai Fjords, Lake Clark and Wrangell-St. Elias national parks. I also saw the Brooks and Alaska Ranges.

The grandeur of the vast American West captivated me and expanded my vision as a landscape photographer. My newfound vision liberated me from the techniques that I had worked out under the soft light seen typically in the southern Appalachian Mountains with dense vegetation, fog and clouds as well as in the savannas of the coastal regions along the Atlantic. I started to appreciate the charm of the harsh lights and deep shadows. After dark, the pristine night sky and glimmering stars inspired me. While examining my work more critically than before, I began to question the role of colors in the composition of landscape photographs. Soon I realized that in my early work I had emphasized color more than anything else, and a large part of my effort was to make color stand out. I had also found that once I switched my focus to light and shade, and to

shape and form, color became irrelevant. I then saw very different compositional elements in all landscapes.

No matter what one believes or whether one has a belief at all, there is one notion that no one can evade: every living being on the planet ultimately came from a handful of dust, including mankind. No matter where we go in our lives, no one can forget one's birth place. Since 2003 I have been taking numerous photo trips to various places in China, including Guilin Yangshuo, Suzhou Gardens, West Lake, Jiuzhai Valley, Huanglong Nature Preserve, Shangri-La, Meili Mountains, Yongming Glacier, Dunhuang Pagoda, and many scenic areas in Xizang, Xinjiang, Inner Mongolia, and other provinces. Photography has not only allowed me to see many places of my birth country, but it also has given me opportunities to experience the diverse folk cultures and the vitality of the people.

Between 1995 and 2008, I used primarily the 135 system, namely a few Nikon film cameras and lenses of various focal lengths ranging from 18mm to 400mm. In 2006 I purchased a Fujifilm S3PRO digital SLR with the question of whether I should switch gears to digital photography. However, the digital camera never passed the testing phase to my standard, and I never used it formally in my landscape photography. As a result, I never purchased another digital camera, even though the advanced features of the current digital technology may have well surpassed the traditional film photography. While the digital technology has profoundly changed photography in every way, it has also made visualization a very shallow process. Photographers now rely on the viewing screen for composition, rather than directly seeing the landscape with one's own eyes and composing the images in one's mind. In addition, the computer screen is not an ideal medium for viewing the images. In 2008 as film photography seemingly came to an inevitable end, I purchased a brand new 4X5 system, including a Toyo View 45AII metal field camera and six Schneider lenses with focal length ranging from 58mm to 400mm. In 2012 I added a Pentax 67 medium-format camera and seven manual lenses of 45mm to 300mm in focal length.

Art is timeless. Works of art should be made to endure the test of time. Therefore, the craft of producing photographs does matter a great deal in their preservation. My purpose of using traditional film technology is to ensure the lasting quality of the enlarged prints for centuries and longer. Another advantage of the traditional chemical process is that it allows me to visualize and interpret every print individually from the original image. I firmly believe that art should not be the product of duplication. Each print should be envisioned uniquely with a new visual conception, rather than produced uniformly using a common protocol. In selecting my own images, I have adopted the standards used by many American master photographers: only the images that can make great prints are considered good photographs.

Between 2015 and 2016, I renovated my home-based darkroom and started converting all of my selected color transparency images into 4X5 black and white negatives. Since I began landscape photography over twenty years ago, I can now finish the entire process of photograph production with my own hands. Looking at the first set of silver gelatin prints coming out of my darkroom is a moment of epiphany. I asked myself: why did not I do this at the very beginning? My answer is simple: there was no need for doing so. I had been taking color transparency film images since the first day of my photography. I could see all the vivid details in film images under a loupe on top of a light box. These images were adequate enough to take me into another world. I did not need to see the prints. But over time my way of “seeing” has changed fundamentally. I have begun seeing light and compositional elements in a very different way than any time in the past. This is the natural result of my personal growth. I have no regret or blame but gratitude for the path I have taken. Art has no short cut. There is no crash course for becoming an artist. Personal growth takes time. I am delighted about my development as a landscape photographer. My trajectory of becoming a landscape photographer seems to confirm what László Moholy-Nagy once said many decades ago: “Art cannot be taught, only the way to it.” Every photographer must approach art in his or her own way.

Self-Enlightenment

The essence of photography is the art of seeing. The concept of “seeing” was first proposed by Edward Weston in the early 1920s. Among his prolific writings, the meaning of “seeing” had derived into twofold: seeing in an aesthetic sense and seeing in a photographically technical aspect. For the latter, Weston also referred to using the term “visualization”. As he pointed out, the technical part of “seeing” can be learned through practice, while the aesthetic “seeing” relies on one's talent. The way of distinguishing between the two, however, is often difficult to define, as “seeing” involves both aesthetic and technical elements. Art must be original. Seeing in imitation of the masters only leads to simulation and duplication. In a sense, what determines the originality of seeing lies on the talent of an artist. If talent is a gift to an artist at birth, its essence is the potential of self-enlightenment through artistic creativity. As stated earlier, “talent” is a God-given ability guided by the additional gift of self-awareness, but one's creative spirit still has to be nurtured, edified and enriched, so that one can become a fine artist and accomplish extraordinary work. And through the work self-enlightenment manifests itself.

For nearly two centuries, there have been many great photo masters who have not received formal education in art or photography. The way to approach art may vary, but the destination is the same for every photographer. As a unique form of art, photography is distinct from other arts (e.g., painting and music) in that the equipment, such as cameras and lenses, as tools, has largely solved the technical requirements for photographers. Therefore, it is possible for one to master the art of photography entirely through self-learning and practice.

Although the traditional wisdoms acquired by the pioneering masters are valuable, photographers should not apply to all situations mechanically. While I was in Bryce Canyon near the end of a winter many years ago, I came to the edge of a cliff one early morning before dawn to photograph the delicate rock formation, as quite a few other photographers were also doing. I noticed that some of the photographers started taking shots long before sunrise. I assumed that they were dictating the rule of “first light”. The sound of the shutters reached crescendo when a few clouds above turned colorful in the sky. In the meantime, I also noticed that the canyons below the red rock pillars were still quite dark as there was no direct light reaching there. But remarkably, as the sun rose above the mountain range in the far background and started to illuminate the rocks and canyons below, no one was taking another picture. As if on cue, they inexplicably packed up their gear and dispersed in different directions, and I was the only one left at the edge of the cliff. I was surprised and puzzled at the same time. I was wondering if I had missed the best moment. But as I looked ahead in the background and below the cliff, the scenery was just beginning to unfold: the beautiful morning light cast long shadows of the rock pillars and trees into the canyon, color was still brilliant. The dark and sleepy canyon a few moments ago was just turning three dimensional and everything was coming to life. I wondered why no one saw this as a picture. I rechecked all the knobs on my 4X5 view camera, took light readings one more

time, set shutter and made a vertical exposure. I was thinking that if there was anything that I did not know about, this picture would tell me. When I received the processed film, I was more than satisfied with the lighting, composition, contrast and color saturation of the image. From this trip I re-assured myself that pictures taken at this steep canyon at pre-dawn are lacking the charm of light and shade, and tend to be very dull and flat. Similar photos circulating on the internet are more than likely the result of blindly following the dogma commonly dictated among many photographers. The use of so called “first light” has been advocated as the golden rule by British landscape photographer Joe Cornish. Many photographers have been fervently following this rule indiscriminately without realizing that its most successful execution has been to the seascape for which Cornish has been known. The time when the sun just emerges from the horizon is the most dramatic moment at the sea; however, the same moment may not be so dramatic at high mountains with steep cliffs and ravines. More than often even the most talented photographers tend to be distracted by the bright colors before sunrise while ignoring other compositional elements.

For many photographers, “seeing” can be transformed by an epiphany — an idea or conceptualization that comes irrationally, sometimes even spontaneously. The visualization of an image may be driven by a ‘visual impetus' — an inspiration compelling the photographer toward the making of a particular picture. Some claim that they can acquire visual inspiration from other art forms, such as music. Music may affect photographers both emotionally and visually. But exactly how music affects one's visual perception is always a fascinating phenomenon to me. I think that certain photographers can extend their natural talent of musical interpretation to photography through the interaction of their senses. It is possible that photographers with better musical perception possess the unique sensibility of transforming melody and rhythm into their visual conception. This would in turn enhance the photographers' visual ability to recognize compositional elements in a landscape. Exactly how and why some photographers respond to certain music in a way that others do not, cannot be explained. I assume that it cannot be taught or learned.

My knowledge and understanding of music is only at a beginner's level. But that does not prevent me from receiving musical influence and finding an application to photography. Among all the best known masters, Frédéric Chopin is the most inspirational to me. The poetic and sometimes almost translucent quality of his Nocturnes has always brought to my mind the images of a clear stream meandering at the foot of a mountain. The seamless fusion of the granular sensation of splashing water droplets and the silky feeling of the limpid running water is vivid and profound both musically and visually. My photographic vision and Chopin's piano music had integrated perfectly when I was photographing Tinkers Creek in Ohio. In the past the fast rushing water has always been rendered as a blurred milky mass in 35mm film pictures. After I adopted the 4X5 system, I was able to see the detailed fine trails of spattering water droplets for the first time.

Realm of Spirit

For a long time I have been thinking about two puzzling questions: What is the ultimate realm of the art of photography? How can an image transcend its visual reality to achieve spiritual expression? Since early last century there have been many photographers claiming that photographs should reveal the inner world of self. But photography is a form of silent art. Images can only be perceived visually, pictures do not speak. I always have doubts about how photographs can truly reveal the spiritual mind as I believe literate or vocal expressions can.

Several years ago I read a book by a well-known American landscape photographer that recapitulates his decades-long career as a photojournalist and later a converted environmentalist. On the front page of the book is a peculiar photograph of a lonely small tree withering and slanting in a desert canyon. This image looks starkly uncharacteristic in comparison with the other landscapes shown in the book. Only when I read a few fine lines of small text below the photograph did I understand that the author used this image as a metaphor to express his deep gratitude toward his aging wife for all the difficult years they spent together. If the author had not provided the statement, I never would have understood what the image was intended to show. This is a clear example showing that an emotional or spiritual state cannot be reliably and accurately conveyed solely through the visual expression of a photograph. This case is by no means unique. Unlike most great photographers in history, Edward Weston did not elaborate in writing on his own work, although his writings on the art of photography were prolific and insightful, even sometimes extremely incisive. During his life time, however, when facing the constant misinterpretations of his photographs by the media and the general public, this eloquent and brilliant master had turned unusually tolerant and even amiable at times. If“a picture is worth a thousand words, ” photographers and viewers may likely have interpretations that do not necessarily converge. I believe, there are no exceptions even for the works of masters.

Since the dawn of humanity, all arts have been created for spiritual expression. With the rich history of the arts and of literature in Chinese culture, the expression of spiritual realm has been particularly captivating since ancient time. Spiritual implication through visual depiction or euphemistic textual description makes up the core of aesthetic connotation in Chinese arts. In essence, such aesthetic consciousness and significance have been revisited in the art of the modern photography originated from the west. The concepts of Alfred Stieglitz's“equivalency” in the early 1920s and the metaphorical representation of one's inner world by Minor White in 1950-60s remarkably share the same ancient aesthetic ideologies of the Chinese arts. There are no national boundaries in terms of the aesthetics for artistic expression, especially in photography. Transcending visual reality for spiritual expression is a common pursuit for all photographers. The mission of photography is to discover and present beauty through visual expression. The value of visual expression is to provide the sense of joy for beauty.