On Saturday I visited Ähtäri zoo with Antero and Tiina. Even though the weather was not ideal, it was — just like our trip last summer — a wonderful experience. I saw several animals that I have never (and probably shall never) see again. Except that I plan to definitely go again. According to Antero the zoo is special because most of the animals are Finnish; the two exceptions are the snow leopard and the alpaca. We also saw a wolverine, European bison, several beautiful owls, five lynx, and bears and wolfs. There were also some other animals (various deer, other birds), but these were my favourites. I hope to see them again and also some of those that were either to shy to come out of their cages, or not visible at all. (The cages, by the way, are enormous and some are much larger than any I have seen at other zoos.) At the top my wish list is the fox and the wild boar.

Another highlight, the result of Antero’s experience and foresight, was our stop at a grillausalue — a BBQ spot where we grilled some sausages and had coffee and sandwiches. It was rainy lightly and quite cold (certainly less than 5 degrees), so the food was extra-delicious. Because of the rain my camera got quite wet and I tried to keep it dry as best I could. That is not an excuse, but m photo’s are not exactly prize-winning although a couple were quite acceptable.

My camera also took a beating (or a wetting) on Sunday when I visited Henri and Jenni (and Justus and Kaius) to take some photo’s of the Myllynpuro (millstream) that runs close to their house. Now that the snow is melting it was running strong, and there are a couple of impressive waterfalls. The quite large area is now protected but it was not so when Henri was young. His stories about playing around in the woods around the stream were charming and like reminiscing even a little sad. Our happy childhood memories are perhaps undervalued and, happy or sad, they are also unique to us and make us what we are, in part. As Henri was talking I tried to detect how his experiences has taken him along his current path. Of course it is not the only factor in a person’s life, but it is tempting to think that some crucial aspects of our early years form our character and determine our future focus. I have always had this sense about many of my Finnish friends, perhaps we Finns live so much closer — allegedly to nature.

I took another set of prize-losing photo’s on Sunday, but just as with the trip to the zoo I am satisfied if I get away with one or two photo’s that are worth keeping. I think I lucked out both times.

I am now reading Robert Adams’s “Why People Photograph”. The book is written by an older, experienced professional photographer and although it is fascinating, it doesn’t exactly answers the questions that I am wrestling with. What makes photography art? Perhaps I should ask: “What makes anything art?” but for the moment my medium is the photograph. More importantly, what is the message I want to communicate to the viewer? What do I want to say? How does the artist choose his mission? Henri made a good point: photography is in some sense the opposite of painting. The painter has to consciously choose which elements to put in his picture to form his message. The photographer has to consciously choose which elements not to put in his picture. Painting is art by inclusion, but photography is mainly art by exclusion, since the photographer cannot manipulate his subject like the painter can. The former must decide what to put on the canvas, the latter must decide what not to photograph.

It could be that art cannot be defined in the way I wish, that the analytical method does not work, that it must arise spontaneously over the course of a life, and that it is in vain because it will not ultimately make a difference to what remains on my film (or web gallery or what have you). But I am indoctrinated by the scientific method and the analytical approach, and I’ll try this until it fails. Or perhaps that failure will be my art.