Intrepidus Vacui
Aristotle first said nature abhors an empty space. Here is wisdom, yet also a paradox because that is where I found these two cubs, fearless in an open field, foraging in a black walnut tree. For me, open space is something to embrace rather than disdain.
Life has trained me to look at open spaces. While attending design school, homework would include kerning and refining the space between letters and headlines or analyzing the negative space of a single character as I carefully crafted typefaces with pen and ink. I did not look at the form of things but the space in between.
Before that, I learned about the art of the Pacific Northwest Coast. My appreciation of art and empty space first came from the Tlingit, Haida, and other Native American tribes of the Northwest Coast. I admired their use of bold, formline graphics stacked on a single totem pole, designed into the facades of longhouses, or even applied to ceremonial textiles. The dense, compact use of two-dimensional shapes such as ovoids, U forms, S forms, and the exclusive use of black and red defined the style of these coastal tribes. Integrating symbols from nature such as bears, ravens, and orcas delivered richer meaning to their art.
But the one thing that fascinated me more than their graphic symbols was the idea of horror vacui, a phrase in Latin that means a fear of open spaces. It is a term also dating back to the art style of the Geometric age in Greece (1100-900 BCE), the French Renaissance and Jean Duvet's detailed engravings, the Victorian era's excessive ornamentation, and later the postmodern leading to commercial art and graphic design. I soon realized that art required an appreciation for the space in between. There were no surprises later when I attended design school for commercial art.
Fear: The feeling or condition of being afraid of impending danger, evil, pain, etc.
Open space: Ecology. Or undeveloped land that is protected from development by legislation.
For some early Pacific Northwest tribes, they filled every empty space. Horror vacui was more than an art style, but a reaction to how they experienced life, with a fear of unforeseen forces, harsh conditions, and a struggle to survive along the Arctic and Northwest Coast. In the empty spaces, there was more than meets the eye. It was a visual style that became part of their cultural identity.
In November 2021, while driving through the Great Smoky Mountains, I found myself leaping out of my car to photograph two bear cubs in a black walnut tree. The light had begun to wain when I heard the rustling of branches and looked into the open field. I initially didn't see anything. Looking over my shoulder, as I started to drive away, it was then I saw the two cubs up in the tree. They were in the open field for everyone to see. I do not consider myself a wildlife photographer, but I do know it takes practice, patience, and a bit of luck to be successful in capturing its' spirit and beauty. I also know you need to act quickly. So between my experience with the motion of street photography and low light night photography, I was confident enough to jump out of my car, grab my camera with the longest lens, crank up the shutter speed and see what I might be able to create.
People ask me where the cubs' mother was. She was further out in the open field with her third cub. It did seem unusual they were so far away from their mother, open and free, with one thing in mind. To find and eat as many walnuts before the sun went down. I honestly didn't think any of these photos would turn out due to the limitations of the fading light and the movement of the cubs. But as I clicked the shutter, I visualized and considered the negative space, the exclusive use of black and white, and the bold graphic silhouette like the First Nation tribes did in their art. When the cubs moved from branch to branch, I waited for them to fill the empty space in between. And click.
I am not saying Aristotle was wrong in his theory that nature abhors an empty space. Though, perhaps, abhor is a bit too strong of a word for me. Without disdain, I waited, for these cubs, to fill the negative space in my photograph for us to appreciate the beauty of their silhouette. And the Tlingit and Haida tribes gleefully filled empty space to convey their close relationship with animals, spirits, and supernatural beings. On a totem pole, a bear represents strength and courage. A raven symbolizes the change in consciousness with the power to draw secrets from the Shadows. An orca is said to protect those who travel away from home and lead them back when the time comes. Nature and empty space give way for creativity, stories and much more.
Perhaps the perspective or new paradigm to consider for this era is not to disdain or fear an empty space but to appreciate and embrace all it can offer as life moves through it.
Intrepidus Vacui: A fearlessness of open spaces.
Fearless: Brave. Intrepid (Latin: Intrepidus)
Open space: Ecology. Or undeveloped land that is protected from development by legislation.
Maybe Lao Tzu was right when he said the usefulness of a pot comes from its emptiness.