A Book of Shadows

The Allegory of the Cave

Elk, Grandfather Mountain. 72”x108” oil on canvas 2023

Shadows intrigue me. In my elder years I wish I had paid more attention in my philosophy class at Millsaps College more than fifty years ago. I have a general grasp of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave but feel a bit timid talking about it. After all these years I do understand what it would be like to return to the darkness and the chains of an unenlightened past. The news of the day instills fear in me of what happens to those who offer a taste of illumination to the people still informed by shadows. Admittedly, there is a bit of jealousy bent towards the ones who never fought and escaped the bondage.

There is comfort in a life illustrated by shadow images. Clawing and crawling into the world outside the cave is painful. Once I understood the depth and complexity of a fully illuminated world I was hooked. The rent curtain could not be restitched. My eyes were seared with the light.

Shadows are important not only as metaphor in philosophical encounters but also as spatial signifiers. As an artist, I use shadows in order to ground an object or a character. In the painting shown above, the shadow of the elk is as much the subject of the work and the image of the animal itself. The massive creature steps toward a dangerous drop-off while preoccupied with its own image. The question the painting poses is, “Will the creature wake up in time or will it stumble off the cliff?”

I find the shadow images fascinating. There are great similarities with the rock art I witnessed in southern Utah. This image of the shadow of the elk immediately transported my eyes to petroglyphs and pictographs in Canyonlands National Park, Moab, Utah.

Newspaper Rock, Canyonlands National Park, Moab, Utah.

It’s as if the ancients were inspired by the shadow cast on the stone. It gave them the idea to chip through the desert varnish and portray the characters that existed in their lives. They could tell a story the way the shadow puppets told a story in the cave.

Shadow. Lilium catesbaei. Black Creek Ravines

Lilium catesbaei

I don’t pretend to be a professional photographer. My naivete became blatantly apparent after a days’ worth of shooting reference photos found my shadow sullying half the images. Closer inspection of the photographs offered me a way to justify my negligence and sloth. What if I embraced my shadow in the context of the photograph and used the information gleaned as a recorded document? The presence of my shadow along with the subject i was recording became an indicator of my being at a particular place at a certain time. For the last decade and a half I have made hundreds of images like these.

By embracing the glare of the obvious and recording the cast shadow a glimpse is offered of a more complex situation. A little knowledge goes a long way.

Shadow with decorative hat. Catalina Island, California.

My shadow portfolio includes images that require little applied narrative.

Shadow of Bois D’Arc branches at Faulkner’s Rowan Oak.

Shadows certainly may tell a story. To the ones who still find themselves shackled in the cave they tell the only story. A moving silent picture exhibition of a world decided by guesses and suppositions. Out in the light the shadow may be a grounding agent. It places a subject in the context of time and space. The shadow may also offer a bit of proof that a thing happened at a particular time and place.

As we claw our way out of a world defined by shadows we should caution ourselves. We extend the flower of compassion to those who are content to live in the dimly lit cave. We don’t really know their circumstances. Also, we need not exclude the shadows from our field of vision. Without the dark reference we can’t understand our past. We learn from the elk. We acknowledge our shadow because it let’s us know where our feet are but we don’t let it distract us and doom us to an uncertain future.