Do Pretty Pictures Matter?

Amidst global chaos and hardships, do pretty images of landscapes matter?

It’s easy to feel diminished as a creative when acknowledging some of the more morbid things happening in the world around us, and feeling a lack of power to influence positive change. I am not a photojournalist on the ground in an armed conflict; I am not telling the stories of those without a voice or whistleblowing corruption; I don’t have the means of a benefactor that raise up those who do. When driven by a desire to do my part, the disparity of scale can make me consider my own work under a reductive lens. This is a hurdle for creativity, and more importantly of purpose, which for me is an aspiration to leave the world a tiny bit better than I found it. To chip away at my piece of a multi-generational effort to improve the lives of people.

How, then, can I feel fulfilled with ‘mere’ pretty pictures? Over time I have deliberated internally, like an Atari Pong game, about whether my own enjoyment and passion of my work is enough to justify it’s existence meaningfully. 

Long story short: Maybe not. But, time is bringing clarity to the bigger picture I’ve missed.

Here’s the long of it.

Curiosity, awe, unfettered ambition to explore and learn and grow, are things I held sacred in my youth. One of my fears even then was that these traits could wane.. and following an on-going bout of chronic illness since 2021 - everything slowed down. I retired from my athletic career, I closed out my chapter of academic education, and my body would not allow me to seek out and translate the world the way I knew I needed to. 

I was given unwanted time and space to explore nuances in the world around us, applying my fresh kit of research and analytical skills to the real world instead of physics p-sets or college essays.

Summed: Sh*t’s f*cked, mate.

An unabashed, proudly delusional idealist of a young adult pretty quickly became pessimistic, with a diminished sense of ability to influence positive change. 

Here’s the silver lining.

I reflected on societies, culture, technology, empires, and their rise and fall throughout my university studies. It’s clear that our world is inevitably in a state of flux, that much is far beyond our control. Within our control, however, is an ability to remain steadfast in our visions for a better future. To raise beacons of goodness & hope above rising tides so that their preservation might guide our children and grandchildren. 

In creating works of natural reverence, curiosity, and mystique, I’m finding value in helping people hold onto a positive vision for what we do all of this for - what we live for, work for, fight for - and keep oriented during tumultuous times. A pretty image in isolation also rarely communicates any of this, which is perhaps why I want to engage more in conversations like this that culminate in their creation.

That brings me to my latest piece, made during a trek to Maple Falls, in The Forest of Nisene Marks State Park (CA). It was an up and back trail through a fully shaded valley / creek, with a turnaround at the waterfall. ‘Rent’s increasing. My car shat the bed. Another war in the middle east… haven’t seen my family in a while.’ I was kind of just going through the motions, and in my head about anything but the nature around me. I took out my camera and tripod at the falls in a manner that felt more like a self-imposed obligation than a moment of interest. As a result, I do not have any noteworthy work made from the actual waterfall. Walking back was a good opportunity for quiet reflection, exercising the discipline of keeping an eye open for noticing, even if doubtful or distracted. 

A patch of clovers, and a rising sun beckoned me through the trees. A thin slice of sunlight illuminated the clovers; they had something to say, an offer of conversation. I tried my luck, but there were no immediate insights or four-leaf clovers in this patch.

I wasn’t convinced the brief scene meant much, but I took time to explore it anyway and take away an image that I could think about later. The process of handling the image and making the print slowly made the significance clear to me:

During times and places of darkness, of turmoil, keep looking for light. You may not find the luck, or kindness, or opportunity you sought, but never stop looking for it. You might even stumble across something beautiful. 

Even here.

‘Even Here’, 2026.

Archival Pigment Print

16mm | 1/200th | f/5.6 | ISO 400

I invite you to sit with this one for a minute ponder and what it means to you. I am always fascinated by the incredible depth and variety of experience that each person has with any one image. I may share one of these moments in the next newsletter - I gifted an abstract landscape print to a friend, who shared it with their friend.. the result was a 12 page publication of philosophical reflections, written in German from across the world, whiled they gazed daily at the piece on their wall. That was an honor to read.

If you enjoyed reading this week’s newsletter, I’d love to hear from you! If you have a buddy you think would enjoying hopping in, you can share this signup link with them: https://www.murphsmedia.net/blog

Cheers folks, enjoy the rest of your week!

Murph