THE VIEW FROM HERE
by Stephen Johnson

Witnessing Sadness, Still Looking for Beauty

Three dead whales have washed up here in Pacifica this last year. Two in the last three weeks. They are wonders, and their death and remains become spectacle. When I hear they are there, sadly on the beaches nearby, I have to go look. My wonder at these fellow mammals overcomes my sadness and I go.

I feel voyeuristic, but I also photograph. I don't know if I make anything meaningful, The sorrow at seeing the remains of the living being that they were dominates the experience. But still, I feel compelled to bring the camera and make what I can out of the scene.

I'm not entirely sure why I photograph in such a situation. Perhaps there is an instinct to document my experiences, even when I force myself into them. Maybe there is a pure documentarian in me as well. Certainly my instincts about the truth a photograph can contain leads me down that path.

But looking for design, and line, structure and intrinsic beauty within the form that remains of these fellow creatures also disturbs me. It is felt more strongly in mammals than other creatures. I feel a similar sense when coming across dead birds or a dried up frog. But these cetaceans are different.

I should explain a bit. I've been a vegetarian since I was 13 years old. The decision was purely moral, reflecting an emotionally deep connection to other living things, animals and plants. I grew up in a family of deer hunters. This was not a comfortable place to arrive, particularly at 13. My family did not understand. But that empathy has only deepened with time, the commitment of 47 years and a much greater awareness of our place on the earth and the consequences of what we do.

Sperm Whale near Mori Point. Pacifica. 2015.

Sperm Whale Fluke in Surf. 2015.

We clearly photograph things that seduce us, scenes that inspire us. But we also photograph things that disturb us. Those situations we stumble into, and those we seek, all become subject to an instinct, perhaps even a duty, to hold, share, make known.

I've always struggled to understand how some photojournalists can photograph scenes of great tragedy. Generally it seems clear that their conviction that stories must be told, that what they are seeing must be known, must be the driving force. That these instincts can override, or at least subsume revulsion or despair, is remarkable. But they clearly do, or we would not have so many of the important photographs that we do.

I don't know where this particular work of mine falls into that compulsion. It is certainly not war, nor poverty, or any of many of the social ills confronting us. But with whales, their health and survival is both globally, personally and symbolically important.

Young Humpback Whale. Half Moon Bay, CA. 2014.

There are the people that come to investigate these whales demise, in our case the Marine Mammal Center and the California Academy of Sciences. They come unwind what is sometimes a mystery. Their intentions are good. But what they leave behind is a tangled mess of flesh and bone, quicker to decay and seemingly disrespectful of the being it was. If we had the funds, no doubt they would come and bury the creature in the sand. There seems to be no set protocol. We know what to try to do, most of the government entities that might act, struggle to figure out jurisdiction and funding. The whale gets caught in our world yet again.

Autopsy Crew. Pacifica, CA. 2015.

Link to Remains. Graphic Image.

Whale, Poser, and Dog. Pacifica, CA. 2015.

But there are also people that come just to see. By far, most are respectful and sad. Many there, just like me, because they are drawn to understand and pay a kind of respect. There are also some that come to gawk, pose with the carcass, make it into a carnival where the camera is performed for. More than one person mounted the whale raising their hands in some pathetic macho conquering of the whales life force. I watched this, finding it very disturbing. I also continue to ask myself, am I doing anything that different?

We don't know exactly why these whales died. Whales do die naturally, just as we all do. But two in three weeks, right near my home, raises questions. One appears to have been hit by a ship. Their struggle for survival is constant. Natural predators alone present enormous challenges. Their man-made foes are something else entirely. We hunted many species to near extinction. Through treating the seas as a sewer, using sonar underwater, to sea traffic itself, whales struggle to survive our impact on their home. Of course, we also capture them and put them in aquatic amusement parks.

I've been to Whaling Stations in Antarctica and South Georgia Island. I've seen beaches where huge whale oil tanks still stand memorializing a slaughter only shut down in the 1960s. Of course the killing continues from Japan, Russian, Norway, Iceland in opposition to the International Whaling Commission's moratorium issued in 1982. Also still hunting are Indonesia, the Philippines, Saint Vincent and the Grenadines and South Korea. The United States and Canada still allow native peoples small numbers of whales to be hunted.

Whale Oil Processing Station. Deception Island. Antarctica. 2005.

The loss of a whale from unnatural causes is significant on so many levels. Beyond the human and environmental factors that pose threats upon their lives, it is also important to realize that depending on the species, male and female whales do not mate until 5-10 years old. Female whales give birth every 2-3 years with an average gestation period of 10-18 months, followed by nursing their calves for up to two or more years.

On the clear upside, we see wonderful things all of the time too. They are not always great moments, but little wonders, where that same instinct to find design, line and organized beauty rises.

Here's a few groups involved in Whale Conservation Issues:

• American Cetacean Society
• International Whale Protection Organization
• Whale and Dolphin Conservation
• Cetacean Rights
  
• World Cetacean Alliance
  

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