Within The Photograph

by Julian Gasparri (Australia)

I didn't expect to find New Zealand

It's too perfect. I wish I could feel it. I think this to myself as I look out at Queenstown's Lake Wakatipu. I've been exploring this picturesque gem for a week; capturing everything on camera. Yet if my images were compiled into a photo book for me to reminisce, my senses wouldn't know the difference. The lake could appear in the background or foreground of my gaze, yet I'd still feel distant - a mere observer in this untouchable landscape. So much that my photos appear to plagiarise images I've seen before, as there's nothing lively to identify the present. I don't even see myself in the pictures featuring me. I feel cropped out of every dimension. So in order to awaken my senses and truly feel present, I attempt to see the lake from a different perspective. I embark on a relaxing drive toward the northern end of Lake Wakatipu, to a little settlement called Glenorchy. This renowned route is considered one of the most scenic drives in all of New Zealand, as its winding, inclined road sways through the rugged green terrain that overlooks the lake. The water's mystical palette of blue, purple and turquoise contrasts with the warmth of the rocky Tooth Peaks mountain range, which juts between the sky and its reflection on the water. However, witnessing this with my own eyes feels like receiving a postcard from a friend on their travels; as although I am physically present, it seems too surreal. It’s almost as if the tranquil water, arid mountains and pastel sky are all shellacked and left completely immovable. So much that I'm tempted to throw a rock at this dreamy composition; to wake it up with some ripples, to prove I'm actually here. At some angles, the reflection of faint white clouds merge into the mirrored mountain range, creating what looks like a double exposure photograph. Yet, like a photo, it appears two dimensional. So much that I have to stop at many lookout points along the elevated road just to confirm my vision. Still, each view I get feels intangible, leaving my mind to wander well beyond the mountain range. Glenorchy is a quiet township. My dormant limbs greet me as I step out of the car to explore the main streets, which lead me to the wharf. I stand at the edge of the pier with the familiar feeling of a glass enclosure dividing me from the view. There must be something wrong with me. I hopelessly wander away from this vista, following a path through a set of bushes beside the lake. Here, nothing can prepare me for what I'm about to discover. Emerging from the thick mangroves, I am surprised to see the trail morph into a large sandspit that protrudes out into the middle of the lake. I reach my hand out to caress my view, before realising that for once, it's not untouchable. Without further hesitation, I run to the end of the spit. I'm suddenly overwhelmed by the collage of diversity surrounding me. Before my feet, the reflection of the clouds create a marble effect with the deep blue water, which glistens in the sunlight. Further out, swampy green flora spreads across the water, growing thicker and thicker in the distance. Gloomy mountains haunt the horizon as they stand as tall as the clouds, with modest ice caps at their peaks. I've been looking out at these elements over the lake all week, but they haven't been right before me. I pick up a rock and attempt to skip it across the water. Plonk. I become plagued with hilarity. Not by my failed throw, but from seeing the water show some life. I take off my shoes and socks to chase the ripples. This is my first time feeling Lake Wakatipu. It's cold. It's wet. It's saying Hello. "Let me take a photo of you," my brother insists. Amidst my numbness, I haven't allowed myself to notice him until now. He takes several pictures that would be worthy of a photo book, yet all I notice is true liveliness and contentment in my eyes. There I am. Here, I am.