Michael Kenna : The geometry of silence by Carole Schmitz
Silence has a shape, a rhythm, a light. For over forty years, Michael Kenna has explored its subtle nuances. In his black-and-white images, every tree, every reflection, every abandoned building becomes a marker of time, captured with geometric precision and a rare contemplative sensitivity. His photographs do not merely reproduce reality they transform the landscape into a space for meditation, where the ephemeral meets the permanent, and where light shapes the invisible.
Over decades, he has emerged as one of the most singular voices in landscape photography. Born in England and trained first in graphic arts, then in photography, he settled in San Francisco to cultivate a freer vision. From the very beginning, he favored stripped-down landscapes, where human presence fades in favor of light, time, and form. Working almost exclusively with film, often at dawn or in the stillness of night, Kenna does not chase the fleeting moment he captures duration. His emblematic series Japan, trees, snow, industrial sites testify to his unwavering approach: rigorous composition, meticulous attention to tonal subtleties, and restrained poetry. Solitude, patience, and precision form the foundation of his practice, giving his prints a unique emotional intensity. His method resembles a meditative discipline. The choice of black-and-white film and long exposures—sometimes lasting hours is not an aesthetic pose, but a way of engaging with reality differently. These extended exposures suspend time, reveal what the eye barely perceives, and open a space hovering between the concrete and the imagined. In this silent world, light, geometry, and shadow take center stage. Kenna’s style thrives on a subtle tension: formal rigor meets inner poetry. Each image is composed with near-musical precision, yet carries within it a breath, a secret. Solitary trees, rivers, industrial sites, or Japanese landscapes are never mere motifs—they become symbols, fragments of memory, invitations to contemplation. Many of his photographs possess the purity of a haiku: brief, silent, yet profoundly moving. His work invites reflection on time and perception. The solitude he embraces and the patience he cultivates shape his vision as much as his images. He does not simply observe the world—he listens to it. His handcrafted prints and mastery of light and texture are never technical feats for their own sake, but tools to make the imperceptible tangible: the trace of a breath, the mark of a presence, the memory of a place.
The retrospective in Nice at the Musée de la Photographie Charles Nègre reveals an artist who does more than show the world; he invites us to enter its rhythm, to hear its light, to sense what remains when all seems still. Despite the diversity of locations and subjects, his work maintains a profound inner coherence. Michael Kenna is not merely a landscape photographer he is a poet of time, a sculptor of light, an observer of silence.
This exhibition encourages the viewer to slow down, to let the gaze occur. It reminds us that between form and light, photography can become a universal language, revealing not just the world but what remains invisible within it.
Website : www.michaelkenna.com
Instagram : @michaelkennaphoto / @museephotonice
Actually : “Constellation” at Musee de la Photographie Charles Nègre de Nice until January 25, 2026
Your landscapes seem timeless. What are you trying to capture above all — the light, the silence, or the memory of the place?
Michael Kenna : Your very kind comment that my landscape photographs seem timeless is high praise indeed. Thank you. Our human presence on earth is both short and finite, and in my case far more days are now behind me than in front. Each photographic experience therefore becomes even more precious. I increasingly think of photography in quite simple terms and do not feel a need or urgency to define, describe or clarify, albeit sometimes I attempt to. I am now more than ever aware that I work more as a medium, rather than creator. I seek out in the universe subject matter that resonates and excites my inner spirit, which, as you list, may include light, silence and/or memories and atmospheres residing in any particular place. I try to keep my eyes wide open in order to recognize the treasures that are graciously offered. While photographing and printing, I interpret, perhaps in a minor way. Then I pass these moments on. My process therefore includes connection, conversation, collaboration and communication.
What role does solitude play in your photographic practice?
M.K. : Pico Iyer wrote, back in 2002, “Being alone is of all the states of grace the one most frequently discredited, or at least distrusted”. Whereas he, and so many others, could more elegantly and eloquently extol the virtues of solitude than I possible could, I will say that in my photographic practice, right from the beginning, solitude has been an essential ingredient in the mysterious concoction we might term creativity. I think solitude expedites spontaneity and experimentation with no fear of judgement, success or failure. When photographing it allows both an inner conversation and a deeper connection with whatever subject matter is presented. Solitude implies fewer distractions and a more concentrated focus. I spend hours and hours alone in the darkroom where it is necessary to have full concentration. In my earlier life, I was a devoted marathon runner. For three to four hours I would converse with my body in order to get over the finish line. At the end of races I would have solved the world’s problems, without even thinking of them. A slight exaggeration I know, but creativity often works best when we are busy looking in another direction. Extricating from consciously directed thought can be helpful to imagination. Company is truly magnificent. Being alone can be too.
You often work at dawn or at night. What do these hours offer you that daylight cannot?
M.K. : Dawn, dusk and night are times when the world is likely to be shrouded, veiled and darkened, when light is constantly on the move, when shadows proliferate and one’s imagination becomes tuned to its highest frequency. Early on, I was greatly influenced by Bill Brandt’s night studies, and those of Eugene Atget and Joseph Sudek. Each of these great photographers irresistibly drew our eyes into the shadows. As a practicing photographer myself, I find that I am inclined towards suggestion, rather than description. I have little interest to shine a bright light in order to collect and exhibit all the details. Not that there is anything askew in such a pursuit, but each of us must follow our own muse, our own flights of fancy, to see where they take us. For me, the waning and waxing of the day and night, the territory between light and dark, the uncertainty of change and expectation, are fertile grounds for creativity. I often make long exposures on analog negative film, sometimes for several hours, either out of necessity or choice, with no certainty of what will be recorded. I find that darker conditions are more conducive to this for of experimentation. Perhaps it is not a coincidence that I also often prefer to spend many of the daylight hours in my darkroom…
How does Nice, or the South, resonate with your vision of the world and of photography?
M.K. : I would describe myself as being more of a Northerner than Southerner, more of a Winter person than Summer, but as I age, this could easily change and seems to be! I do not wish to belabor my aversion to sunshine, (photographically that is), but would heartily recommend a good reading of the book “In Praise of Shadows” by Junichirō Tanizaki who says it all. I loved my time photographing in Nice in the nineties and remain very happy with the resulting images. Of course, many of the photographs were made precisely at the times I have just discussed: dawn, dusk and during the night. I was given special access to the old hillside cemetery there and wondered around amongst the gravestones throughout the night. I was usually up well before sunrise to walk along the beachfront and explore the harbor. I was privileged to enter private gardens and parks when nobody was around. As a photographer, I feel it is important to respect whatever one meets up with, armed with the sure knowledge that anything could happen at any time. Attempting to control creativity is not something I would recommend. Losing control and moving out of a comfort zone sometimes encourages new and unpredictable pathways. So, occasionally I work at midday in bright sunshine. Even if I do not find a good image, I always appreciate the extra vitamin D.
Your images often carry a sense of spirituality. Is that a conscious pursuit?
M.K. : I think of John Szarkowski’s “Mirrors and Windows”. When you look through a window you might see anything. When you look in a mirror you see yourself, like it or not. In my boyhood years I spent seven years in a junior seminary with the intention to become a Catholic priest. It involved hours of ritual prayer, meditation, silence and discipline. Later on I looked at Buddhism, visited Shinto shrines, married into a Hindu family. I have friends of many religious and non-religious persuasions. As I get older I become more and more convinced that there are no answers, only questions to be asked and possibly pursued. Perhaps due to my early training, I have a ingrained suspicion and aversion of all forms of religious dogma, and have never felt comfortable with the word “spiritual”. I don’t even know what it means. But, if being spiritual refers to a common sense respect for our world, while at the same time reflecting ignorance of whatever comes before and after our lives here, I would regard your comment as a very kind compliment. A conscious pursuit on my part? I don’t think so – it’s more likely an inescapable refection back from the mirror.
What does black and white represent to you today, in an era dominated by digital color?
M.K. : Color is everywhere, so I think black and white is an immediately recognizable interpretation of what a photographer sees, rather than an attempted copy. Black and white reduces and simplifies. I find it to be quieter, calmer, more peaceful than color. Perhaps it leaves more to the individual imagination. It certainly hearkens back to a different era and references earlier photographers. I have always preferred black and white over color, while many others prefer color. It is personal preference, and these musings are, of course, just subjective thoughts from a subjective person. Decisions, decisions, decisions – we each make our own based on our various and sundry reasons.
How do you manage to maintain a balance between formal rigor and poetic emotion?
M.K. : My apologies, but I really have no clue of how to answer this question! I simply look for poetry everywhere. It is the way that I prefer to see the world. I construct my images with formal compositions because, again, it is just my preferred way. I try to make horizons horizontal, and count posts in the water or birds in the sky. I pay attention to white spots and highlights when I hand retouch my prints. My vision today, for what it is worth, is probably a predictable result of many decades of accumulated practice. But I try not to question or analyze, and I do not seek answers or formulas. Hence, I cannot give clear and precise response.
Is there one image in this retrospective that you feel best encapsulates your journey?
M.K. : I regard my work to be an ever growing extended family. Most images get along with each other. Some quarrel. The exhibition at the Charles Negre Museum, expertly curated by Sabine Troncin-Denis, has 120 prints made between 1973 -2025, all sitting close to each other. I might have favorites, but I would never publicly disclose that information.
Time, patience, contemplation — do you think photography can still teach us these values today?
M.K. : YES, would be the simplest and most direct answer. But, we could say the same about a pencil, pen or paint brush. Time, patience, contemplation and solitude can be sought and/or taught in so many different ways. Let us keep in mind that photography is a medium, a language and form of expression. It comes with innumerable options, choices and decisions to be made by individual photographers. For example, we could decide to whisper or shout, be militant or peaceful, focus on the negative or positive. The world is our oyster and it is up to each and every photographer to follow their own path. I like to think every person is unique, so each path will be, should be, different.
After so many years of traveling and creating, what are you still hoping to discover through your camera?
M.K. : Photography has been my constant companion for well over fifty years. We have walked together, slept together, prayed together, cried together. Of course, someday we will part ways – it is in the nature of our brief time here. Photography has given me an abundance of riches. Discovery, mystery, reverence, awe, astonishment, beauty – the list could continue and fill pages. I will always be filled with immense gratitude. What is it that we still hope to discover in a loved partner? Why should we seek to discover more? Is it not enough to use those same words: mystery, reverence, awe, astonishment, beauty, to celebrate an ongoing relationship? Acceptance and appreciation seem to me worthier intentions than a constant search for more. Maybe I am wrong? Maybe these words of contentment should be anathema to any artist worth his or her salt. Let me ask my wife and I’ll get back to you.
Interview by Carole Schmitz
Michael Kenna : “Constellation”
Until January 25, 2026
Musée de la Photographie Charles Nègre
1 Pl. Pierre Gautier
06300 Nice, France
https://museephotographie.nice.fr/
