Funny that: I don't see "God and Man" as landscape at all.
I see it as just another mood, which is what I also see in the abstracts. Blue Monk, for example, wasn't felt as that at all in the shooting but after seeing it a few times, it brought Thelonious's eponymous tune to mind. The thing is, focussing long lenses has a tactile quality (well, almost) that is, for me, visceral in the extreme, and that was ever so, even with girls. The closest I get to the same thing is looking through binoculars at something distant and framing it with a nearby hedge, for example, where the depth shimmers and plays around with reality, even though it actually is reality. Much like Eric's empty camera shoots; did/does it matter if they were empty - isn't it the seeing?
Maybe it's simply that I can't find much of interest in things that are readily available - that there's a need for something that doesn't really exist outwith the moment, returning me, sadly, to the product of shooting with the ladies: you only have the record of a fantasy you created between you. Retrace the steps later and there's nothing there; a bit like the empty studio blues which some of us recognize so well. Or that now empty, windswept beach.
Which brings one to the matter that Keith raised: how many (abstracts) would he (or I) want to see? And that's the thing: is photography for the self or for others? Simple in the commercial world, but not quite that easy when outwith the paymaster situation.
Perhaps that's been the huge block I have faced these past years: why do anything with a camera today? In a way, it's as if I feel myself some mechanical toy that's lost its original purpose but still runs on until the clockwork stops. (Which I hope ain't no day soon!) A photographic Flying Dutchman, then. But anyway, better active than in traction. On a practical basis, abstracts don't charge fees!
;-)
Rob C