Assorted medications in a paper bag, each in a different package emblazoned with a unique design. Instruction leaflets warn of contra-indications, whether or not to use during pregnancy, time of day to take, if on an empty stomach or not. Treatment of differing pain is key and the key unlocks the door of perception. Losers beware, this is not a place for the feint of heart.
Overnight the wind moved. Now it became ‘cierzo’ and that heralds change.
All day I watched the thunderheads build and their associated storms blotted out patches of hinterland, at times stealing the vistas of the distant high sierras.
Then in early evening the light changed causing a steely grey darkness to descend. The temperature plummeted whilst the oppressive air dissipated. Dark cloud rolled up the valley and it brought the scent of rain flooding into my nostrils.
With the deep, rolling thunder the house trembles. Within a moment everything is rivulets of rain water and the chill air makes me shiver.
It comes in, slowly at first, but it moves in waves and it’s impossible to resist. Just like the ocean’s movement it draws you inwards and then further away. It feels as though it’s playing with you as a cat does with the prey it’s caught but not yet decided to kill.
In then out with a pause in between. It’s akin to an organism breathing however the fear level rises with each fresh cycle.
A tender allegory about impossible love, madness and solitude.
There always has to be a starting place for ideas that may grow into projects and these words seem to be just that this time around.
The Revista Ojos Rojos blog led me to this article about the publication of Wim Wender’s book Written in the West, Revisited that will be available from July 2015. This has led me to contemplating the impact that the visuals from films such as Paris, Texas (Wenders), Lost Highway (Lynch), The Last Wave (Weir), Lawrence of Arabia (Lean)
Although bleak these places hold a compelling attraction for me. They always have done. There seems to be nothing whilst at the same time something. A vast emptiness devoid of people but dotted with evidence of human habitation in the form of buildings, signs, roads, vehicles.
A sense that things rarely happen. That I can get lost. Be unknown. Have no past and no future just be present.
Partly abandoned and forgotten about. Places where most fear to enter.
Not derelict in the manner of the impact of the property & banking collapse.
Derelict from a loss of love.
Not that the beloved has gone away – more like the visitor is unable to keep hold of love even if they manage to find it. It slips through their fingers as grains of sand do upon the beach.
The intention was there; to meet love, to be visited by love. However when love arrived then it’s energy and the consequence of it’s appearance in your life was so overwhelming that the impulse to withdraw from its arrival, no matter how much it was yearned for, became paramount.
This evening the show opens at LCC London that marks the culmination of the 2 year, online Masters in Photojournalism & Documentary Photography. I should be on a high….but I ain’t.
No excuses, no apologies. Just how it is.
However in the past 5 months I’ve achieved a film re-edit taking it from 16 minutes down to 3 minutes, designed (with Celine Marchbank) and printed a book as well as having a major role in setting up the #continuum___ exhibition that launches today @lcclondon.
All in all it feels as if I’ve taken a knife to my heart, cut out a large slice and am all set to discard it.
I’m back, after a few months silence as I decided what happens next.
Together with the team – Richard, Alfie, Fionn and invaluable consultancy from Abi Hedderwick I’ve re-edited the film so that it now runs at just 3mins 06secs and it’s good to go.
Watch, listen and let your mind wander round the path of eternal suburban un-understanding.