hello stranger
selfie, overexposed VW bus, and some houses i liked.
more instant photos that i’ve taken the last several days. the polaroids are from thursday, the 7th, on a walk around the neighborhood. i wore boots instead of tennies to slow myself down. i had some things on my mind that i wanted some time to think about. on my way through thoughts, i crossed paths with a couple of cats in a stroller, a crumpled monarch butterfly — unclear whether on its way in or out, kids skateboarding for snacks, and so many neighbors. maybe not neighbors i knew personally, but ones whose faces were becoming more familiar over the weeks and months of routine strolls.
it was a good walk. i didn’t go far, but i traveled.
on a technical note re: polaroids — i didn’t have as much success exposing the faster 600 film outside as i have in, but i’m pleased with what i got and moreso for having taken them in the first place. i can get self conscious taking photographs out and about. i worry i’m drawing attention when i’d rather slip into the margins of the scene — an observer, not a performer. i sometimes see people looking at me or in the direction of whatever the subject may be and i think to myself, “i wonder if they see what i see." which used to cause worry that what i saw was uninteresting or unimportant. gradually i realized those thoughts aren’t helpful. i take pictures of things i like, that catch my eye. no further self-explanation needed.
the subject isn’t provocative nor rendering exact. that’s rarely the goal with instant photos.
these next few instant photos are from the 10th and were taken with Sam’s square instax camera. we were spending socially-distant hang-time with friends in the parking lot across from their place. i’ve only been a handful of times and have so far seen the lot resourcefully used as a track, roller rink, playground, and stoop. the afternoon light was nice - shadows from utility lines complimented the roofline they were cast on. at one point several crows perched themselves on the lines and took flight before i could save it. these weren’t any ordinary crows either. they had just been at ground level, foraging and flipping over clods of dirt that seemed bigger than they were. seeing this effort had me looking at our almond and peanut fed yard birds a little differently…
the topic of conversation meandered momentarily to instagram, which i deleted from my phone and haven’t been on since october. well, that’s not entirely accurate… i haven’t engaged with instagram since then, but my account is still technically active; sitting somewhere in a data oort cloud, gathering dust. i stepped away from the platform for my own health; i felt like i couldn’t parse things out and gauge authenticity. i thought i was making an effort to be honest on the platform - honest with myself and the things i shared — posting photos in hopes of gaining exposure while also exploring others’ work. easier said than done, and i often found myself refreshing notifications after every post to surveil incoming “likes.” it felt an unnecessary pressure and source of anxiety that i could easily disengage from. so i did.
absence from mainstream social media can feel like invisibility. so much of life nowadays references back to one of a few “.com” addresses, everything else feels like small potatoes. it can feel isolating to exist in the digital landscape without a connection back to a larger network. i had briefly contemplated creating a “parlor tricks” instagram account to link to this space, and i’m embarrassed to even say so. social media isn’t an inherent part of the creative process, not for me, and that’s ok.
i considered how i’ve shared my photos on Flickr (the only social media i actively engage in and still enjoy) and in this space, and the purpose these spaces hold in my process: to leave clues and notes en route. i thought about the challenge and goal to maintain a digitally accessible creative journal that i can use as reference along my creative timeline. i needed a space that was able to move forward, backward, up, down, and sideways. i needed an accessible time capsule. i needed the internet. and maybe i am talking to myself in a void here, but it’s also the most crowded room i know with billions of other people criss-crossing it at any given moment. there is a nice solitude here knowing there may never be anyone else who reads any of this other than myself (and you, Sam. hi!). and by magnitude and chaos of the interwebz, i know that solitude won’t last forever… (another subject for another day perhaps?)
i am still getting comfortable with the direction of things, as evidenced by nearly every entry so far; and i will need to be compassionate with myself when feelings of isolation and invisibility creep in again. before signing off i want to install a reminder, should i find myself here again, to follow my instincts and trust myself whether it be in my work, social network, or instant photos.
and if you happen to find yourself here and you are not me, hello stranger.
