Ties
Filed under THOUGHTS.
Our newest KAGE colleague, Neale James, published a wonderful essay this week about a past trip to The Gambia, an unfortunate incident involving a large wasp, and the goodness of strangers in a foreign land. He writes about how much he misses those connections with others, all those chance encounters that ultimately shape us and grant our lives meaning—beyond what we already know and expect.
I gave a training/portfolio review this week, for a photographer I've known a couple of years now (he used to head a local camera club that I mentored in 2019). I did half the work on my own, isolated, then I drove over to his house, and we spent two hours discussing his images while sitting in his backyard; masks on, of course—it's hard to social distance around an iPad screen. It felt awfully good to interact about photography, face to face and IRL.
I've always thought of myself as somewhat of a loner, but as much as I enjoy (or need, really) periods of seclusion, the truth is I come alive with others, nourished by discovery and new voices. By connections.
This is the first year in almost a decade that will be devoid of travels, or workshops, or conferences (well, so far...but it's almost September, let's not kid ourselves). I'm not angry about it and I'm certainly not railing about measures that I consider absolutely necessary. But there is a void, an unquenched thirst. I miss seeing and I miss hearing. I miss unknown fragrances and sensory overload and that twisting in the pit of my stomach, whilst dangling on the knife-edge of a new experience, willing to be slashed.
I understand our quiet life is a blessing; that health, comfort and safety—as the world goes mad—are luxuries too many can't afford. But I'm with Neale on the sense of loss... And on the hope that we can reach out again soon.
...
I arrived a few minutes early for the meeting and walked around a small community centre, across the street from where I'd parked. We've reached the moment of the year when the air turns crisp and clean, like unsweetened lemonade. You can put on a shirt, long-sleeves and all, walk for miles without breaking a sweat, every breath dry and invigorating.
A season of change is upon us.
