Я – церковь без крестов
Лечу, раскинув руки.
Вдоль сонных берегов
Окаменевшей муки.
Я – вера без причин.
Я – правда без начала.
Ты слышишь, как вскричала
Душа среди осин.
-DDT
A couple weeks ago I had the pleasure of going to an art photography workshop in Colorado. The leader of the workshop (artist Jennifer Thoreson) had held it there, at the Motherwell Ranch, for 4 years in a row. I had gone last year, and was very excited to go again. I had been feeling like the above image – a dry river bed – static, tired. I feel most days as if there’s a hive of disgruntled bees in my head, buzzing around causing a ruckus, making it very hard to do or think or be any one thing. Must do all the things, think all the things, be all the things all at once. It’s exhausting, and I lose myself in it so completely. This workshop, or retreat as I like to call it, is an escape. A way to force myself to slow down, breathe, empty out the angry bees and be left with an echoing silence.
Truth time – I love doing what I do. I love documenting life for my clients – be it weddings, families, big and little things. I think it’s important, and I really enjoy getting into someone else’s head, their feelings and experiences, and translating that into images for them. BUT – what about me? Who’s going to do that for me? Well, I guess I need to. I went to art school, and I have a drive, a need, a desire to create. Out of my own heart, my own head, my own experiences, I want to speak. There’s almost never time for that in my real life – between work, family, home, etc, it’s so hard to give yourself time. To allow yourself the gift of space. The privilege to first and foremost – exist. And second, to create out of that existing. So, I have to go away for that. And so I went.
The first day, I felt an extreme anxiety. The bees were creating a deafening roar. I felt I must do, create, be exceptional. “You only have a short time here, so seize the opportunity! Make the most of it! Create something beautiful and different and exquisite right NOW”. Not exactly the rest I had envisioned. Towards the end of the allotted shooting time, I just had to stop. I was putting so much pressure on myself that I couldn’t even hear myself think. I was going through the withdrawal pains – pulling away from my normal “PRODUCE PRODUCE PRODUCE” way of life. This is not the way to make art. So I called it a day.
On my slow walk back to the lodge, I came across this:
Something clicked into place. Like God just put his hand on my shoulder and said “wait. stop. listen. “
I can’t even look at this picture without getting chills.
There’s something about this place – the nature, the air, the specifically northern foliage that makes me feel HOME. In big, capital letters, in that cozy, satisfied way you climb into your favorite chair with your favorite person in front of an evening fire. I am pulled there, as if thin, unseen filaments beneath the earth tie me to the aspen trees – as if before I existed on this planet, I was in a place like this. I needed some time to settle in. That night I had a delicious meal, wine around the campfire, time to reconnect with friends from the previous year and make some new ones. I decided to take the weekend to play – just stretch my spiritual muscles, delve back into the art of making art. What do I want to say? How do I want to say it? What will it look like? Why? And focus more on the questions than the answers.