The nature of the work I make has inherently involved me with events in the past. It’s certainly within my nature to deal with what has passed and the requirements of here and now rather than consider the future, but after so much change and turmoil in my life over the past few years, I feel I’m now at a point where I want to look forward, and I can’t help but feel I’ve got too many options.
When I look back and consider what led me to where I am (professionally, geographically, relationally), it seems as though the decisions were barely made, simply a timeline of where I was and where I am now, but that of course isn’t true. Every big decision is preempted by a series of smaller decisions, which are influenced by how people respond to us, dismiss us or invite us in and I think it’s important to consider how our paths may have been different. That’s not to suggest any regret about the decisions that I’ve made, but it can be a significant help in making decisions about the present and the future.
What felt like mistakes or failures in the past, over time, turned into life lessons. The priorities which we once held shift and change as our world changes around us and our thoughts and feelings evolve within us. The straight line that we may perceive we’ve lived along doesn’t have to carry us forwards in some sort of predestined way, we have the autonomy to choose, to prioritise and imagine how life could be better, not only for ourselves but for future generations.
This experiment is carried out beautifully in Paul Auster’s 4321 (thanks to Klaus Pichler for the recommendation), detailing 4 different versions of the same boy’s life, evolving in tandem through the book as internal and external forces influence the paths that he takes. It’s a fascinating read (albeit a long one!), that invites the reader to consider how life can be different to what we know it to be.
I undertook my own experiment a couple of weeks ago as I went out to take photographs, as I do every year, at dawn on 30th December, the anniversary of my father’s passing. This year, I decided to return to the location which I first visited on the 30th back in 2013. I wanted to sense what it would feel like to be back 10 years on, to consider what has passed, changed, how I see the world differently.
In terms of making any photographs, I felt trapped by the past. I couldn’t escape the images that I made ten years ago and as I slowly climbed the hill, the view felt dull and lifeless. I couldn’t help but feel like I should be somewhere else. As much as I wanted to return and reflect, I had the need to explore something beyond what I had explored before. I got back to the car feeling slightly dejected, without much to show for my early morning efforts, but as I drove away I crossed the river and felt compelled to stop. I took 10 minutes to explore the riverbank and the combination of light, mist and the flowing river resonated.
What I was looking for wasn’t at the top looking down, it was down in the valley. I didn’t need to return and replicate, I needed to respond to the now, to trust my instinct and allow myself to explore.
This article is taken from my January Mailout, which also features Granta, Jack Whitefield, Detectorists and my interview with Nearest Truth/ASX.
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