Today I had a brief but exciting and
inspiring interaction with one of my favorite photographers. As I
stalked his Instagram feed, I came across a very simple and beautiful
black and white image of a kitchen light. One of those fifties types
that look like a carved glass tire bolted to the ceiling. I was
instantly transported back to my childhood home, and then this sudden
and super intense wave of emotion and nostalgia gripped me and the
tears were determined to do what they do. I wish SO MUCH that I had
taken some artful photos of the details there that now only live in
my memory. By the end, I was so single-mindedly focused on getting it
cleared out, and helping my Mom fight cancer, and moving, and trying
to settle into a new 30 hour per week job – but damn, I wish I
could go back in time and preserve some of those memories.
I thought I had some shots that I could
maybe work with, but they all turned out to be snapshots of the
evidence of what a crumbling mess it had become, in case the new
owner tried to pull some shit (which she was good at).
I'm still looking through the archives,
but I found this one in the "Lost Photos" folder. (I can't
remember why I named it that.) This was our front yard, just about five years ago, with the
beautiful walnut climbing tree – it was English grafted onto black.
The tree that passers-by would stop and take photos of. Rightly so.
The shed was our pump house. Mostly used to store my Dad's prized
garlic and red onions. I was always terrified of the inside, because
it housed a well, which I assumed led to the depths of nowhere.
Or
hell. Plus the spiders. OH, the spiders.
This space was so integral in the formation of my young creative spirit. Honestly the kind of thing I don't have words for. You just have to take my word for it.
It's all gone now. I see it five days a
week from the perspective of working across the street. What was this stunning tree and cool
spooky pump house is now flat dirt and weeds. Sometimes I am
overwhelmed by the nostalgia, to a point that I'm not sure how to
move forward. I put quite a bit into the making of this image, which
felt good, because it needed to be just right – just how I
remember.
~
