So, it finally happened on Day 12. The subconscious agents of whomever's dream I'm in finally recognized they had a foreign element in their midst. "Eradicate...Eradicate...Eradicate" they seemed to moan with each approaching foot step that pervaded and reverberated through every pore of my being like the polluted acid rain of a paranoid future that hungrily waits in the shadows with tensed jowls, an iron lung, and pockets full of the lonely spoiled meat of our precarious and misguided times.
One of the reasons I like going out at sunrise to photograph is that there aren't many people or distractions which allows you to get into a sleep deprived coffee fueled right-brained zone/fog/cloud/antiseptic mist/what-have-you. Most mornings the few people you do run into just give you a tired head nod that says, "Oh you're up too? Yeah, it's way too early." It's like there's some sort of unspoken club. Most times. The morning of day 12 was a bit different.
As I was in my own world taking pictures of cracks in the pavement, garbage, and leaves in the parking lot of the nearby Ralph's I noticed a woman in her car smoking cigarettes and talking loudly on her cell phone. I started to get a strange vibe from her, but decided that it's all in my head and I should just ignore it. Several minutes later as I was smashed against a wall taking pictures of it, getting the real "nitty-gritty," figuratively and nearly quite literally becoming one with this wall, I hear a voice break through that beautiful golden silence of the morning. It was a voice as soft and soothing as a styrofoam cup full of broken glass, vinegar, and bees, that said, "Excuse me, I go to this school here. What are you taking pictures of?"
First of all, there's a school here? I thought this was a Ralph's parking lot. Secondly, my brain had a difficult time trying to comprehend the juxtaposition of those two statements. At first I thought maybe she was taking a photography class and had a photo question, but I didn't detect that sort of curiosity in her voice. Maybe it was the use of the word "of" that threw me. What did she mean "of"? She'd been watching me, she'd seen what I'd been taking pictures "of," so that couldn't be what she really meant. Then I thought, actually, what a great question! What am I taking pictures of? And immediately I felt very distant like I was from another planet. I wasn't prepared to answer that question in the context of that situation. At that moment it seemed too pretentious, and maybe somewhat naive or just maybe a heaping of grandiose self-importance onto what I am doing, to say, "I'm taking pictures of humanity and the way our identity is manifested and reflected in the evidence we leave behind, like tire marks on the pavement, or the way those plastic crates were stacked and then fell over." And that probably would have made about as much sense as what I was able to stutter out in my 7am delirium and confusion, which I put as eloquently as a styrofoam cup full of broken glass, vinegar, and bees, "ohhh...light, shadows, shape, uhm...abstract compositions."
She seemed to accept that answer, if a bit confused, and I suppose that sounded enough like I was actually doing "something." But her response was beautiful. I'm still reeling in its understated profundity. She said, "Oh, ok, cuz I was scared." And that's it! That's the big looming unspoken force that can envelope you every time you go out to take pictures. It's that feeling that what you're doing is being perceived as something "bad" or "dubious" that causes an awkward self-awareness that is completely detrimental to the process of what you're trying to accomplish. That's the feeling you always try to keep outside the door. Don't let that monkey into this party! And something like that always seems to happen just when you're starting to let that element go. Once you've convinced yourself that it's all in your head and that's not how people perceive what you are doing. Once you let your paranoia go someone comes over and goes, "here I think you dropped this."
And who or what is responsible for such a nefarious perception anyways? Is it just a heightened sense of awareness people have when there is something unusual happening in their environment? And what does it say about our society? Are we that paranoid? Is the act of capturing light onto something tangible like film or a computer chip so powerful that it can induce fear? Is that a rational response to have? Is picture taking such a strange and unnatural thing to do? Is it my beard? Do I need to start wearing a shirt that says, "Don't mind me I'm not weird or anything I'm just a human being. Would it make you more comfortable if I shaved off the beard?" And thank God I don't drive a mini-van anymore. Or maybe I just need a t-shirt that says, "DON'T LET THAT MONKEY INTO THIS PARTY!"
So, anyways, that was Day 12. And this is what I take pictures of.
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