DAY 586

in {and out} Week 21: Abstract

The way that my photos and my texts mix together to create a consistent unit doesn't change very much every time I undertake this task but it never ceases to amaze me.

I often start with the capture of the image without a preconceived idea in mind about how the final result should be. I only prepare a scene (if I had to respond to this challenge) or let my eye leads me to what can be interesting or appealing and I play with the factors that are at my disposal. Even when I have to promote this mood consciously in the rest of my life, in this specific area it comes to me naturally… maybe because I feel in my element while creating.

Later on, the image suggests me a text that can be related to some recurrent themes or to something completely new. It can happens while I am taking the photo, along the post-processing or when I look at the final product, but I always can feel how a budding story line tries to emerge, how words that share a common thread come to my mind and I prepare myself to express it in writing.

All this process can be quick or can take more time depending on many aspects of it. This time, while I was shooting one picture after another, I was mainly concerned by emphasizing lines, shapes and colors rather than specific forms in order to create an abstract image. It was being a bit challenging but even so, while I was manipulating objects trying new compositions and new ways to focus the lens of the camera, a tiny, incipient, story started to develop.

Seashells were part of my childhood. Not only because I grew up by the sea, but because my father was an avid collector before my birth. In a given moment he got rid of his collections (I don't know exactly why) but there were some pieces at home and my mother preserved it after he passed away.

Looking at this image I can see the abstract creation that the challenge required and also, an abstraction of those early years because it somehow show how his passing (when I was only five years old) affected our lives and in particular, my life.

His death, all the unresolved issues that he left behind (that nobody, not even my mother, knew how to tackle at least not in a healthy way) and the resulting consequences, undermined many things inside me. It was not an immediate event, it happened gradually and insidiously. When I reached adult age I felt totally eroded inside regardless of what might be observed from outside. All the emptiness created by what I had to lose to survive, was filled with anger, and pain and fear.

I had to confront my past to take them outside and now I have all those charming nooks and hidden holes, all those odd angles and unexpected edges. I am learning to appreciate their beauty because it is the only way I have to move forward. 

I am learning to keep them clean, to let the wind and the light go through them, because I don't want them to be blocked again with the anger (or pain or fear) that still come to meet me when life becomes hard. 

I am learning to stay present and in the present, to stop revisiting the past and let go the “whys”, because there is nothing more to analyze, nothing more to be unraveled. 

In short, I am learning to focus on the things I have to complete, on the built-in issues that my story has: patience, tolerance, forgiveness, playfulness, dreams, acceptance… instead of on my need to make things better through demanding (and self-demanding) attitudes.


I am learning... 

I am just learning.


This entry is part of a project I am developing with my friend Montse Gallardo. We'll share a photo every week during 2015. Her photos will be always taken outside and my photos will be indoor shots only. We have created a Facebook page: In and Out. 52 weeks where you can see all the photos of the project.