Yeah, an actual roll. As in 35mm. Adjust the actual aperture and shutter speed, capture an image created from light, and an old-fashioned kind of magic.
Jude makes a beeline for a certain drawer of miscellaneous junk anytime my bedroom door is open. The things he finds! Today he handed me a roll of TMAX 100 speed b/w film. Instantly, I was having flashbacks.
Pitch black zigzag hallway into the darkroom, pupils slowly adjusting to the dim red light. The smell of chemicals. The magic of a blank white sheet of paper with the right cocktail of light exposure, developer, stopper, and whatever else we used to use in there, suddenly reavealing an image captured by a little black box. Locking myself into a pitch black closet, and learning to assemble and disassemble a film canister, and loading the precious film into it, realizing that if I were blind, I could find a way to make it work. Not that it would be easy, or anything, but being able to do something complicated with hands only, and no eyes, is a strange and potent confidence builder.
Also, there was something else. Something that at the time, I did not notice, or even value. Freedom. Just complete and utter freedom. I mean, yes, I had a part time job, and classes, and work to complete, but oh my. I served coffee, goofed around with coworkers, and made people smile by remembering their usual drink. And my homework was pottery, taking pictures, making paintings, writing essays. But really, I could go where I wanted, when I wanted. I did not really answer to anyone, and my mind was self-absorbed, uncluttered with the cares of other lives for whom I might be (AM) responsible.
That was another life, one that it's actually hard for me to believe I ever lived. If it were not for these vivid memories that surface every now and then, I wonder if I would forget all about it! They were good times, fun times, crazy times, and there are certainly aspects of those time that I miss now and then, but the truth is, there is a lot more weight in what I am doing now. Yes, there may be a frustrated artist inside of me still , but I am finding tiny ways to let her out, small outlets, and I rest in the knowledge that those tiny ways will find eventual expansion. Ok, so maybe I don't always rest in the knowledge; sometimes I squirm and writhe and fidget restlessly, but it passes. After all, those small outlets are holes that will stretch with use, changing shape, grow into actual windows, out of which my soul will pour. Or maybe ooze. My soul may be a little congealed from long stillness. Wait. No. NO. My soul has not been still, and it took me just writing that to fully realize it.
Even this little space is a small aperture, where I can squeeze out a bit of soul goo. I can't even bring myself to post without an image, that should tell me something. That's why I called it "fingerpaint" - If I have to paint with my keyboard, then so be it.
5 comments:
I think there are periods of dormancy in our lives...where a lot is actually going on, but it's more internal. As you say, the soul goo still leaks out, but it doesn't pour out as it once did. Still...I think you are growing as an artist, and when the time comes, you'll experience even greater satisfaction as an artist.
em, I like everything you write!
I wish I lived close to you still! I would come over and watch your munchkins so you could escape and let that soul ooze wherever it pleases.
beautiful post, emily.
soul goo and windows from which it pours, indeed.
I hope there is something going on, Nina, I feel like I go through my days rather blankly most days!
Thanks, guys, I appreciate the encouragement.
And, Jo, me too!
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