Kindred souls,
I'm late, I know. I still work a full-time job alongside running this newsletter and trying to make as much walking progress as possible for my Things I Have Seen photo project. It's a lot, sometimes. But also worth it. Or at least, I hope it is. It has to be.
There's nothing there, they say
"There isn't anything there, is there? Like, what will you photograph? Bricks, empty streets and how soulless a place can be or something? I don't know, man. Good luck, I guess, but I wouldn't want it to be me. I mean, just thinking about walking those streets sounds utterly boring to me." There's definitely an element of truth to these words, but what strikes me most when people say them is how little imagination they seem to have. Perhaps it's just me who's the dreamer, trying to see something where there really isn't anything.
Nothing is boring for people with a good eye.
But, honestly, even if that's my naivety leading me, that's still the way I like to look at, and see myself in, the world: a marvelous place that always has something to offer. You just have to learn to appreciate a place for what it is. Or, as my friend and fellow photographer HEYTAGMIJ so eloquently puts it, "Nothing is boring for people with a good eye." And that's exactly why I'm going to the not-so-loved outskirts of the city.
Quiet, nice
It's 29 degrees Celsius right now; it will be 32 in a couple of hours. I have a moment to sneak in an afternoon walk, which is rare these days, so I have to take it. What I will do though, is see if I can walk next to water of some sort. Not that I want to go in it, not at all; I just like the idea of having a refreshing stream right there next to me while I add another 10K or so to my Things I Have Seen walking progress. What I'll also do is bring water, some more water, and I'll wear that bucket hat I purchased as a sample a couple of months ago but never dare to wear because I think it makes me look kinda dumb, but if I ever want to wear it then a day as hot as this one is definitely when it's warranted. Anyway, where do I find that water within the city limits and is a place I want to explore?
I park my car in an almost empty parking lot. The moment I turn off the engine, I hear it. Or actually, I don't hear it. It's just... silence. No constant rumbling from traffic, no light murmuring of voices in the distance. Nothing but the breeze through the young leaves on the average-sized trees and the occasional bird singing its song. It's eerily quiet here, to the point that it makes you feel like you're doing something wrong. "Good!" I think to myself, "Suburbs are made to be quiet. And Vathorst in particular has made a name for itself by being so far away from the city center. This should be interesting!" I maneuver myself to the nearest body of water I can find and decide to follow it for as long as it lets me.
After focussing my attention for so long on the inner parts of the city, it feels good to walk the outermost edges right now. The change in scenery sits very well with me. On this particular weekday afternoon, this area is firmly affirming its stereo-typification though. I am here to prove to people you don't need exciting city centers to make nice images, but the silence on these streets makes me almost second-guess myself. Maybe this place is actually boring...?
Maybe I'm not being fair to the place. It's the middle of the summer, and the general demographic that can afford the housing here is either still on vacation with their two children and dog or at work with the kids in daycare. The dog can fend for himself for an afternoon. Though maybe that, too, is an oversimplification. No matter how you twist and turn reality though, the fact remains that I'm walking these streets in solitude.
Appreciate, for what it is
Let it be clear: I'm not complaining. I actually enjoy the luxury of discovering an urban area without the scrutiny of its inhabitants. I know I mean no harm, but I realize how sketch a guy with a camera looking around every corner and under each stone can look to the outside. I have to look in these places though. That's where the true soul of a place is hidden. Especially when a place looks uninspiring from a distance, the details will give away what it's really like there. Little staircases leading into the canals so people can swim? Of course. Oh, but there's grass growing in front of it. Do people actually use these, then? Looking around at balconies and banks, you spot a lot of boats, boards, and even rafts. All of that means something. It tells you how life is lived here.
The homes are nice, clean, though functional. Straight edges, lots of brick and tiles, plants grow in pots to contain them, everybody has their own parking space. People who do have lush gardens do so to create privacy, both for them and for their neighbors. They probably have an amicable relationship, but they moved here to mind their own business, and they understand that about each other. No hard feelings about that wall of green separating us. This is how you build a neighborhood that doesn't require much upkeep or causes conflict. Everybody gets their own space, everybody keeps theirs neat, and the municipality takes care of the streets themselves.
If you live here, you have made a lifestyle choice. A choice you share with your neighbors. It's as if moving here is a non-verbal way of saying, "Look, life is nice and all, and I don't mind interacting with the world, but I worked hard to afford this, and when I come home, I simply want to enjoy my time. I don't want to endlessly worry about the upkeep of my home. I don't want to fight with my fellow people over parking spaces, BBQ smoke, or noise complaints. I simply want to live my life." This is probably a generalization that doesn't apply to everybody living here, but this is what the place feels like to me. And I don't think that's soulless at all.
Last, this, next month
Last month, I asked if people were interested in receiving home-made Zines in exchange for an Early Supporter membership. I was trying to test the waters to see where I could add some value in exchange for that small monthly fee. My hope was to receive some feedback of any kind to see where I 'sit' with my work and what it's worth to people. It wasn't very successful, but that's also fine. It's clear that's not where I should focus my energy.
I realize I'm completely doing things backwards here: finding my niche and then seeing if there's a need for it. I found the thing I'm interested in and excited by (if it's not clear, it's somewhere along the lines of exploring the world, mostly on foot, camera in hand, sharing how beautiful it can be if you know how to look at it), but how do you turn that into a sustainable business? It sounds like a recipe for a fruitful career as a Starving Artist. Thank the Almighty for that full-time job, eh?
It matters not. There's no way I can quit whatever it is we're building here. I have to express myself in this way, I need a creative outlet, I must discover how to share that enjoyment with other people. There are many people who perhaps don't have that, but I believe there are many more that do. It's them I am trying to appeal to. Because I believe it is together with them that I can make a change somewhere, however tiny it may be.
So with that in the back of my mind, I will steadily continue chugging along. Going on these walks, photographing as many things as I can, endlessly contemplating how to best present that work. Always pondering the meaning behind the making and the reason I feel this strong desire to explore. It's this tingling feeling in the deepest parts of my being that pushes me forward. Step by step, flick by flick, newsletter by newsletter, month by month, year by year,
Life by,
Mitch
