Venturing out from behind the glass

What was it that happened next? Part II

Well, if it isn’t the universe throwing me a bone.

Today I went looking for a box to use on our camper van trip when I noticed a sturdy one in the corner of the garage. It only had a couple of things in it so I figured it was an easy sort out.

One of its contents was a black brick-sized box which had be sealed and opened, resealed and opened, now left half sealed, half prized open. I instantly recognized it as super sized external hard drive I had used a decade earlier for backing up my iMac. On moving it I noticed there were two smaller external hard drives nestled just inside the top. The red one had a large white sticker on it, perhaps from my more organised days during one of our moves.

It read ‘Malaysia, Masters and early Dubai’.

Instantly intrigued I brought it inside and connected it to my computer.

The contents surprised me, in both the delight of lost treasure and yet also in a very real ‘is this how you remember them?’ way. It took me a moment to reconfigure my thoughts.

Many images, like this one, a phone picture from our first abode in Dubai, just as I remember it. Clear vertical lines, the warmth of the reflected sun. A similar shot to one I might possibly capture now.

Other images, I recall taking but my recollection of their quality is quite different. I hesitate to be too harsh on my past self. The self who was confident, celebrated, newly graduated who didn’t know what she didn’t know.

My storytelling was on point and my composition, my guarding each corner of the frame to ensure everything supported the story somehow… all the things we were taught in Paris as the next Reuters or AP journalists. Documentarians delivering images to a world which would read every fine detail although in a flash then move onto the article. Our storytelling was required to be strong and cohesive, impactful and adhere to a set of rules.

BUT my use of light left a lot to be desired. So busy getting everything else right that the light became secondary to story. From one extreme of blown highlights to blacks so black it’s almost impossible to read any detail.

Not terrible work, not in the slightest, it was work created with intention, focus and determination but the real harnessing of light, the working, dancing and moulding of it would come at a later date. And the falling in love with light, well that was MUCH later.

I didn’t know then but if it’s one thing life in the Middle East would teach me and that was working with light. Here is a series on that red external that I shot, again on my phone, exploring the ground level of Jumeriah Lakes Towers, where we lived. Below the buildings, away from the glitz, stripping back to form.

Now where was I in the story? Ah yes arriving into Dubai. Part II

Still learning to balance light, a highway underpass in Dubai

SLIGHT INTERJECTION - I have been feeling my way with Substack over the last couple of years, over promised, under delivered, had days of sharing with gumption and weeks of hiding from it too.

What I have come to realize, like it took me a long time with Insta and I’m still not there with FB. X (Twitter) always terrified me - so many words, so many opinions and threads. Snapchat was fun with my kids for a while…. WHAT I REALIZE is that all of these platforms are here for our wild minds.

Yours and mine.

The wonderful

Olivia Day

said to me recently - Substack is for writers - and I absolutely love that (I’m a closet writer, I only really admit it occasionally) but like anything there really is no guide book.

I’m here to share my story and some lessons along the way. Advice, support, encouragement, empowerment. There will be an evolution ofcourse but this isn’t a book. It isn’t a journal or online course. It’s not a how-to or in some cases how-not-to.

For me it’s a way to make sense of the journey I have been on that has got me to where I am today. And where is that? I’m still working out - in late 2022 in a fit of rage and inner empowerment I had WARRIOR tattooed on the right wrist and it felt like the most me-not me thing I had ever done. I feel pulled to share my art and vision with the world and help others slow down and see the world as more than just a series of actions, reactions, stress inducers and calm moment seeking to counteract them all.

For example - this morning I was lying in bed recollecting the sensation of the GLASS BOX I was referring to in my last post and wondering how I am going to fit it into my story and my writing here. The sense of stress rose yet again, and yet again I reminded myself that perhaps like the way I use Instagram Substack can be my way of processing this wild journey I have been on.

Will it piece together like a jigsaw? Perhaps maybe not, life is not a perfect jigsaw. I know I have already lost a whole bunch of pieces down the back of the sofa, the dog ate two and there’s that one which was soaked in spilt coffee one day and now the picture has peeled off.