I find this one hard to explain – which is weird, because for once, this photograph is actually utterly self-explanatory.
I titled it Personality.
Two of a kind, meaning very similar individuals or things, with one or more common characteristics… I can’t think of any object that fits this description better than shoes. They always come in pairs (two of a kind!) and each pair of shoes has the same core characteristics (two of a kind!). The right pair of shoes can mark you as belonging to a group and align you with a specific set of people. And yet…
If you have read one of my previous posts, you know that our move to Tucson had its ups and downs. What I may have failed to mention, is that in hindsight, I realize that those downs were mainly self inflicted. Happiness, after all, is a mindset. And my mind was not set on embracing our new life in Tucson. Rather, it was stuck on what was, what could have been, what should have been. But we all know that 2020 did not play by the rules and shoulda woulda coulda’s don’t really get us anywhere anyways.
For me, photography, as well as writing, has always been a reflection of my own personal world. When I joined this photography challenge, however, I was unaware that I would prove to be incapable of staging a photo, or even interpreting a challenge without it being a reflection of my own current inner reality… I guess you might say I’m a bit egocentric.
When the theme of our latest photography challenge – home – was announced, I tried to conjure up images of what that meant to me. I thought of my bedroom in my parent’s old home, where I spent hours gabbing with friends over the phone, reading, listening to music and generally perfecting the art of chilling out, day dreaming and doing nothing in particular. I thought of the patio of our shared condo – the first and so far last hubby and I have ever bought together – where we used to spend hours eating, talking and laughing, but mostly simply looking out over the beautiful city below us. I thought of our adventures in Atlanta and how they have shaped and changed me in more ways than I have room to describe in this post.
With social lives at an all time low across the globe in 2020, many of us have sought refuge in the various social networks the world wide web has to offer. As usual, I am no exception. From binge watching funny cat videos, endearing pregnancy announcements and an endless string of stupid yet hilarious memes, to living vicariously through other’s (past) adventures and travels; the ability to interact with others on social media may well have been what has kept me sane during this pandemic. Don’t get me wrong; I love hubby with every fiber of my being, but all this time cooped up together without hardly any real life social interaction with others has also meant that those same loving fibers sometimes just want to stick him behind the wallpaper… (If this pandemic has taught me anything, it is that I was not made for a life in solitude… and that I’m a tad dramatic.) Granted, not all interaction on social media is worth it, and with trolls abound it has the possibility to leave you feeling even more blue than before, but I have found a sense of community and belonging online that I was lacking in our current covid-ruled reality.
From my designated writing seat on the sofa, I see an abundance of things of all shapes and sizes – my tv: rectangle, my pillows: square, the ceramic plate hubby’s mom made for us: circle, the shapes on the bellies of my little owl candle holders: diamond, my sewing machine: whatever squiggly shape that may be, …
A few months ago, as hubby and I set off on our first exploration of our new neighborhood, we accidentally uncovered a little gem. Walking by our local park I noticed a Little Free Library elegantly placed on its corner, eagerly awaiting someone to bestow a little literary gift on. Perched atop was a neat little stack of old books and maps, and hidden away in the stack were 2 old diaries – dating all the way back to 1931 and 1933. Our curiosity was piqued and as we leafed through them, we soon realized that these were not just ratty old discarded never-felt-the-stroke-of-a-pen-on-its-pages diaries, but actual diaries, containing a real person’s memories and inner thoughts from days long gone.