July 21, 2014
The other day I found myself at The Asheville Darkroom printing pictures. This is my first print in a little over 15 years, a photo taken last summer in New York.
It’s hard to describe the feeling of being back in the darkroom, of re-learning things I once knew like the back of my hand. Everything is vaguely familiar; the test strips, the smell of the chemicals, the sound of the timer. The quiet. I was fourteen when I took my first photography class, now I’m thirty-five. But being in there, under the haze of red light, feels like not much has really changed. I’m so glad to be back.
June 3, 2014
May 1, 2014
April 28, 2014
April 7, 2014
March 31, 2014
I don’t really know where to begin. So I suppose I’ll just start writing and figure it out later. It’s quite pretty out right now, in the low 70s today and henceforth all through the week. This weather makes me want to go camping, to sit outside and read a book, to eat fatuoush salad and cilantro green beans, to see friends who have been gone all winter that I miss dearly. I can hardly put into words how badly I want to get in the car and take a road trip. To drive and drive and drive, through mountains, down secondary highways, along an ocean would be nice. To camp wherever we feel like, to get up in the morning with no agenda, no plan, other than to hop in the car and see where we end up.
Years ago, when we lived in Seattle for a few months, we started what has since become known as Bainbridge Day. We woke up one morning, it was a Wednesday I remember and the sky was the brightest of blues after days of rain, and rather than do our usual of looking for jobs and trying to figure out what we were doing with our life, we decided to get the hell out of town. I had a deadline that day for an article I was writing, but as is a requirement of Bainbridge Day, I shirked my responsibilities, sent an email saying I’d have it done tomorrow and turned my phone off for the rest of the day. Then Drew and I packed a backpack, walked down to the ferry, headed out to Bainbridge Island where we walked around aimlessly for miles, sat by the water, ate mussels, talked for hours over beers, and then as it got dark we got back on the ferry, slowly moving toward the skyline all lit up like Christmas lights.
The one requirement of the day was that we weren’t allowed to talk about anything that stressed us out; money, jobs, perceived family expectations, not feeling creative enough, and so on. All the things that we talked about everyday, all the time, whether out loud or in our heads. We also allowed ourselves to spend money without feeling guilty, two things that for me, usually went hand in hand. The whole day felt so liberating, so wildly exciting to do something so nice for ourselves, to have such carefree fun together even in the midst of so much uncertainty.
Since then we’ve had a Bainbridge Day at least once a year, if not more. They’re always unplanned, on a weekday so you have to shirk some of your responsibilities and expectations of yourself, usually decided by that gut feeling you have sometime in between waking up and walking out the door to go to work. The perfect day to be a tourist in your town. Or to hit the road.
This post is for my dear friend Georgia who is moving to Maine this week and whom I will miss oh so very much. I hope you have yourself some lovely Bainbridge Days in your new town. I can’t wait to be pen pals.