Out the corner of my eye I see a ‘photograph’. I blink and turn my head. For a moment the latent image stays in my memory and then fades. I look again, and this time decide to make something of this moment that would normally pass me by. I hold the camera in my left hand, with the light coming over my left shoulder and try to frame a semblance of what I remember seeing.
But what is going on here? I am making a photograph, but I am also capturing a memory of a moment for myself; of reading intently and not being able to exactly understand or being able to make sense of what the author has written.
My thoughts jump, I’m taken back to being a child and having a different relationship with photography. Capturing moments with this memory-making machine. Getting a picture that would remind me of something or someone somewhere sometime. Later a print is made from the negative and I re-remember an event that had faded.
Seeing the print sparks the thoughts that are associated with the elements in the picture, it’s feels like that moment when I might have been reminded of a dream. The memory comes back as a jumble of thoughts and feelings and sounds and pictures. The photograph is like a single moment from a dream. I don’t ‘make sense’ of this cacophony of thoughts and feelings.
When I show this picture to someone else they know nothing of these thoughts and feelings I share with this print, this photograph. I have to tell a story of the image, but in telling the story some magic, a relationship I had with the images fades.