A striking blue skied day, walking amidst the silver birches seeking reconnection with self. Seeking a sense of focus again in my life after what seems like a lull in my creativity. Shooting off photographs with little or no sense of purpose waiting to feel something, to see something.

… And then the sense to focus on my lack of focus, to explore this through my image making. To capture shots where there is no apparent focus, where the elements are disparate to one-another and no real sense can be made of the image.

Hence my lack of focus is reflected back to me. Seeing this allows something in me to open up, I create a space around my lack of focus; I breathe in the recognition that I do not need to know where I am going, what I am doing.To not try to make meaning is to start to explore the spaces in-between the tangible, the meaningful. I feel an excitement rising, to be lost without direction, knowing there are many maps I could draw on but not going there immediately and instead waiting…

I pick up my camera again and start to capture shots where the point of focus is absent, or not where you would expect it to be such as in-between objects. I am finding my way now through not knowing my way. And then it comes the realisation that it’s so hard for me to dwell in the not knowing, yet that this is the place where creativity emerges. The dormancy of Winter from which the Spring surges through. Can I truly allow myself to surrender to this fallow time knowing so much more can come if I really let go?

And then tears rise because certainty gives a sense of safety and there seems no certainty in the unknowing, the unfocused… And yet there are the seasons, the cycles the age old maps that sustain and provide the backdrop to our experience of life. And then there is a sense of loss, the loss, my loss I’m not too sure. Of grief of a turning and an absence before something…

I am challenged by this absence, by the space in-between one thing and another, between bodies, between moments. Challenged to give space, to trust, to know growth does not occur by staying in constant contact.

My wound is ripe in this ‘space in-between’ – ripe for activation, for transmutation. I smile and move on.


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