Friday Photo: The Cat Has My Worry Beads

Friday Photo

So here then is another one of those storytelling photos. What I really love about the right photo is the immaculate clutter. It’s not messy, but it’s not tidy either. A place for everything, and everything in its place–it’s just that those places are random and held there by invisible string only for that moment. And I think that’s important. I think when a photo clicks, when you know it works, it doesn’t feel as if the moment is simply frozen by the shutter, it feels as if somehow the moment was designed for this shot. That the confluence of shapes and patterns somehow align perfectly for a photograph and if you’re lucky and you have a camera on you you are able to record exactly that. I don’t know, perhaps this appeals to me because I lead a spartan and ascetic life. I don’t drink or smoke. I live on a small island accessible only by a small boat, which the ferryman takes out twice a day providing the weather is clement and the dark howling moods he is prone to have meant that he was able to get out of bed that day. There is no running water here. We rely on rainwater for everything. Nor is there electricity. So the rhythms of the day are dictated by the sun. What little wi-fi I have is powered by a hamster in a cage. But the hamster is fat and indolent and too old and wise to scamper around in his wheel for very long. He prefers to slump in the angled crook of the cage and watch the cat bat my worry beads across the floor. And I think that’s it exactly this existence that sharpens me to the small subtle energies of a scene. Everyone here is connected. Even if for some of them that connection is only the contemplation of their subconscious place in this photograph.

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