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Monday 11 November 2019

A family gathering, food, drink, merriment, an interlude. Or part of everyday life. And on the road, devouring space and time. These pictures. Holding still, a space, a time. And stories. Each gesture in a photograph. Human gestures. And these things all around, the objects that resonate with humans. I wonder about these non-human worlds. I look back at my photographs. The books I've made for the last decade of my life and see non-human worlds. I see these  non-human photographs and try to think how they resonate with my idea of the convivial camera. Convivial relates to enjoyment and pleasure. Camera relates to an instrument for conveying light into a form. I look at my photographs, just a few. They have an emptiness, maybe sadness, maybe melancholy. Something about the human condition, and these worlds of non-humans that end up as my photographs. At exactly the same moment a deeper though-feeling, a sort of underground energy, a strange sense of openness, a glimpse, in this moment of stillness. I imagine staying with one word, sort of contemplating or meditating on one word, for a minute, or more minutes. And trying to remember something of the mingling of thoughts and feelings, and then to try and articulate that experience, that words can't do justice to, so I dance around the experience for a while, the 'dance' a sort of embodied memory of movement, another memory of movement is rolling down banks of grass in the summer, any memory of movement will do. I suppose if I think about it, movement relates to dance for me. Dancing fingers, twiddling thumbs, wiggling toes, wobbling nose, through each day. I don't usually think about any of this sort of stuff, the day, yesterday, except, at the moment, for an hour or so I try to stay with these thoughts and feelings for a little longer. And this strange sense of emptiness. Not needing to be filled. Not a vessel. Not waiting. The feeling will pass. I drink some water. The coffee cup is empty. I'll get back to the day, fifteen minutes away. A journey, words travelling across a screen, slowly forming images, ping, and sounds. To think. To do today. To be today. To do, new fridge arriving, clear out hallway for entrance of new fridge and exit of old. To be? Less clear, less defined, more to do with a practise of 'being' and everyday life, rather than trying to be some thing, or some one, just being. Much more difficult to describe or explain, but still trying to gently hold this amorphous entity, like a cloud holding itself, holding a shape, that is imperceptibly changing and re-forming. Nearly time to re-awaken and dance with the day. At the moment probably slowly, aching back. Movement, walking, blood flowing, breathing, still. This day.

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