amomentadrift

It happened in aberdeen, scotland. I was standing in the middle of a street trying to take a picture. I pushed the off button on my camera and raced to the sidewalk to avoid the traffic. but instead of dutifully retracting into its body, my camera lens jammed open. it couldn’t be revived no matter how many times I pushed the on button or changed the battery or wished it to work. After returning to edinburgh, I somehow convinced myself that I could fix it… that I could revive it from its coma. And then, with my own bare hands, I murdered it.

And what amazed me is how its death absolutely devastated me. I’ve talked about it a number of times, but exploring my new surroundings through photography has been a truly enjoyable and rewarding experience. And now here lay my precious little camera… murdered at my own hands. I was so frustrated by my lack of patience and insistence on trying to fix it. And I was heart broken to think about losing it… not just because of its cost, but because it felt like it represented losing my ability to take “good” photographs. And somewhere amidst my anguish, I was reminded of a quote I had read months before. I don’t remember it verbatim, but it read something like… “to have material possessions is to suffer.”

And the more angry I was about losing this possession, the more I kept coming back to that quote. Here was an object that I had become so attached to… convinced that my photographic ability was derived directly from it, like some sort of visual divining rod. And the rage and anger I felt at its loss… at its reduction to the broken fragments of plastic and glass and metal from which it came… these thoughts kept returning to the subject of that quote. That it was only my attachment to this possession that created these feelings… and yet this object no more defined my ability to photograph than any other object did or could. And this object was just that… simply an object… no more connected to me than any other object constructed by the hands of man.

I’m still frustrated about losing my camera… but its thoughts like these that seem to put things in a better perspective.

Loch Lomond - from the top of Conic Hill
taken with a borrowed camera

This weekend I took a road trip through some areas of scotland north of edinburgh… including loch lomond, stirling, crieff, dunkeld and perth. Even though there’s so much activity happening in edinburgh right now, it felt good to get out and see the countryside. From small farm backroads to tiny cobblestone alleyways hidden between buildings from the 18th century… the day was full of hidden surprises… and hidden beauty.

I love the city. I love its energy… its beat. I can’t help feel a sense of romance when I see a twinkling city skyline pressed against the dark of the night. It feels magical… but the countryside is not without its charms as well. The cool misty air at the foot of the scottish highlands… rolling grassy hills, blanketed in rich purple heather… dotted with countless grazing animals and weeping trees. The calm loch waters lazily lapping against rocky shorelines… nestled between distant peaks.

The city draws us together like a wanton mistress… with a ferver and heat at its lips. It pulses in our ears and burns at our tounge… consuming us in its embrace… invigorating our spirit but briefly… leaving us lifeless in its retreat. And the country beckons… like cool water to our lips… to calm and revive us… to remind us that we were not born from the concrete and block and piercing artifical light… that we came from the  wooded hills… from the windy plains… with grass and sand and rock at our feet. And so we breathe deep and slow… listening… quiet. And we feel… we wait… and leave again.

I’ve decided to undertake a small group photography project while I’m here in scotland… RandomThoughtShot. It’s a pretty simple project… challenging you to take something written… something random… and translate it into something visual. I want to keep the project pretty simple… and open to interpretation. And it’s open to anyone. Including you.

On August 29th, I will post 6 words/phrases/sayings/what have you on the RTS website. Take these words… take your camera… and shoot something. Then… I’ll want you to tell me why you shot what you did. Easy.

It’ll be fun.

I’ve been in edinburgh a little over a month now. It’s amazing how quickly time moves… when you stop moving. The days felt so long before coming here to scotland. But the days here have also been filled with new friends, new places, and new experiences. In august, edinburgh is full of festivals and events. One of which is the edinburgh fringe festival… one of the largest comedy and theater festivals in the world. The city is full of people right now and hums with excitement. I also visited glasgow this past week…  a larger city with a more industrial and blue collar feel but rich with history and character. I’m planning an ireland trip for early september… and will spend a few weeks going through cork, gallway, and dublin. I’m also reserching walking the west highland way - a 95 mile trail near the western shores of scotland. This trail would be similar to the camino - except that I would free camp along the way and the weather would likely be harsher. But the thought of experiencing this beautiful scottish landscape in quiet and by foot appeals to me… as even to this day I miss the experience of the camino.

And as plans are made, plans are changed. My stay in scotland has been longer than originally anticipated… but has been a beautiful time in many respects… and my visit will continue on still. Hardly feels like summer most days… but warm days are quickly replaced by the warmth of the people I’ve encountered here. The scots are a proud people… friendly beyond all expectation… and though I have a hard time understanding them, learning about them has been interesting. And the town is full of other visitors, expats… australians, spaniards, french… a colorful mixture of languages and cultures.

a scottish ceilidh
a folk dance not unlike square dancing. The best good ol’ fashioned time I’ve had in years.

This past weekend I went camping on crammond island… a small island near edinburgh, scotland. A long causeway leads from the shore to the island… offering a path only during low tide… which occurs early in the morning and mid evening. It’s a bit of a strange feeling to be “trapped” on an island… within sight of the edinburgh skyline… and yet so disconnected. The island is littered with old WWII bunkers that I was told were used once to defend the mouth of the firth of fourth. Now these small concrete, graffiti laden structures are crumbling shelters for visitors to the island. You can still see the foundations where large guns were once attached inside of them… and look through portholes where the guns were aimed out into verdant countryside.

Though strikingly beautiful… the island, like much of scotland I’ve experienced so far, was wet and cold. Even more than when I lived in seattle, a beautiful sunny day here is a bit of an anomaly… something to be celebrated and revered. And made even that much more special.

I’m about 4 days shy of having been on the road for 3 months. A nice round figure I guess. Do I feel different? Have I learned anything? Gained new insight… changed? Perhaps it’s too early to tell… or perhaps these things happen too gradual. Like when you look at old pictures of yourself at a younger age… and are shocked at how different you really looked back then. Those changes happen too slowly to be noticed in the day to day. And perhaps these changes are the same. I’ve laughed, loved, cried, seen new and amazing things… felt lonely, scared, content, bored, happy…

perhaps only later I will understand what this all amounts to.