Real Sunsets & Permanent Words

Catching the Light #1

Hello, howdy, dearest reader, one day I will figure out an opener that feels right,

Let me tell you something. I’ve been writing a post about my relationship with ‘play’ for months now, on and off. Months. Does that sound playful to you?

It’s true that my attachment to my phone is high and probably just as bad as yours (don’t give me that look). All the typical things have been pulling me back from writing. However, it’s occurred to me that there could be a lesson in this specific resistance, that maybe I’ve been craving writing some less curated posts - something to exist alongside the essay-type posts for a little breathing room.

A format that feels a bit more…playful, shall we say? A little pick ‘n’ mix for your mind. Some weeks the bag will be smaller than others, other times I might get a bit carried away with those white mice. Or those little discs with sprinkles on. They were bloomin’ great.

So, while I pause writing about being playful to actually be playful, let me introduce to you the first instalment of Catching The Light - a collection of things that have caught my eye and my mind recently that might also catch yours.

#1

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Let’s begin with this little private boat trip I took last week. Well, not quite. I was sitting in a stationary building in a nature reserve after photographing a wedding in the room next door. It felt like a mini retreat nonetheless. Look at how the water flows, maybe if you cover the left window you could be fooled into thinking I was sailing away.

Also, I would put my wedding photographer hat on more often for these little moments. Mid-week, 12 people, and an imaginary private boat? Go on then.

#2

Talking of places that look like boats but aren’t, I recently watched ‘Heart of the Ocean’ - a documentary on the Titanic film. Yes, I am writing to you about the Titanic movie. Not what you signed up for? Well, I promised creativity chat, and I don’t remember the last time you or I built a 775-foot replica of the Titanic. Seriously though, I had no idea of the sheer effort and skill that went into making us feel so immersed (for want of a better, less sinkable word…).

Yes, my pre-teen heart fell quickly for the Titanic film back in the nineties, like so many others - how perfectly timed it was for my age and my bedroom walls. But it was so much more than the romance and Leo’s floppy hair, and seeing what went into it confirms why I hit rewind on my VHS player So. Many. Times. (and no, not for that scene) My very late education went up a notch when I learned that the iconic moment of Jack & Rose at the bow featured a real sunset, ladies and gentlemen. Apparently James Cameron waited a week for “the kind of brooding sky that’s simultaneously beautiful and foreboding.” I believe we could be friends.

Behind the scenes of the Titanic film, blowing my mind 2 decades later.

#3

The Threads app has reminded me of how strange it feels for snippets of my thoughts to remain online for years to come. Weeks to come, even. I don’t know about you, but I enjoy the fleeting nature of Instagram Stories, even when it’s something I’ve put thought into - which is a good portion of the time. I don’t think the reason is any deeper than an urge for privacy and curation. 

It’s like a home I need to tidy; do I need to keep everything on show once the guests have been and gone? That vase has been left out for a week now… But that urge is as strong as my need to document and write, I just wonder if I can find a way for them to exist together, regardless of the platform. I think that’s why I find Instagram Stories so appealing; a thought can exist for as long as it sometimes needs to. Maybe it can go on and live for a bit longer over here or in a chunkier Instagram caption. But the in-between snippets, the Twitter lengths, have always felt like I’ve left a notebook open.

And I think the emphasis is on the notebook being left open, rather than the fact it is opened at all. It’s like the difference between sharing a favourite song of yours vs. a link to your entire Spotify profile (which is also something I go back and forth over).

The thing is, I know none of it really matters. No one’s life will be ruined by looking at my Spotify playlists (I’d argue your life would be enhanced, actually) or my Threads opinion in 3 years time. It’s the fact that they’ll still be there, blowing in the wind, and that feels a bit strange to me sometimes. Invisible visitors to words you might not relate to any more.

“Artists are people driven by the tension between the desire to communicate and the desire to hide” - D.W. Winnicott

I come back to this quote a lot. Right now, I’m wondering about the hiding part; is what I’ve described above ‘hiding’? Or is it knowing what I’m happy to share? I think it helps to know the difference within yourself, and recognise that holding back isn’t always a sign that you need to be encouraged to open up.

(I’d actually like to campaign to bring back a bit of mystery to the online world. But that’s a post for another time ;-) )

Thanks for catching some light with me.

I’ll finish with a lovely piece of music I’ve been playing a lot the past few weeks:

(Find yourself on an imaginary boat and it’ll sound even better)