Friday the 13th

Untitled © Chrissie Smolders

I am not one for superstition, but today was under a bad spell. Before I entered the B62 from Gold St to Bedford Ave, the bus had gotten quite full. I sat down on a seat reserved for the elderly and disabled, next to a teenage boy. He was wearing baggy pants and sat down comfortably. As we sat together, our legs touched.

Whenever I touch a stranger, I make sure to quickly get some space between us. It's not about not wanting to touch the stranger, it is an act of insecurity. When one moves away, it is a rejection of the other. I feel like I don't want to experience this too often, which is why mostly it is me who moves away first.
Today however, both of us did not move. For about fifteen minutes we sat there.
I could feel the warmth of his body through both of our jeans. A man came in and sat down next to me on the other side. Heading towards a difficult task, I felt safe and comforted. I watched people enter the bus and leave, like a simple display of life. At some point, the boy got up and left. The sudden loss of warmth against my body felt like a big gaping hole. I got cold. And I thought about how nice it had been, touching this stranger. About how uncommon it felt that we did not move away from each other.

Somewhere to Disappear

On Monday I went to see the screening of Somewhere to Disappear. The film is about Alec Soth, a well-known photographer and one who I very much admire.

Laure Flammarion and Arnaud Uyttenhove, two young filmmakers from Europe, followed Soth for two years in his search for men who have turned away from society (and also to find a cave). After the film followed a Q&A by Chris Boot from Aperture.

Personally I enjoyed the film. Although the use of music was too heavy sometimes, the movie was easy to watch and gave me ideas to think and write about. I thought it was interesting to see how Soth works with his subjects and Flammarion and Uyttenhove gave room for the characters to get some depth. One thing that came forward that was very interesting to me, was that Soth spoke about the need for human connection. We see people that feel a strong disconnection and suspicion of modern-day society.  They have often had hard lives. And even though they willfully detach themselves, they miss the attention that comes from others. A lot of people enjoy the attention a photographer gives them.

A lot of people are lonely.

Still, each man he finds is interesting enough to make a documentary about, and I felt the need to hear and see more about them. Besides that, it was hard to escape the stereotyped runaway like the skinhead with a Nazi-symbol tattooed on his arm, or the hermit that is convinced the government is after him.

What also wasn’t shown were the pictures Soth made during the trip. Although I could do without them, I can imagine they could’ve made the film stronger and the scenes more visually accessible, especially for those who aren’t familiar with Soth’s work.

In the end, I definitely think the film is worth watching. Soth makes some interesting comments and I could identify with his search for the runaways, and his personal longing to disappear. 

But one of the most important things for me was that it shows his own vulnerability, as a person and as a photographer. Sometimes the search for something worthwhile can be a lonely one. 

And Alec Soth needed people around him just as much as the subjects he took pictures of.

Home and Away

                                                                                           Waiting © Chrissie Smolders

I remember Amy saying that I was like a stranger here: I can view and capture, but I don’t have real access to life in New York City. Outside of the vicinity of 151 Kent, I believe this to be true.  Even though I go through daily life here like any other, I am often reminded of not being an American.  It’s a fun and learning experience.  Being away from my homeland makes it possible for me to view Holland from a distance and America from up close. I feel like I’m experiencing both an objective and subjective vision of both countries at the same time.

The weird sentences I sometimes put together draw laughter from my friends here, as well as me never having tasted peanutbutter with jelly before. They took me in as one of their own immediately, and I am forever thankful. Being with them and living as a resident, not as a visitor, made it possible for me blend in with the American crowd. I do think that makes it easier for me to walk around in neighborhoods where I’ve never been before, without feeling like an intruder.

Being in a strange surrounding often makes it hard for me to be confident as a photographer. It makes me hesitate, hurry or just not take the picture.

I suppose I’m not the only one experiencing this, and hopefully it will go away with time.  That and using my strong will to not listen to my fears, but to my wants.

A strengthening thought also is that I know that I am the one who has the most influence on what I do.

For as far as photography goes, I embrace being an outsider. I believe it makes it easier for me to see what is there in front of me, to observe, to wonder. I catch myself looking into homes, behind fences, always so curious to see what goes on in other people’s lives.  All that is there are clues to what they think is important, or useless. What they think is beautiful.

I know that I have the same curiosity in Holland, but it seems like I miss a vital part there.  I miss the curious eye that I have here, one that I have while I wander around and that is still able to catch a special scene in daily life.

I suppose I just don’t go strolling about at home. Everything seems so familiar that I don’t look for that which I have not seen yet. Even though I know that there are enough parts of the Netherlands which I have not seen yet with my own eyes.

That will be a new resolution for when I go back home.  I need to not close myself off for familiarity and keep an open mind for that which seems dull in my mind.

For the next 6 weeks though, I am still in America, and I am going to make the most of  me being in these unfamiliar waters.