Over the last couple of weeks, I've been on location, on set, on jobs, or as I like to call it, up-time. During this period, my energy is up, my focus is up, and I'm looking up. I wake up early, ready to take on the day, and people often ask me, "What's been up?" To which I'll respond with a bit of this and that about the project I'm on, or about to be on, and why it's either keeping me up at night or getting me hyped up.
But being on set isn't the only thing that constitutes up-time. It's all the hidden and tucked away stuff too, like sitting at my MacBook, working in my Google Drive, making notes, going for walks and spending lots of time thinking about what images could be made and how. I think and rethink over and over, even after we're done shooting for the day and during my morning coffee before getting back on set. I'm constantly thinking about the how and the what, not so much in anticipation, but more so in a "I just want to be making the thing already" type of way.
And then there's all the correspondence, the communication – more up-time. I enjoy it all, well mostly all of it, particularly when I'm in a good creative rhythm, and there's just the right amount of pressure. Pressure to see what can be made, what happens when we look under this rock and not that one. Not the kind of pressure that makes your stomach feel ick and lingers around for too long.
But when I spend a lot of time being up, I need to de-regulate, let my levels-level. I get into some down-time. The funny thing is, my down-time is often still spent thinking about images, about compositions, watering an idea, massaging an idea, playing with images, and maybe making a few images. The difference is that it's generally for zero reason apart from an impulse, a feeling, and a general interest, with no thought of any particular outcome.
Here are a few images I made during my recent down-time. Some were literally photographed during this time, and some were made by just messing around with files in my archive, which, if you've followed along with this newsletter, you'll know I love getting lost in.
I read a quote by Robin Wall Kimmerer, author of Braiding Sweetgrass.
“The more something is shared, the greater the value.” A sentiment and action I adore.
If you have the impulse and time, I’d love for you to share this newsletter with someone.
That’s it for this week.
BC