Stepping forward…
@corynn_h, @olive_moon_dancewear
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of it. ― Omar Khayyám
My father would quote this passage from the Rubiyat from time to time but let me discover its meaning on my own. As I head into a new year with new challenges and opportunities, I am grateful to carry these words with me.
Photographs freeze time but they cannot stop it. The stream of seasons moves on, chipping away at us until the life force yields to it. Photography provides a window to contemplate its transitory beauty. But an image is a pale representation of the miracle that manifests for an instant then continues on its journey.
We can never catch time.
The New Year is starting out with promise. I will dance in a ballroom competition next week. Then I will travel to Colorado to see an old friend I have not seen since 1982. Then February will bring the Pas de Deux photography clinic in Austin, Texas. Or will it? What will the COVID virus do? Will it close the shutters on these plans, as it shut down restaurants, concerts, parties and other public gatherings on New Year’s Eve? Will it claim the lives of friends, or family? Will it finally catch me? And while we’re worrying about it, will we miss the other dangers coming for us?
I lost my friend Len Ferrington last year, a person I so admired that I once dressed up as him for Halloween. Len made the best of life but spent countless months isolated during the initial COVID lockdown. When the danger subsided he resumed his dancing and his plans for an extended environmental research project in Finland. Then, while riding a bike with his wife, a heart attack killed him without warning. I mourned his death but also the time he spent locked away from the things and many of the people he loved.
There is a very real sword over our heads. We can let it paralyze us with fear or we can move out of its way and try to disarm the warrior wielding it.
I completed my first shoot of a ballerina recently. As she leaped repeatedly into the air, correcting her knee position in one jump, her foot in another, I tried to capture the moment, the sense of weightlessness that carried her upward toward the light and the gravity that brought her home again. Her mother scrutinized her technique, encouraging her and making suggestions. My assistant, Laine Torres Bartley, scrutinized the images as they streamed into my laptop. She searched for flaws in the backdrop and suggested ways to alter the pattern of light and shadows. It was a team effort and the results were stronger for the collaboration. We had just two hours, including setup and teardown, to get things right. I am happy with the results but want to do it again. And again. And again. I want more.
Can we ever get enough? I suppose there may come a time when that happens. There is wisdom to be found in stillness. But for now, I choose movement. If one is to stop time, even for a split second, then one has to move with it.
