The power of photography, and coincidences

Call me sentimental, but I do believe that things happen for a reason. That there is something more than cosmic glue that holds the universe together, that there is truth behind the mystery of "the butterfly effect", and when these seemingly incoherent illogical yet lyrical rivulets flow into my stream of consciousness, i am filled with a deep appreciation of being alive, and so very present in second it happens...

I began to scan some really old photographs: friends, family, myself, all serving as visual reminders of a fleeting moment. Looking at each one, i seemingly instantaneously recall that exact moment in great detail, which then leap frogs me into a whole other sublime haze of wonder of that particular time. Oh the joys of hearing the shutter click, the sounds of plastic emulsion being pulled away from its tight spindle inside the body of the camera. Indeed what fond memories they were.

erase the bad, highlight the good...

Dad loved it. And because of him,  i grew up with it, and as I aged, it too became my all consuming passion. That film canister did not fall far from the Kodak tree.
As well as the guitar. But the film/movie machine became my bread and butter maker...

Could it be a strange coincidence that while perusing the Barnes and Noble site this evening, (and after seeing this, be on the precipice of suffering a fit of seizures from sheer excitement that) they are having a 50% off Criterion Collection DVD/Blu-Ray sale (!)  that our of sheer curiosity, I click on a title of a film that i have never seen before called "Everlasting Moments", that unbeknownst to me, was a story about a woman who finds solace and peace in photography?

I saw the trailer and almost wept at the utter beauty of this synchronous moment.
Me: reaching for memories of better times through photographs.
Me: searching for a connection to other through photography
the universe: teaching me that photography has been, and will always be, a very big part of my life.


I did a quick search on the web to find out more about this film that i had never seen, but now wanted to rather urgently, and came across this review. Once again, the timing and message were that of divine intervention because nothing can be so perfect as this moment.


A Real Heartfelt Flick about the Empowering Quality of Photography, 
13 January 2009

Author: eugenetard from Los Angeles

This movie was an enjoyable surprise to me, really worth watching. I don't speak Swedish or know of the director. I just saw it at the Aero in Santa Monica, where they screened the foreign film Golden Globe nominees, and I'm so glad I caught it.

It's set in Sweden back in the day, before and during WW I, and it follows the life of this Wife and Mother, and her family. This woman is a rock, and she's the soul and center of this story. She's got hardships out the wazoo, mainly an ever-growing number of mouths to feed during a war, and a drunken, philandering, impulsive, and abusive husband to deal with. 

She won a camera in a lottery before she was married, and, never having used it, tries to sell it for the cash. The old gentlemanly proprietor of the camera shop sees a chance to share his passion, and sets her up with film and developer and whatnot. Thus begins a friendship, maybe a platonic love-affair, between the two based on the power and beauty of picture-taking. 
And, as any film concerning photography should, this one looks Just Great. It's got a grainy sorta washed-out look that really takes you away to that time and place. But it also serves the tone and feel of her story really well. It takes you with her inside, into her picture- taking.
This is what I dug so much about this movie, was its take on the possibilities provided by photography, and Art in general. Where making art can take a person. This woman has such a bunch of trials and troubles, her family life is so stocked with drama, set against a backdrop of World War and labor strife. And yet she's able to transcend to some higher levels, and get something out of it, maybe make a little sense of it, whenever she takes out the camera and uses it. 
The different reactions and repercussions to her taking up photography are awesome. And the moments where we witness her really starting to get into it are so cool. The actress is so so good, and while she's a more-or-less ordinary-looking woman, when she's seeing her results of her picture-taking, her eyes just light up with such a subtle fascination and beauty. It's awesome. 
And for this stuff, the movie's a Must-See for folks who are into Photography &/or Film-making. We get to witness this woman's entry into her Artistic Space.
The photo-shop proprietor looks at her pictures and says "It's not everybody who really has the Gift of Seeing."
If you're down with that notion like I am, then See This Movie.

I have often told people: "When you don't listen to what God is telling you in a whisper, he hits you with a hammer on the head. "Hammer on the head! Some details and signs are just too obvious to be ignored!"

And tonight, before releasing the button on the shutter, the universe left it open long enough for an indelible image of my purpose in life to be frozen in time. A snapshot for me to look back upon and say: "Yes, I remember this moment, a moment in the raw."

A letter to a friend

a letter to a photographer friend today - a reply to his message after seeing my film
Clair Obscure.

I was surprised by what gushed forth
sometimes I surprise myself, in a good way :-)

Oh Dave,

you have no idea how much your message has touched me. So many emotions. I don't know where to begin...

first, I'll start from the end...

Interesting you picked up on the whole doc/60's-70's feel. I guess my religious viewing of films such as shock corridor (Sam Fuller), Titicut Follies (Frederick Wiseman), 2001 (Kubrick), A woman under the influence (Cassavettes) and of course, One Flew over the cuckoo's nest (Forman) and Let there be light (Huston). Film has been a huge part of my life. When my parents divorced, i was 11, and my weekly father's visits consisted of dinner @ Wendy's or McDonalds followed by a movie. That's all we did. That was his way of connecting. After watching a film, we'd go for ice cream and have our own "At the movies" critique session. You can imagine how interesting they were when we saw 2001 a Space Odyssey and Apocalypse Now (he snuck me into that one. Opening week - crazy insanity. He literally snuck me underneath his coat!!)

And when I did film production @ university, we were old school. 1990. Cutting film was an organic experience. Almost spiritual.

manic depression is often a ticking time bomb, present in the family tree and detonated during or after a traumatic event - my detonation was my parent's split. After that. puberty wreaked havoc until I was 19. That's when I had my full blown breakdown. It was ugly. It is truly a miracle I lived to tell the tale. I should have been dead by now, more than half a dozen times over...

After almost a year of being shuttled from emergency room to another, I was helped by a doctor who was starting a crisis clinic at one of the hospitals. She was a pioneer in her field and research into bipolar. It was the light at the end of the tunnel, but little did I know, the tunnel would be filled with sewage, rot and stigma. (funny enough - while I'm writing this, I just realized that the whole scene in the tunnel might have been a subconscious link to that...)

I was hospitalized for a week and then a day patient for a month. The big mental hospital is actually an old mansion on the mountain. Ornate, yet now devoid of all its glamour, it was a hollow shell of a once grandiose existence - so much like the life of a person with bipolar - after the crash...

I knew I was not 'crazy/over the edge" as some of the people there were, but i was not far from it. I had actually looked into the abyss. Stood on the precipice of no return. It was a welcome end to an existence filled with pain, confusion and relentless chaos. That ledge was so narrow. Despite my new 'medicated lithium state", it was terrifying to actually know that i was so close to jumping into an alternate reality because mine had become a living hell. The woman who sat in the waiting room, in the buss, arranging her groceries, watching out the window as the world passed her by, letting the wind blow through her hair. That could have been me. In that waiting room, in that other world...

what brought me back, i still don't know. But to this day, I am forever thankful that by some divine intervention, i returned. Perhaps it was the will to live, my higher reptilian brain telling me to push through. Or perhaps it was my old soul telling me it was my gift to be able to share this experience with the world. That my suffering was indeed necessary to be able to coherently explain life "on the other side" and to give others hope, and others insight into an existence that is nothing short of hell on earth...

Your relationship with your ex-girlfriend - bless your heart. We all need somebody as understanding and loving as you are to her. You are insightful and kind to realize that bipolar is something bigger than we are. It is bigger than our logical mind. It is our emotional mind on crack. It's the vortex of fear and isolation, of gravity and pain twisted around synapses that fire furiously, out of control, without a plan. Rabid. Paralyzing. What we say and do during our mixed states is not of our own consciousness. It is the muddled kaleidoscope of isolation, broken dreams and terror.

And ADD, I suffer from that too, albeit a mild version but  I know all too well how that can turn a normal task into a labyrinth of confusion and complication.  Mine runs into elliptical and illogical ruminations about death, paranoia and other worst case scenarios. Sometimes, I can't even step out of the house because I'm afraid that the earth will open up and swallow me whole, or that I will spontaneously combust. My mind checks over the details like a mega processor, but the computations never add up but information spews forth at random, adding to the confusion and chaos in my brain.

Dysthymic  Disorder - that languid melancholy, worn like a wet overcoat. How it turns the most beautiful sunset into a realization that another day has passed and life is that much shorter.  How the excitement of a new day is filtered through the density of apprehension that what we didn't do yesterday is yet another reason to put off what we could have done to what we should do, but then as the sunset begins, we get lost in an endless cycle of regret and what seems like idyllic hope. I really hope that you are able to manage those episodes. That you have found a medication to ease the pain. I have found that CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy has helped me a lot), but as with all ways of seeing and learning, it takes practice. The key is to stay positive and focused. Which for people like us, is nothing short of a hurdle in itself. Having friends who understand and believe in you are key.

But I think the worst part is dealing with the people who think "it's all in your head". Yes. It is. But despite that when they say : "just snap out of it" - mental illness is a chemical imbalance. The brain is a complex system of nerve tissue, fibers, neurons, dendrites and synapses - all working together or against each other. Even in the 21st century, science is still in the initial stages of comprehension and unraveling the mystery that is the human mind. I have had to deal with people who say: "just get a grip on life", "everybody has problems", "it's all in how you deal with it" or the best one: "buck up and face your problems like a man/woman".  It is my hope that one day, people who are these ignorant naysayers live one life in the mind of somebody who suffers as we have. I have no doubt that they would quickly change their mind and opinion, but until then, I try with my photography and films to drive the point home.

Did you see my "blue series" on flickr? I have a bunch of other "self portraits" that try to illustrate life on the other side of sanity. With each shutter click, i hope that one day I will get closer to being more cohesive, better at expressing my experiences. It's important that people know and understand. Ignorance breeds contempt and hatred. Our world is filled with enough of that. 
People who suffer by no will of their own need a fucken break. 

All my life i've had to deal with people labeling me a "weird/off/strange/psychotic/wacky". A good friend of mine from high school with whom i recently reconnected with said that people often came to her and asked: "why are you friends with her? She's pretty messed up." But she stuck through, believed in me and said - 'that's why she's so special. And that's why she's my friend." If only i had that kind of unconditional acceptance from my friends and family. 

After a nasty court settlement when i turned 20, my mother, father and both lawyers on both sides sat in our lawyer's office and when asked if we had any last words, I looked at him and pulled out a piece of paper.

"dad, you think that this is all in my head - this depression. this mania. my suffering. Here is a list of doctors that will tell you that I am in fact suffering from bipolar disorder. That it is real. I encourage you to get in touch with them and talk to them yourself."

without looking at me, he packed up his briefcase, took the paper, folded it into a tiny square and shoved it in his pocket. 


"Well, if I were to ask the doctors when all my problems started, they would say that it all started when you were born."

And with that, he left the room. His lawyer, my lawyer and mother all stood there, silent and shocked. His lawyer apologized profusely. So did our lawyer. So did my mom. It was something I would have to get used to.

How ironic is it that to this day, my dad, even though he has seen my film, still does not believe that what i suffer from is a legitimate and medical condition.

It is still something I am getting used to. But if my film can touch one person, then all of this will have been worth it.

And your message has made me smile.

I'm so happy that it touched your life. That means everything to me.

Please stay well Dave, and i have faith that one day, we will be able to share our stories on the battle field. We have come through the difficult task of survival, overcoming the stigma, and through that, will inspire others.

hpk