2022: 15. Get sick, get well, hang around a inkwell

I have been fortunate to have avoided the dreaded Covid over the past 2 plus years. I have also been fortunate to have been vaccinated and boostered. Due to my age, I received booster shot number four this week. With it came the expected cruddy feelings the following day. After shots two and three, I was pretty much down for the count the following day. Shot number four was no different. Body aches and extreme exhaustion were on the menu again. I made sure I had little work responsibilities for the day after, and spent most of the day in bed. I think I logged about 16 hours of sleep. Again, good fortune to be able to just stay in bed and sleep. There is an interesting element to this experience. Usually when one gets sick, one doesn’t know how bad or how long the illness will be. Add the unpredictability of the Covid pandemic to the mix and anxious days or weeks can easily follow. There is something very different when you know what to expect, having voluntarily introducing a small bit of disease into your system. Riding out the after effects was not pleasant at all, but the understanding that the pain and suffering would be finite made things much easier to process mentally. A surrender to the reality of the situation was comforting, as was a warm bed in a quiet house. Today, I feel almost back to normal. With the time to do nothing but rest came some time to sit quietly with my thoughts and ponder the plenty I have in my life, including the ability to get sick and then get well again.

2021: 12 "get sick, get well, hang around an inkwell"

Over a year into social isolation, virus anxiety and the pendulum swings of emotion have come to a turning point for me this week. I finally received my second covid vaccine dosage. Not wanting to rub salt in anyone’s wounds who are still waiting for their shot, of course… but thank goodness for my pre-existing condition… finally high blood pressure has its benefit. The side effects of the second shot (as many have prepped me for) came on strong within 24 hours of my shot. And it did hit me harder than I expected. Mostly fatigue, body aches, and a bit of fever. But I gladly rode it out, because I knew that the only way out was through it… to paraphrase a great movie. The interesting this about not feeling well for this short amount of time was that it made me realize that during the entire lockdown period, I never got a cold or the flu. Aside from some regular stomach duress (par for the course with my diet) I have not gotten sick this past year. I forgot what it felt like, honestly. And this isn’t some macabre, Munchausen-esque self-sabotage… it made me value the process of getting sick and then feeling well again. The day in bed reminded me of what recovery feels like. The emergence from illness, either mild or severe… it is part of being human. And from the existential standpoint, it is a process that will continue in life… until it doesn’t. What doesn’t kill me only makes me stronger. There is no joy without pain, there is no gain without loss. There is no light without dark. This past year I’ve learned many lessons, and will continue to do so, while putting into practice the insight gained. Case in point, I’ve explored creative avenues I would have never taken had I not been in enforced isolation. Sometimes bad, but more often good lessons learned. I have played with mediums completely new to me. At the top of this post is a strip of negatives from my “Sacrosanct” series. I encased it in clear resin, but of course not knowing how to do it correctly, created a rough surface with air bubbles and other deformities. But I like it that way. Flaunt those imperfections, indeed. The negative will never be printed again. Held in clear resin now and forever. Maybe a paperweight. Maybe ending at the bottom of a landfill someday. Dug up in a couple of hundred years by curious archaeologists, perhaps? I’m wondering how confused they will be by what they have discovered.

2020: 33 (A Respite)

I was able to saunter around Albuquerque for a few hours yesterday. An uncharacteristic cloud cover hung over the city, granting me extended photo time minus the usual harsh shadows of the high desert. Throughout this pandemic, I’ve had a deep desire to take a photo road trip… endless miles of road, a few cameras in the passenger seat. That is my release. Of course, this hasn’t happened in many months, and probably won’t happen anytime soon. So a precious escape around town, face masked and distanced from other people, will have to suffice. Thankfully, I live in a visually diverse city. Weird, wonderful Albuquerque. To quote The Stranglers… “I can think of a lot worse places to be…”

2020: 16 (Me and My Shadow)

Staying home and staying safe are the rules of the day. That being the case, I still need to be outside, in the ever-warming New Mexico spring. I’ve been getting exercise by running three times a week… right at dawn, before anyone is out on the streets (save for a few dog walkers.) On one of my off days from running, I still got out as the sun was rising, for a pre-breakfast walk through the neighborhood. I decided to run a roll of film into my old K1000, popped on my headphones, and zoned out into the morning light.

I was listening to a tranquil, ambient album by Japanese musician Hiroshi Yoshimura called “Music For Nine Postcards.” It pushed me into a deep meditative state as I strolled. The light was bright, casting sharp shadows. I was alone with myself. I created a series of self-portraits, as my shadow was cast against the trees, sidewalks, streets and buildings in my hood. Everything became slower, my vision more clear as I walked. It was a perfect balm for the pangs of anxiety, boredom and ennui I have been basking in lately.

Grab your headphones, listen to the album and browse the gallery below to take a morning walk with me.