The doing, the sharing

In Film, notes, photography, Poetry, Querying on August 18, 2014 at 7:55 am

I’ll copy it out again in longhand – Dylan Thomas’ Fern Hill. Longhand vs typing: something like the difference between walking through an area and driving through it. You don’t notice the same things, you don’t experience the place in the same way.

I didn’t so much walk as I wobbled  over to the showing of À la découverte de Vivian Maier (Finding Vivian Maier) yesterday evening. (Fingers moving on the keys again, so I’m getting over whatever felled me.) From the evidence gathered by the man who found Maier’s trove at an auction house, she did make one attempt to contact someone who might have developed some of her photos. But there’s nothing to show (at least, not in the documentary) that she A) sent the letter, and B) pursued other attempts at public recognition for her work.

I am nothing like Vivian Maier in personality or in my primary choice of means of expression. But her photos are gripping and you have to wonder how someone could spend her life taking photographs (over one hundred thousand, at last count), photos she never shared with anyone. Were it not for that chance find at auction by this one person with the will to show her work, Vivian Maier’s photographs would not exist for others.

No mystery in why this is what holds my attention, this morning. In a note to myself last night I wrote:

the only questions that matter concerning my personal writing are: where do I find a decent home for the revised stories; and how do I go about finding it, so that I can put my energy on fixing another one of them, or writing a new one altogether. The divvying up of energy between those two aspects of the writing experience: complicated in itself. Plus, doing those things I’ve promised others I would do, plus the paying work, plus all the unexpected stuff.

This is where matters stand this morning.


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