Relearning to Play

And remembering photography is art.

I can’t build my van in 60 mph winds and driving rain. In the last month sunny days have followed by days of wet cold grey. Thankfully that is forecast to change next week so I shall remain patient. Until then, I thought I would write about something else. I’ve come to two realisations in the last month. Realisations I wish weren’t true but am glad to have had. These realisations occurred somewhere between the rejection emails to all the applications I did in January and my incredible days at Aesthetica.

The first realisation is this: taking photographs doesn’t currently feel like I am making art. I don’t know when that happened. Just the other week I said out loud that I hadn’t made any art since The Seagrass Walk. That isn’t true. I am working on a photographic documentary project exploring the site of a local wildfire. I have taken photographs there once a month since the fire last July. I’ve been out there no matter the weather, high winds, rain, winter sun, nothing has stopped me. I even have an exhibition space booked for November. Most importantly, I’m proud of the photographs. And yet, there I was saying I hadn’t made any art. And the statement felt true, because somehow taking photographs currently doesn’t feel like making art.

Long before I became a professional artist, I was a strong believer that photography is art. I still am. I don’t know what’s going on, and I am not sure how to combat it. Perhaps simply writing it here will help undo this nonsense. I hope so.

Zennor Head, November 2022

The second realisation is this: I have forgotten how to play with my ideas. Discussing a new idea of mine at my portfolio review with Raquel Villar Pérez during Aesthetica, she offered some fantastic advice. Empathising that the scale and importance of the idea must be intimidating, Raquel said to start playing, that playing around with my idea would help me find the framework for it. I know this. It’s advice I’ve received before and even given to others over the years. Start playing, start making. It doesn’t have to be good, doesn’t have to make sense, doesn’t have to be anything you would show to others, it is the act of play that matters. Playing and making will free up your mind, your hands, your imagination. It brings joy and gets the creative juices flowing far more effectively that anything else in the world. You can talk and write about an idea until you’ve used up all your words, but it will never be as effective as playing.

Somewhere along the way I’ve forgotten how to do this. I’ve forgotten how to start, how to make something that doesn’t matter, how to simply begin so that the page is no longer blank. Raquel’s advice is essential, and the first step is to remember how to do it. So, I guess I best get a blank piece of paper out.

I will show you the messes I make once I’ve remembered how. And fingers crossed the good weather comes as promised so I can return us all to the van build soon.