Being submerged is a magical feeling. It's quiet and otherworldly. I admire and encourage all photographers to try shooting underwater!
Feeling submerged by life... Doesn't feel so magical does it? No. You can swim the currents of life. I promise you. You are magical and your life is precious. We all are. In our own way. No more important than another...
Everyone you know is magic and does the most magical things. Maybe you think otherwise? Perhaps you think someone is not. It doesn't matter what you think. Why? That spark of life and sentience is the one thing that separates man from anything else on the planet. That in itself makes us magical. And life is precious no matter what anyone tells you otherwise. Listen to yourself. Do not drown or submerge yourself on circumstance or someone who has bad words for you or wants your envy. It doesn't make them a bad person... It means they simply disagree with you and want to control your opinion. You don't have to let them. Love them. I do. I get a kick out of watching them try to get me down.
Here's a story I wrote that was inspired by a video that looks and sounds like this...
And the story an image that captures the very essence of that photograph up top.
Enjoy!
Kisses, m.
(September 25, 2009)
Floating. Weightless. Sinking.
There are a million thoughts in my mind as I’m descending further toward a watery basin. The loose pieces of white sheets dance in the aquamarine expanse that surrounds. The long black tendrils of my hair reach up to grasp and the last remaining spark of golden light that penetrates the water’s surface.
It’s not clear to me how long I have before hitting the bottom, or perhaps even, how long I can continue to hold my breath. There are so many uncertain feelings in my gut. Would this time be different? Had I pushed him too far? Would he really let me drown? As I descend deeper and deeper, the pressure becomes heavier and it’s now a struggle to hold my breath. These last moments are becoming quieter and darker. The small glint of golden light is diminishing and the sea around me becomes bluish darkness.
Sinking me had always been a threat that neither of us took seriously. Artists. Painters. Writers. Photographers. All such passionate, emotional, misguided, highly wounded and intense individuals. Tempers to blame so very often. Even after he dropped me off a building, hit me with a car, and took a knife to my face, I still believed in his devotion… as all was in the sake of the craft and I was never in any harm. The beauty of the moment - the creation of a single timeless instant to be frozen for all eternity. After the anger there was always such impractical beauty. Researched. Polaroided. Cataloged. Painted. Hung in the museum, the gallery, or the rich man’s wall for all to envy. This time I’m afraid he’s quite determined and madness has taken over. The madman fitted me with a pair of cement shoes which seal my fate of sinking to the depths. This will be over soon I keep telling myself.
No point in struggling. That will only ensure that I’ll drown before the bottom. I’m wrapped tightly in 50 yards of white canvas bound by ropes from my shoulders to the base of my calves. Mummified in an still moment at the base of the ocean. The fool wanted to see the beauty in my sinking so he never wrapped my face. “There will be no need to gag you,” calmly he tells me as his hand brushes my cheek and pauses. Look him in the eye for answers. “You can't scream or struggle... you’ll suffocate.” There are none as his gaze breaks away. He lifts me and carry me to the edge of the dock. “We can’t change this. You understand? This is the epitome. The final boundary of this work is this challenge... You must see the beauty in this. I love you. Trust me.” Laugh. Kiss my forehead. Let go.
I’m falling. Watching his face from beneath the surface as it scrutinizes my descent.
Holding my breath is becoming unbearable. It’s quite apparent to me now… there’s no return we have begun. He follows me under. Pretty certain I’ll be reaching the threshold of my limits. Open my mouth to release a bubble of air. The time is almost here. I’m fading when he starts shooting. There’s no more strength but I press on. Take in water. Soon we'll have it… open eyes and mouth, pale white skin, blood red lips, and aquamarine darkness against white canvas. Breathtaking beauty, researched, photographed, cataloged and then painted. Still life.
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