Today an online session with my arts group led by the photographer Ray Hobbs. Ray showed photos from his own home, photos of family pictures, objects, places. And encouraged us to walk around our home mindfully, and with a camera, looking at things around us. At the end we shared our photographs and stories. It was a very simple instruction, and seemed like a very small thing; but it was not so very small, and not so completely simple after all.
I took my own photos within a few feet of where I am sitting here – photos of the shelf, the table, under the table, outside the door. In the first, the wooden bricks my father made for me as my first toys, that have been with me from before memory starts; my brother’s small pop-up painting journal that arrived here a few months ago, via a Devonian chimney-sweep lady. In the second my books, the work I am doing right now. In the third my yellow bag, a gift from my mother. In the fourth my dog, working hard with me from her suitcase bed under the table. In the fifth, the music station outside my door that fills up the space at the top of the stairs.
