I went to the photography seminar exhibition today. A familiar space, modest exhibition, but the works were fascinating enough to suck all your attention and tickle your minds with interpretations and inspirations. The works were refined, less amateur, more mature, but also raw, out of pure curiosity, interest, and that inexperience, innocence, foolhardiness. What is captured are the unsettling moments between the transitory and exploratory period from an amateur student to becoming a professional.
It's like eating a half-fried egg on a pan.
Walking back home, my eyes were inclined to see pretty things, or see things prettily. Aftereffects of an art. I find much beauty in time-sensitive moments: when the sunset hits the buildings for five minutes, when the buds are growing out of the trees, and when the rain is barely . There's nothing to be translated. There's no content, messages or feelings. There's just awe. There's just desire to have it, the sadness of letting such desire go. I wish it was just pure awe for the moment. That's the best I can do.
Recently I find myself not even trying to deal with my obsession, appreciation. I don't take take photos of everything. "I'll do it later. I'll take out a day when I take photo of all these things I notice." But when will I? It's like, I don't even try to treat my illness. By ignoring the pain, I only get it worse. By refusing to struggle to see, I will just go blind.
Labor, my friend said. Labor gives fruit to all beauty. All beauty requires labor. Not all seeds bud.
Mothagesso.
