My mind is restless at the moment.
Last night I was standing washing prints having spent a few hours in the darkroom. Something unexpected happened. The solitude of a few hours with very little to concentrate on other than light and paper and chemicals is a welcome step away from normality. The music of Ludovico Einaudi floated in the air while I printed and the hours disappeared. It was close to 1am when I emerged into the harshness of the light in the kitchen.
It was quite a good session. Darkroom printing is all about working with tones, with light and dark. Pushing negatives to give up their secrets. Sometimes they are welcoming and offer endless possibilities. Sometimes they are less compliant. It can be the most rewarding and the most frustrating time.
So there I was, standing blinking in the hard electric light, my evening's prints in a tray under some cold water when I felt a breath on the back of my neck. The house was quiet apart from the hum of the lights and the splatter and gurgle of the running water. I turned around sharply expecting that my wife Valerie had wandered in to see what I was up to.
Nothing.
There was nobody there.
I thought my heart was going to explode.
I am not superstitious. In fact, I am quite sceptical (and some would say cynical). In the few minutes that followed I was rooted to the spot, afraid to make a noise. The logical part of my brain clicked into gear and I turned back to continue with my work.
It happened again.
This time I ignored it and continued with my work. Shortly afterwards I went to bed and lay awake in the darkness, listening. I realised that I was holding my breath, expecting to hear another sign of an extra presence in the house. It was a long night.
There is quite a bit of change in my life at the moment. There are things that I am unsure about and this is interesting as I generally have a lot of stability. Although I am unsure about the future, these changes are welcome and have been initiated by me. I need to stretch myself in my career and that means taking a step away from what I have known for many years. My son has changed school and that has changed our home routines. I have enjoyed these changes (and others that I won't mention) but they have made me restless.
I suspect that the breath on the back of my neck is a message from my subconscious. I am trying to tell myself something, perhaps I am trying to remind myself that something needs doing and the business of life has pushed my priorities around. My father once told me a story about his mother. In her later years she lived on her own. One night she awoke to hear footsteps coming from the attic above her bedroom. She had forgotten to do something that she did every year and her opinion was that this was a reminder from a lost loved one. My grandmother found this 'message' comforting. I'm not sure that I find the same comfort.
If it is something I have forgotten I really hope that I remember soon.
Until next time...
