'Anthropos' by Deborah Levy

From Hot Milk, shortlisted for the 2016 Man Booker Prize

I kept on walking in a daze. I had made something happy. I was shaking and I knew that I had held myself in for too long, in my body, in my skin, the word anthropology from the Greek anthropos meaning 'human', and logia, meaning 'study'. If anthropology is the study of humankind from its beginning millions of years ago to this day, I am not very good at studying myself. I have researched aboriginal culture, Mayan hieroglyphics and the corporate culture of a Japanese car manufacturer, and I have written essays on the internal logic of various other societies, but I haven't a clue about my own logic. Suddenly that was the best thing that ever happened to me. What I felt most was the way she had squeezed the medusa sting on my shoulder.

Relationship with Photography

If we spend time together, your life will end up on my film. For so many of my friends, I think this is a known fact, if not an expectation. My friends have laughed at me for bringing around not one, not two but three or four cameras around with me on some of the occasions we've gone out. It's true. Sometimes, it's even worse. A lot of my lived experiences become projections, for better or worse. Here to remind me of moments and fleeting connections. Maybe there to portray my life in a certain kind of light to others.

I don't know how I feel about the word shutterbug.

A guy I once dated, once fell entirely in love with, was a photographer in essence. He took photos of so many things. From art to graffiti to architecture, to lines, to stupid stuff he found on the street, to photos of us in bed. I learned so much from watching him work. He saw the world in a way that I would later describe to another date: the way artists see the world. It is no longer just objects against a background, or subjects in focus. It is everything. It is how lines manifest in reality, the intricacies of colour against colour. The way the world, the way reality becomes reality. Artists recognize this. To see the world with an artistic eye. He made me see things differently. Him and the work of so many photographers, famous and not, helped me see beyond mundanity. Beyond the day-to-day, possibly to see more of the day-to-day. There are so many photographers whose focus are on the everyday; the mundane rather than the absurd. The understated rather than the glam. Through their inspiration, I want to record my life.

Hanna is a dear friend, a model, a photographer, a muse. A while ago, she makes an effort to capture the everyday. The normal. The good, the bad, the ugly. Hanna takes photos and captures video of herself falling to pieces. She exposes herself and her sheer vulnerability and strength to the world. From Hanna, I learn that we must. I'm not sure if it is our responsibility or perhaps, our salvation, but we must. It is photography as honesty, photography as reflection, photography as enlightening.

I'm not a photographer and I don't like the word shutterbug. I have hundreds and hundreds of photos of the people in my life, of the moments in my life. The everyday, the special moments, the mundane, maybe even some tragic. I try to capture a lot of my life, as much as possible. I want to remember the things and the people that made a difference in my life, that made me feel something once. I want to see the slow, gradual progression of my life. I want to have something to show for the years I've lived, the things I've done. I want to capture the moments that made the people around me happy or sad, or something.

I'm not a photographer. I wouldn't even consider photography a particularly great passion. I like moments. I like feelings. Photography, for me, is only a vehicle. It is the tangible of memory and feeling. My life's timeline printed and painted for all to see. These are some of my favourite moments from the end of 2016 on my latest roll of 35mm film.

Pictured above: Harlie, Lucia, Holly, Ishmael, Devonte, Eden, Tara, Luisa, Cody, Nathan, Adam and myself. 

By Lucia Berlin

From A Manuel For Cleaning Women, p. 260:

Actually, love is not a mystery for me anymore. Max calls and says hello. I tell him that my sister will be dead soon. How are you? he asks. 

Seeking Comfort for Hopelessness

What do you do?

Sleep, crying and crying until I fall asleep, something sweet - not a lot but a favourite candy or two, watching my favourite TV series that I've seen dozens of times over. Hot shower, hot tea. Calling my mom or my best friend just to listen to them talk about random things. Drawing or anything that makes you really really focus. I also like just being around friends and listening to them talk. I don't participate much in the conversation but sitting there and listening to the voices and their stories make me feel much less alone. It's distracting and calming. Comfort for me, tends to be warm and with people who can provide distractions. But at the same time, there are times when I think wallowing can feel really good and therapeutic. Take it easy on yourself. Ultimately, be kind to yourself.

On 35mm Film

Here are some of my memories photographed: 

This year has been a strange one. It was rediscovering routine. It was trying to find a place for myself when I never felt like I belonged anywhere. It was trying to place myself in the present moment, to ground myself where I otherwise might drift away. I think it was trying to reaffirm myself in the world. That can be a strange process.

This year had some bad. It had a lot of good. Most of the good was in the people I met and developed better bonds with. It was a lot of trying to better integrate people I really liked in my life. I enjoyed that a lot about this past year. I did some good for myself this year. I kept up with a practice that makes my body feel good, and helps my mind learn perspective. I think this year was a helpful year. It helped to create and solidify a lot of the basics that I had forgotten, that I had lost. It was a time to readjust my body and my perspective.

I wonder what this year will bring. 2017. My twenty-third turn around the Sun, twenty-three years of this Earth and its people. I wonder what kind of memories will define this coming year. To continue to be kind, to continue to learn patience. All of that.