I'd never really given much thought to what happened inside my camera when I would take a photo. I never really spent that much time thinking about the space within the camera, out of a preoccupation to the space that I was in, myself. The space I was trying to capture.
Maybe I started thinking of it more after seeing Zumiriki by Oskar Alegria in September. And maybe that curiosity continued to grow in the months since, as I took apart my grandfather's old cameras, peering into their insides.
Since then I have started thinking about that space inside. That space and that fleeting moment when light is let in.
A moment that I initiate and that is determined by the settings of aperture and shutter speed of my choice.
An interstice, created.
Lately, when I speak to anyone, I can feel myself reaching and searching for words in my head. Nouns seems particularly prone to wanting to come out in the wrong language. I have been wondering whether that is maybe happening because I am by myself a lot these days.
I spend a lot of my time inside my own head, and there is no reason to translate anything in there. I can start a thought in German and end it in English, switching halfway through, because 'aperture' was so much louder and bigger than its German counterpart 'Blende'.
There is a difference, in the way I use language, depending on whether I use it to think, or to communicate bits of thought,
already thought through.
I have always known that I needed to be alone to really think, to make creative and conceptual decisions. A reason for why I used to seek out the studio late at night. Now I wonder if this need for silence, comes from the ways I can think when its just me there.
When I have the space to think without the constraints of one language,
time to spend in the inbetween,
to think in ambivalence,
outside of the structure of only one.
To think for myself,
in my own langauge,
in the language that feels most natural.