Small Anchors

“I wrote lists of possibilities, adding, subtracting, and relocating masterpieces like a mad clerk in a subterranean reading room… Lists. Small anchors in the swirl of transmitted waves, reverie, and saxophone solos. A laundry list of lists actually retrieved in the laundry.” — Patti Smith, M Train 2015

I don’t know a single woman that isn’t always working on a list. Recently, I’ve been working on a project about solitude and women. As I read, research, and shoot photos, I’m overwhelmed by my own emotions, capturing the emotions of my models, and juggling all of my lists, from my research to my groceries.

One day of shooting I was in a location with a close friend, waiting for just the right expression and moment. Just as I stopped talking and let her naturally adjust I caught it. Brief, silent contemplation. Not long after I worked with another close friend and noticed the same pattern. There was obviously a natural comfort between me and the models, both childhood friends, but after making sure they were comfortable and taking a few shots I knew were acceptable, but not at all as striking as I hoped for my final shots, a quiet but emotional presence emerged.

The moment when their eyes slid down and to the side. The moment when I saw their focus leave me with the camera pointed at them. The moment when they escaped back into their own world despite being out in our world.

Knowing these women and myself I know one major similarity between our three distinct personalities: lists. Lists of work to do, dinners to make, house renovations, every list under the sun. This odd mental tick brought us together and in these moments of silence they separated us. One quick second and I saw my model slip back into her slow, methodical categorization. I saw her slip away from the world and look out at it, organizing her sight.

There is something soothing and immersive about lists… their never-ending nature, the lists of lists. In this time of intense and prolonged solitude they keep me sane.