First up. Hello. For those new here, a huge welcome. I launched The Wild Edge less than two weeks ago, and already there has been such a lovely, warm and enthusiastic welcome. We are now 526 people on the free membership, and a fabulous group are also joining the paid membership, to access salons, writing sanctuaries and more creative resources. I am very excited about how this all might grow, and so many ideas evolving for 2025. Thank you for helping to get this little venture off to flying start. It’s so much appreciated. And if you’d like to say hello, please leave a comment here, on a welcome post. That would be so lovely, and we’ll slowly build the conversation and get to know each other better.
Today, I am bringing you my 5 minute creative retreat, and next week, aligning with the Winter Solstices, lots of creative tools, reflections and a special Winter Solstice guide and salon, before some quite winter days.
Hope you enjoy.
Onwards, inwards, outwards
Clare. x
The Imaginary Camera (or the anti-photo)
Last week’s five minute creative retreat was all about noticing; capturing a daily record through a simple journaling habit called The Observances. This week, I’m encouraging you to bring that same noticing, outside. This is a wonderful practice to follow through the seasons, as a way of tracking changes and bringing awareness and our presence to the ground beneath our feet. All you need is yourself, and an imaginary camera! You may also want to have a pen and notebook at hand to jot down The Observances afterwards.
For many years I worked as a documentary photographer, photographing and writing about social change initiatives around the world. My camera has opened doorways and experiences I never thought possible, and importantly, taught me the power of waiting for the right time and image to gift themselves.
The camera is ubiquitous now, in our pockets, in our hands, and the image operates in the language of capture. We ‘take’ photos, ‘snap’ a pic, ‘shoot’ from the hip and indeed, ‘capture’ a frame. It’s all very extractive and bordering on the violent. But what are we really taking in those moments? What are we actually receiving? And what gift might we be relinquishing?
The West coast of Ireland is a beautiful place with many visitors each year. As people come, I see it happening, and I have to hold myself back from tapping someone on the shoulder and asking them to slow down. People drive to a scenic spot, take the image, drive to the next spot, repeat. Sadly what they have in fact is a record of their not-looking, and not-seeing. Can anyone really experience the wonder and presence of a place in such a way? I think the whole experience would be so much more valuable, to them, and to the land itself, if the camera was put away and instead they looked, really looked for what image they would take, should they really want to. I know this sounds like a bit of tough love, but it is based on love.
One of the things I learned as a documentary photographer was that the best images are a collaboration between time, light, presence and the very ephemeral aspect of grace. I also learned that to know a place takes an eternity at best, and the camera offers only a tiny doorway into a tiny moment of the life of that place. I have learned that my work is best when, arriving to new place, I make the point of not taking any photos for a few days, or at least not photos with my camera. Instead, I am trying to train my senses to orient to the particulars of that place- the light, sounds, rhythms, people, and as I observe, I notice what photos I would take. How would I frame this doorway? What angle would work here? I begin to notice faces, crooked smiles and wayward looks; the poise in the way a mother carriers her baby on her back; how that rickshaw driver places his hands on the wheel, then readjusts the cigarette behind his ear; the light snagging off the corrugated rooftops, then bounding down the street. In all this waiting, something beings to happen. The place opens to me, and I to it.
The role of the documentary maker is fraught with legacies of extractive practice; telling certain stories which were never the job of that particular storyteller, depicting stereotypes, or repeating the tropes of a culture and place. The simple act of waiting begins to shift this. What we come to in the pause is the more nuanced, specific story of that time and that place, and it is here where the collaboration can really commence.
Your creative ‘assignment’
So my five minute creative ‘assignment’ to you this week is to embody your own inner documentary photographer, on pause. Bring an imaginary camera. Sit on a bench or in a cafe, and simply for 5 minutes, notice. What image would you take? What is happening the light? What is happening at ground level, eye-level? What takes flight above you? Notice how this noticing changes your relationship to the place.
After the experience, you may like to write down a few ‘observances’, weaving in last week’s practice. And when you’re done, I’d love to know how you got on. You can leave a note in the comments.
Next week, I will be bringing you another 5 minute creative retreat, this time with a focus on the role of the dark and the unknown in our creative cycles.
Thank you,
Clare. X
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Special Winter Solstice Salon- Dec 20th/ Plus Launch Gift
I am hosting a special winter solstice Salon on December 20th. As a launch gift for The Wild Edge, I am offering a free ticket (valued at €30) to anyone who opts for annual membership by December 19th. Tickets for all 8 annual seasonal salons are included in Gold Membership.
7-9pm Irish/UK Time (please check your time zone)
Or you can purchase a one off tickets directly.
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Coming up next week, I will also be sharing a Winter Solstice Guide with creative practices, writing prompts and a seasonal ritual, included in all paid memberships. Heading out to inboxes on Monday 16th December.
Thank you for being here.
Clare. x
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