Something
didn’t feel quite right about yesterday’s blog posting. I couldn’t shake the sense
that I had missed a really important point, a point that would explain the feeling
that this marvellous old church in Kingston had summonsed me – twice within
forty-eight hours – but for what?
In the
midst of last evening’s feral rain storm, the penny dropped with dramatic
clarity: I had been summonsed to be a witness. Likewise, my camera. Together,
we had been charged with helping to tell the story of the Church of the Good
Thief.
I don’t
understand how this act of witness will play itself out, but I do know, with
absolute clarity, that I had to be inside that church on Saturday morning and
outside that church on Monday at dawn.
One thing
this experience does clarify for me is why I have been so powerfully drawn to
photography in the last eighteen months. When I wrote in another blog posting
that my camera now feels like an extension of my soul, I was not being facile –
I really meant it. I am being drawn to photography as an act of witness.
Thank you
for reading my thoughts.
Until next
time,
L
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