“….From Gainesville a road runs straight and quiet, southwest towards the Gulf of Mexico. At the end, it opens upon a wide, shining marsh and mud flats. Beyond four bridges the tin roofs of the hamlet of Cedar Key gleam in the sun. Cedar Key has the look of having endured, at peace with waves and sky; a place that does not mind a little sand in its shoes, or the paint flecking off, because that means one more season survived.
Some of its weathered buildings are boarded up, but the 115-year old Island Hotel still offers the shade of its balcony and its unique hospitality to the passing stranger.
When I entered, a woman named Maggie was curled up on the sofa in the lobby. When I told her that I was a wandering journalist, she said, “Please go away. Do not write about Cedar Key.
I am sorry Maggie, but here goes….”
page 619 – vol.144 No 5
Andrew Molitor over at http://photothunk.blogspot.com/ usually posts thought-provoking pieces about the whole concept of photography. Recently he upended my editing and sequencing concept about the photo book that I am working on by posting two essays.
The first essay is titled Storytelling into Memory, from which I copied the below paragraph. He implies, tongue in cheek, that he is able to write these insightful essays because he, and one of his sources, are ‘intelligent, erudite, and devilishly handsome.’ Since I am none of these, you will have to root around in Andrew’s posts to see if you find them of interest and useful in helping you look at your own work.
‘When I think of some memory-worthy thing, let us say a job, it manifests as a singular thing, I don’t visualize it particularly, but we might imagine it as a box. A box labeled, notionally, as “My Job at X.” If I touch the box, shards arise. A person, an event, a project, an office building. Each of these shards is atemporal. I do not perceive them as a passage of time, but again as a singular object, a box if you will. Touching any one of them causes another cloud of shards of memory to arise. Nothing in here resembles, even slightly, a film strip.”
The current one, titled The Opposing Commentator further helps me clarify the purpose and meaning of my own work.
“The point here, if there is one, is something like this: Art is not merely the thing itself. It is the thing and its interconnections to the world in which it finds itself. Art is a cultural construct, and as such, gathers much of its meaning from the culture in which it exists. Art, also, is a part of the culture. As such, it carries its own meaning to the culture in which it exists.”