We have been on this trip for a month, and I have been reduced to the level of a preschooler. I now leave the house without a phone, wallet or keys, nor enough money to make any sizeable dent into our daily budget. Various losses have proven that I cannot be trusted with anything important; at least, nothing material. Losing three socks in our last destination only indicates the problem as a whole.
Perhaps a better description for my condition would be as a boarding-schooler. I have no need, when I leave my room, to carry anything other than my tools. My daily curriculum is set, with very few electives (I sometimes get to choose what to eat). Life no longer offers me the luxury of a spontaneous purchase or friendly call—I am too busy for both. If I have a camera and a computer, I am complete.
This journey has been a little overwhelming to say the least. It’s taking more each week to stay on top of our mission, physically and mentally. Waking is tough, getting up is a force of will, and from then on we’re essentially playing catch up. Our only breaks are forced or necessary; power naps, commutes, meals, or when our computer batteries run out.
Don’t read this as negative; it’s far better to be overwhelmed than underwhelmed. And the whole point of this trip has been to learn. Externally, we’re trying to discover how street art changes a community, what compromises it takes to follow a passion, and the risks involved in leaving the traditional lifestyle behind. But we’re also mirroring the lives of our subjects—we three writers have plunged ourselves into this project, with no assurances and no backup plan. Should we succeed, it will come out in the final grade.
Continuing the metaphor, our teacher—lets call him FCP—is harsh but fair, a stickler for details, uncompromising in his edits, and hugely rewarding if we’ve done it right. When we bring our footage to him at the end of the day, he is quick to criticise our shots: too shaky, too bright, too dark, too short, too boring, badly framed, lacking continuity, choppy, commonplace, incomplete. Again and again our work is deleted because of these words, or held onto out of desperation.
But when FCP is happy with us, the rewards are transcendental. All the hardships we’ve endured to get to that point are disappeared, our compromises seem trivial, our failings transient, our negatives negated. Life is good. There is hope.
Each day is its own battle, yes, but each brings with it a severe and obligatory look at our failings, and the opportunity to make things better! Every mistake we have made is there for us to see, for the image never lies. When else in life is one afforded so transparent a look at how one can improve?
– Nick
