Sunday, October 31, 2010
The photograph,one of my favorites, was taken at St. Ives,Cornwall, a Sunday morning in 1962. The other innocents were the parents, the pianist and me. Little children,taken by the hand and transported, not necessarily where they want to go. The photo depicts for me, the vulnerability, the aloneness, the immensity of distance, the clinging to the companionship of the known, the longing for something inexpressible. Almost 50 years later it still evokes strong feelings for me of a time when we all struggled to retain our center! They are looking out onto the Bristol Channel to the west, as it widens into the Atlantic. The same route taken by many to the new world, and first by the explorer-navigator John Cabot in 1497 for Henry V11. We had taken the weekend off but had driven too far to get back to Plymouth that day so had to stay in St. Ives overnight. Our car was the warmest enclosure we had so we often went driving in the winter, escaping the cold council house we lived in. Money was tight but we found a bed and breakfast in St. Ives to tide us over. I remember the weekend as if it was yesterday and it was a cherished family time. None the less, as I look at the picture now, and think of the feelings I ascribe to the children, they are really my feelings. I have a marvelous ability to project! Those feelings were there then, but I operate by denial, and certainly did in spades at 28 years of age. Home for them was where ever the pianist and I were. Home for us was out there, somewhere, in that direction!