I’ve recently started to entertain quite a frightening thought. What if…What if…I did something really crazy. Planned an event or series of events so far out of my comfort zone that my immediate reaction, when I think of it, is ‘Oh, God, I mean, oh, could I really do that?’
What if this event was planned to take place two years from now? An event, exhibition (more specifically, because, well, that’s what it would be) that would take me on a journey that began in the Middle of England, took me across the ocean, to the middle of American then back to England again. This wouldn’t be a random journey. But something quite specifict, which was set in stone over 100 years ago.
And what would be the point, the reason, the plan behind this terrific journey?
I’ve got it all here. In my head. On paper. In my journal. Only a few select people have been told of my grand idea. To some, it may not seem so big. But to me it is monumental.
And I keep asking myself ‘Would anyone actually care to experience this?’ After all, it is very much focused on most things me. However, again and again, whenever I question myself, I feel a certainty that this must be carried out. It is not good enough to plan and to only experience it in my imagination. My notebooks have begun to be filled with the images I want to fully commit to larger pieces.
Therefore, with great resolve, I have already begun this journey just by talking about it. I have commited it to paper. I have whispered it into the ether and now it must become something tangible and as alive as I am.