'Ma' and Being Real
The Simple Images of a Movie Studio and a Phone App
There exists in me a bank of memories, hard to open but easy to dig through – when I can find the key. They are tied to places and times and things, as all memories are, but this special vault is mostly tied to sound, and color, and temperature, and light. Uneventful moments that contain an oxymoronic value in their depth of simplicity. The creeping, crawling darkness and the comforting, compressing weight of the humid air when a thunderstorm stretched over my childhood home; the carving sounds and sticky sharp scratches of corn stalk leaves bending around my body as I stumble through the field; the plush, soft warmth of a carpet on my feet after a barefoot afternoon on the hot, dense, tarred streets of my neighborhood. Snapshots of times long ago, before the pool of distractions that modern life requires got too deep, snapshots that serve as escapism and reminders of what else can be seen and heard and felt.
This bank can be unlocked if I catch the right breeze in the spring, or the right angle of sunshine in the summer, or a certain rough surface on a barefoot skip outside to grab something from the car. It can also be drawn out of me through recreation or representation in art. The particular artist that I draw from and escape to for this form of representation and exposure is Hayao Miyazaki.
There is a Japanese concept of negative space called ‘ma’, one that Miyazaki frequently employs in his work. Moments of the story that don’t aim to advance the plot or develop a character, but to ground you in a space, a place, a time. Days of work from dozens of creatives all in an effort to make, not nothing, but the something between the somethings of the story. Some of the best artists in the world cramping their hands and burning their candles to let you hear the rain on the stones of the forest path, to see the gusts of the valley’s winds, or to rest your eyes on a palette of earth tones. Spaces that let you stew on an idea, or escape from it entirely.
For a better sense of the details of the work, watch this lovely and lovingly made video:
It’s the little moments, the ma, that move me most, and bring back memories of similar spaces between events, the fabric of life that doesn’t implant itself quite as obviously in our brains.
There is a new space in my world that I’ve been allowed to reconnect with small moments, and to do so with my friends and peers. It’s a social media app, which are spaces that I have an ever evolving and complicated relationship with. It is a weekly occurrence for me to spiral into confusion just trying to pick what I could, or should, share on Instagram. There are so many apps with so many purposes, it's easy to ignore or forget or half-heartedly participate in.
The app is called BeReal. It's a photo sharing app that will, once a day, prompt you to take both a photo of what you’re looking at or doing, or the environment you’re in, and one photo of yourself. To encourage and demand self-participation, you cannot view anyone else’s photos unless you submit one yourself. And that’s it. Simply designed, a simple requirement, and an open invitation to post pictures of your being and yourself. Within this requirement, and this invitation, lies interpretation and storytelling methods and a willingness to share. You are welcome to delay your photography session to any point in the day, when you’ve had a chance to gather yourself or find a better light source or start a more interesting, less embarrassing activity to capture. All of these apps are outlets for personal branding, for control of others’ perspectives of us, and for creativity and sharing. But there are other apps better suited to that curating pursuit. The best part of being real is when my friends show me what is real to them, right then, at the moment their phones ping them.
Something I’ve missed with the advent of electronic communication and the onset of a global pandemic is the negative space of my friends’ lives. The occasion for getting together has never had to meet a higher standard than it has since we all became possible vectors of a deadly virus. Our physical social lives have become curated by necessity, taking away not just the number of visits we have, but the number of people we visit with. But now, on this silly application, I’ve been privy to things I haven’t been privy to for a long time: each corner of my friends’ work-from-home offices; different plates and mugs hosting different scraps of pantry goods that keep us going between the social dinners or dates; peeks at friends’ kitchens when it’s raining, or their neighborhood when it’s sunny; pets and family members and other friends and strangers populating the dense lives of others when they don’t involve me. The somethings that bridge the gaps between the somethings we have together. The fabric of others’ lives, the textures of their days. It’s these little moments that move me most.
It is bewildering to me how much I’ve been thinking about BeReal, and its place in the current version of myself. It makes me grateful that I decided to launch this project, to explore my own ideas, and that you decided to read it. Thank you for that.
When I created this outlet, it seemed as if I could expand on all of the ideas I stumble onto, and cater to them for longer, and nourish them better. It has felt healthy and rewarding, and I hope you have a creative outlet. If you don’t, I hope you jump into that one you’ve been thinking about.
As always, share something new to you recently. I’ve heard about a lot of great new year cooking adventures, and some new movies added to streaming services. I’ll see you on Friday with a couple of mine.
TTFN,
B