Pigeons known as the Molokai Rainbows, Molokai, Hawaii.
Pigeons, known as the Molokai Rainbows, on the island of Molokai, Hawaii.
Pigeons, known as the Molokai Rainbows, fly on the island of Molokai, Hawaii. The pigeons are colored with food dye and are released at special events on the islands of Molokai and Maui. For more information email Clay.
Hear Rikki tell the true story of Bungalow Bill. Recorded on the front porch of the Hui Hoolana on April 14, 2009 and used with permission.
WHAT I LEARNED FROM FIVE YEARS IN MINI STORAGE
In 2002 I was a freshly minted graduate from Brooks Institute, and received the opportunity of a lifetime. The opportunity to move to a foreign country and teach photography at a newly opened photography college. And so I did the only logical thing one could do. I took all of my possessions, and in a feat of amazing, Herculean and smart packing crammed everything into a 6×10 storage unit. The thought was, that I would depart the country, teach for a year, and return a hero with tales of adventure and glory, and pick up my life where I left off. After the first year in India, I was enjoying myself immensely and re-upped for a second year. After my second year in India, I was presented with the opportunity to sail around the world – which I also took. After completing my circumnavigation of the globe in a ship, I returned to the east coast of the United States and began working on a photo project that would take another few months. Nearly three years to the day, I returned to Santa Barbara where all my earthly possessions lay and cracked open the time capusal of my prior life to extract my surfboards for a ocean surf session. With nowhere to move to, I eventually put the surfboards back and continued my travels, which led me north to a beautiful woman and more adventures around the globe. More than 5 years later, I was a bit wiser, a bit older and had found a place to have a mailing address other than my parents house. Recently, I returned to my mini storage unit to move this load of now distant and mysterious possessions from what was a different life to my new home.
It is hard to find words to explain this experience – but you can try to imagine with me. Try to imagine taking everything you own, everything in your house, sealing it up in a small room and going away for 5 years. After the first year you begin to forget what you own. After the second year, you begin to regret not selling your least used and most frivolous possessions before you left, and after the third year you begin to wonder why you kept any of it, after all you haven’t needed or used any of it in three years – how important can it possibly be? After the fourth year you regret not selling everything and after the fifth year you dread having to spend any money to move it to where you now live.
And so this is what I learned, or rather what I observed and felt during this moving experience. I insert the key into the now rusted mini storage lock. After jiggling the key for a few moments, the lock agrees and slowly gives way. I slide the door up into the ceiling of the storage unit (one of those rolling corrugated garage doors that you see businesses in bad parts of town roll down over their storefronts at night). And there before me is the dusty, time capusal of a life….
- All my clothes are out of style
- All my digital equipment is sadly outdated and humorously old looking
- All my film? What is film again?
- Great day – everything is dusty…
- Why on earth did I keep those magazines?
- Who on earth did I keep any of this stuff!
And so it went for the next few hours while I loaded up my truck to move north. So why do I bring up my experience of mini-storage in relation to a photography workshop on Molokai? What do dusty books and desert islands have to do with each other? I bring it up, because my impulse to save all my crap is not unlike our impulse to save our successes and failures, our triumphs and fears — photographically and in life. Our experiences make us who we are, yet they often put blinders on our vision preventing us from seeing the long view, the new, the intricate beauty that is before us every day. If nothing else, my hope for everyone here this week is that it gives us permission to take off the blinders and look at the long view, forget about all your stuff and live in the moment. I know it does for me.
3 Comments
Just discovered your site and enjoying the ride. I totally understand your storage post. I put my junk in storage and took off overseas for 12 years. When I finally opened up my container, like an explorer entering an ancient crypt, my suitcase full of 8 years of travel photography was destroyed; the relentless heat of 12 Australian summers and the cool winters had fused all my negatives together. I had the thow the lot away and apart from a selection of prints that my mother passed on to me, all I have left is my memories…
Now every image is archived on disk!
Cheers,
Pete
Peter – Sorry to hear that. That must have been quite an exercise in letting go. I like the ‘explorer entering an ancient crypt’ line. How true.
Best – Jonathan
My husband and I were married for two years when I finally made a decision to completely move across “the pond”. Following airline rules, I was able to bring two suitcases: some clothes, books, slides, and notes. Back then, when I was packing, I didn’t know how I could exist without the rest.
Four years later I went back to only pick up my personal library (I wished I could bring my old true friends – “my camp”). I realized that sentimental attachments to things & still objects have changed, my focus was on different goals and priorities.
Although, I found the experience quite new – in a sense it was a study of looking into myself from long geographical and cultural distance and time: a brief continuum when future registers the present together with the past.
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