What travel is isn’t what you expect

I met Matt Austin, a talented young documentary-art photographer, this October at the Flash Forward Festival in Toronto. Shortly after, we struck up an email conversation, largely in response to my posts about traveling this summer, which I was flattered to find had resonated with Matt’s own recent travels.

Below are excerpts from our discussion, as well as a series of Matt’s travel images. He will be debuting a book of new work from this trip during his solo show at Johalla Projects in Chicago on March 4. You can see photos from my travels here.

Matt and I would love to know if any of this resonates with you and what you have or haven’t learned from being on the road.


Matt

I decided last July that I was going to go on a long trip by myself around the country, leaving straight from an artist residency. I wasn’t content with things in Chicago and wanted to practice the concept of self-respect, acting on the idea that I deserve to do what I want to do with my life.

I was pretty interested in the idea of scaring the shit out of myself as a means of learning. So I decided to camp alone in a tent most of the way, though I’d never camped before. I also decided to act on my whims, buying a guitar from a pawn shop in St. Paul, MN, though never considering myself a musician. And, too, shaved my head with a beard trimmer in a hotel bathroom. Consciously taking action without any commentary is a powerful thing.

MIKI

I love the idea of learning by “scaring the shit” out of yourself. I wonder if your idea of “scary” changed during your trip. Did you initially think you’d do things that were literally scary (like bungee jumping) but ended up doing things that made you feel kind of vulnerable (like learning guitar)? I ask because one of the scariest things I did during my travels was to take my photography more seriously, and putting that up for the world to see was terrifying at times.

MATT

I think the concept of fear originated in the idea of being unfamiliar with most of the situations I was in and having no one but myself to rely on; but you’re absolutely right about that shifting. Before leaving, when I would consider what may scare me about camping or driving long distances in my unreliable car, I was mainly thinking about bears and storms and car accidents. But when I was actually in those situations, it tended to be unpredictable people that scared me the most.

Purchasing the guitar mainly came from dealing with how lonely the trip could get. I started my trip by leaving from the ACRE artist residency, an amazing intellectual community, so it didn’t take long for me to feel lonely by comparison. I’ve also never been interested in the typical tourist experience, so I thought giving myself certain tasks like buying a guitar would allow me to ask locals about where to do that and come up with an unpredictable sequence of interactions. What were some of your methods of dealing with the loneliness of solitary travels? Or did you not find yourself experiencing that kind of loneliness?

MIKI

It’s interesting that you ask about loneliness, because the fact is I spent very little time alone during my travels. I admire you for pushing yourself to do so many things you weren’t already comfortable or familiar with. Some part of me thought that’s what my “sabbatical” would be like, but as usual my planning/connecting/organizing gene took over and I ended up, as my dad said recently, “the busiest unemployed person” he knows.

I’m glad you brought this up because I haven’t really examined why my trip ended up that way. The easy answer is that, once you suddenly have a large chunk of unstructured time, it seems like everyone has somewhere you absolutely have to stop by. The most obvious answer to me is that I am just one of those people; seeing friends and family face-to-face is something I crave and thrive on, so given lots of free time, that’s automatically where I put my effort.

But I have to admit that it was also the easier thing for me to do, the less scary thing. I am a chronic over-planner, so even waiting until I was in Istanbul to buy my ticket to Berlin was flying by the seat of my pants. I guess maybe this trip was only a first step toward being more comfortable on my own without a road map.

As for things that I did learn (or was reminded) … First off, I’m a pretty good traveler. I know how to pack light, I’m organized, and I’m comfortable on all kinds of public transportation — even if I have to look like a stupid American and ask someone four times in English how to get somewhere.

Second, I LIKE HAVING A HOME. I knew this going in, so this trip was kind of a test. Not only was I leaving a job, but also an apartment and city behind. I slept on couches and in spare rooms or tents for four months straight — and it got really, really old. The idea of being on the road for months has a romantic appeal, but I realized that I enjoy travel more when I have a stable headquarters to strike out from. Does that make sense to you? Did you have trouble letting go of a “plan” and just wandering?

The most important thing I learned was: There is no substitute for seeing people in their natural environment. This was driven home most poignantly by my good friend in Berlin, who went to a relatively remote college (that I never visited) and has lived abroad for the last six years. I literally hadn’t seen her for more than a day or two at a time, not over a holiday, in eight years. Seeing a friend for 10 days straight, living their own life instead of stressed out by travel, holidays, and family, and especially seeing them in the midst of the city and friends they feel best fit them: It’s like getting to know them all over again.

MATT

It’s interesting how our approaches to travel are almost completely opposite, yet result in the similar opinion of “I am a pretty good traveler.” You could say that I’m a chronic under-planner or maybe even addicted to the concept of being “unprepared.” I used to print out directions places, but I consciously decided to stop four years ago. I prefer to get directions from local waiters or gas station cashiers. I will never use a GPS, not for experiences like this; you can hold me to that.

As far as dedication to a home, I’m not sure I have much. Over time, I have learned to love Chicago’s centralized location, which provides a good driving position to anywhere in the country. But I’m not so attached to the concept of a permanent home. When I am home, I sleep on a futon mattress on my bedroom floor that was donated to me by a friend. I had a few blankets on the floor before that. I made a dresser in my closet that is actually just a suitcase I drilled to the wall. Unscrewing those screws would be the most work I’d have to do if I decided to move, and I kind of like that. To answer your question more clearly: Letting go of any kind of plan is one of my favorite things to do.

Your writing on your blog about the difficulties of producing something while on the road really stuck with me. For example: “[T]he whole point of this traveling thing was to help me see a bunch of people and get inspired and figure out what makes me really happy and write about it all. But here’s the thing I’ve realized over the last few weeks: Having no home and no routine actually makes it damn hard to do something like writing that requires concerted creative effort. Well, shit.”

I couldn’t agree with this more! I tried writing every day of my trip and I think I lost my consistency around day 12 or 13 in Seattle. First, there was the guilt that came with not completing my goal. But then when I would find time to write again, it felt weird. I felt like I was sacrificing having new and natural experiences to pause and write about ones that had already happened.

Maybe I’m wrong, but I feel like I have a similar outlook to yours in terms of how I would like to affect people: by using myself as an example to pursue what you enjoy doing, even if it’s scary and not going to be easy. I think the candor of your blog really illuminates the growth that comes from creative vulnerability. “This doesn’t have to be one of those blogs where I have all the answers. In fact, it can’t be. I’m not an expert here. I’ve never done this before. But hopefully through my experience people can learn a little about their own,” you wrote.

I find myself expressing similar values in my artwork and in my teaching. I often remind my students of two things in our lives that will never end, ever: 1) I don’t know, and 2) I’m still learning.

Where have I been – Part 2: Road trip!

For the past four months I’ve been traveling around the U.S. and a bit in Europe — almost non-stop. In April I quit my job and June 1 I traded my awesome San Francisco apartment for a borrowed car and couches around the world. This post and the previous one chronicle my adventures.

Montreal, Quebec: July 22-24

A friend-of-a-friend kindly put Peter and I up for two nights and we spent a day walking around the old city, which is particularly interesting in contrast to the huge abandoned industrial silos along the waterfront. Hands down our favorite discovery was the Habitat 67 building (above) built for the 1967 World’s Fair, which was originally a model of affordable urban housing, but of course is an elite gated community now.

Niagara Falls: July 25

I’d been to the falls when I was young, so I knew what a sprawling tourist trap it is. Peter, however, expecting simply the falls and some walkways, was aghast to discover a “Las Vegas on a cliff” instead. We left after an hour or so, but got some good photos in the meantime.

Detroit, MI: July 26-29

After a quick tour through Flint to see the Dort Mall and hit an amazing Salvation Army store, we landed in Detroit, which I’ve been interested in visiting for a while. Most people look at me funny when I say that. They usually have only heard about the violence and depopulation, but Detroit is a beautiful city with a strong personality, a vibrant art scene (much like Berlin), and cutting-edge innovation (such as its urban farms, pictured above). We stayed with my friend Kim Storeygard, who designed the entertainment mag I edited in college and is now a designer for the Detroit News, and hung out one day with photographer/videographer/organizer extraordinaire Stephen McGee.

Chicago, IL: July 30-August 1

Photo by Peter McCollough.

Peter got some great shots of the water sculpture in Millennium Park and the film set of Transformers 3 (above), while I mostly caught up friends from college (I went to Northwestern in Evanston, just north of Chicago) and indulged in some seriously deep-dish pizza.

Madison, WI: August 2-4

Still from our video at Devil's Lake. Courtesy Peter McCollough.

Stopped by Devil’s Lake and tried out my new (waterproof) Kodak PlaySport, had dinner with Andy Adams and his wife, and watched my friend Molly (who I’ve known since kindergarten) pack up her apartment for a move to Bloomington, IN.

Minneapolis, MN: August 5-10

Photo by Peter McCollough.

We stayed at Tim Gruber and Jenn Ackerman’s lovely house in Minneapolis, while they were in Las Vegas documenting the Miss Universe pageant. We were sad to miss them, but having a place to ourselves after couch surfing for weeks was a welcome respite. Peter made several photo pilgrimages to The Mall of America and I met up with Clark Patrick for stops by Shelter Studios, Flashlight Photo Rental, and the beautiful botanical gardens. I have to admit, though, that the true highlight of our week in Minneapolis was seeing Top Gun in the theater at 10:30 am on a Sunday. “Danger Zone” has been stuck in my head ever since.

Badlands National Park, SD: August 11-12

Before I wanted to be a magazine editor, I dreamed of being a paleontologist. And not just like every little kid wants to be a paleontologist — like, had a complete set of archeology artifacts trading cards and several encyclopedias of dinosaurs and went on a dig in Arizona with my dad when I was 14. Anyway, seeing the Badlands has been a lifelong dream, and I spent much of the time telling Peter more than he ever wanted to know about paleosol, erosion, and prehistoric fossils. The area is also visually stunning, including the West’s characteristically low clouds, one of which I had a silent conversation with for 30 minutes. Then I took its picture (above).

Medicine Bow National Park, WY: August 13-14

On the way from the Badlands we stopped by an old nuclear missile launch facility and silo, where we were predictably looked up and down suspiciously when we said we were from San Francisco, and then talked down to throughout the tour because we weren’t even old enough to know what the Cold War was, were we? We also drove through the heart of the Sturgis Rally, the largest annual gathering of Harley Davidson enthusiasts, and drove past Mount Rushmore, which you can see from the road and is pretty underwhelming. After stopping in the smaller Medicine Bow park to the east (there are three), where beautiful red rock formations push out of the pines, we camped off-site high in the alpine mountains for two days. We found frost on the ground both mornings, but didn’t see another human being the whole time.

Salt Lake City, UT: August 15-16

The Mormon temple (above) is a beautiful building, although somewhat eclipsed by the modern skyscrapers around it that house the church headquarters. We wandered through the visitor’s center also, where tales from the Book of Mormon are represented by wax figures, well-produced video re-enactments, motion-triggered speakers, and devout teens around every corner to be sure you have all the information you need. I don’t subscribe to any religion, but I find them all fascinating cultural phenomena — the church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints maybe most of all, since it is a distinctly American religion and (thus not surprisingly) also the best marketed one. We had dinner that night at a vegan restaurant that represented the distant other end of the Salt Lake cultural spectrum, then drove out through the Salt Flats, with a stop by the Bonneville Speedway for a glimpse of  the Speed Week festivities.

San Francisco, CA: August 17-18

We drove all day across Nevada, stopping only in Imlay to see an eccentric old man’s tribute to American Indians constructed out of “white man’s” trash. After a couple nights at Peter’s mom’s house in Sacramento, we finally headed home. I almost started crying as I felt the cool breeze coming up the mountains to greet me.

Read about the beginning of my travels here!

Where in the world have I been?

For the past four months I’ve been traveling around the U.S. and a bit in Europe — almost non-stop. In April I quit my job and June 1 I traded my awesome San Francisco apartment for a borrowed car and couches around the world. This post and the next one chronicle my adventures.

I returned home to San Francisco a few weeks ago and have fallen in love with the city all over again. I’m still processing what exactly this time away has meant to me on a personal/professional level, but I think if I get a few of the basics down on (digital) paper, it will free up space in my brain for bigger questions.

New Orleans, LA: April 23-27

NOLA really is a magical place. It feels like another world — and century. I never saw it pre-Katrina, but aside from the Ninth Ward, which I saw during my day tour with Taylor Davidson, scars from the storm didn’t exactly jump out at me. I saw spraypaint marks on many houses, but they usually seemed to simply add another layer of patina to a city that has long been known for its beautiful dilapidation. I was specifically lured to NOLA to experience Jazz Fest and see Paul Simon (and Garfunkel) live for the first time. (Amazing.) Ultimately the festival was a little exhausting; I preferred listening to local bands at bars that felt like back yards, riding bikes through moss canopied streets, and eating steaming crayfish under paper lanterns and stars.

Death Valley, CA: May 13-16

Photo by Peter McCollough

A friend suggested I join him and a small group for an annual outing, this year to Death Valley. For me, being in nature is about removing myself from many things that bother me about “civilization”: too many people, constant noise, electronics addictions. I was reminded by this trip that not everyone sees it that way. After driving 10 hours overnight, getting lost for three hours on an ATV trail, getting smirked at by a local gas station owner for driving into Death Valley with only one spare tire and no radio, then being misled by numerous purposefully misleading markers, we finally arrived at our mid-desert warm springs rendezvous point — where we found 40 other people, playing house music and getting intoxicated under Christmas-light strung palm trees. Don’t get me wrong, the scenery is stunning, but I don’t understand the point of going someplace so remote and unwelcoming just to do the same thing you could do in the city any Saturday night. After several hours of slow caravaning and numerous blown tires the next day, the group stopped in Big Pine — and Peter and I bailed out to stay in a motel. After dinner at a diner we walked about three blocks off the main street and found ourselves in a beautiful, silent, dusky mountain pass. Finally, nature the way I wanted it.

Seattle, WA: May 25-31

I hadn’t been to Seattle since I was very young, but I remembered loving it. I was there primarily for an annual Memorial Day Weekend reunion with my friends from college. We pick a different place every year and we ended up in a beautiful cabin near Mt. Rainier for 2010. I was surprised by just how lush and green Seattle is, with lots of stunning views from almost as many hills as San Francisco. I also stayed a few extra days with a friend who lives in an inspiring co-op house that shares/reuses almost everything and is populated by artists and bakers and musicians. Trip Highlight: visited the aquarium and embarrassed my friends by sitting on the floor with the kids to watch the giant octopus feeding from up close.

Athens, OH: June 3-7

A very old photo of me and my parents on their 100-acre farm in Ohio. When I think about home, this is what I see.

I was home briefly seeing my family and picking up my grandfather’s old car, which my parents kindly donated for my travels. Not too many epiphanies here, I just have to give props to the town, which I still may move back to some day; Ohio University’s photojournalism program, which I dream about teaching for some day; and my parents, who made this trip possible through their selfless, constant support.

Charlottesville, VA: June 8-14

The beautiful meeting LOOKbetween tent and barn. Photo by Brendan Hoffman.

I feel so lucky to have been able to help Andrew Owen and Jenna Pirog plan LOOKbetween. During the off-year for LOOK3 Festival of the Photograph, they decided to organize a weekend event that deconstructed the usual hierarchies of photo festivals and focused instead on emerging photographers. I’ve been thinking a lot about how we can reconceive the usual photo fest structure to make it more helpful and dynamic, so I was excited to try out a few things during the Saturday discussion sessions. Our invited guests included 90 top emerging photographers plus dozens of top editors, curators, and thought leaders. All discussions took place outside at the beautiful farm where the event was held (and most guests camped). Most importantly, there were no “experts,” no “panelists,” no “moderators.” We divided people into 8 groups, gave them very general topics, and asked them to talk amongst themselves for 90 minutes. Then we brought everyone together again and recapped each topic for 20 minutes, asking only the emerging photographers to speak. I can think of lots of ways to make it better in the future, but as an experiment, I was really happy with the results. Everyone, even the “masters,” learned a lot and many people said it was the best discussion they’d heard at a photo event 🙂

NYC: June 15-18

It’s always great to be back in the city where I lived for three years and still have many friends. I have to say, though, that summer in NYC is a special kind of hell sometimes — like any time you have to wait on a subway platform.

Istanbul, Turkey: June 19-26

My first trip to Istanbul and the furthest east I’ve traveled. I was in Istanbul for the week-long Foundry Photojournalism Workshop, helping document the event and hanging out with an amazing group of renowned photojournalists. The historical parts of the city are really beautiful and there’s a vibrancy that makes for great street photography, but being stared at constantly and the wide cultural lines drawn between men and women eventually began to wear on me.

Berlin, Germany: June 27-July 6

One of my best friends from high school has lived outside the U.S. for years, and I’m glad I finally caught up with her in Berlin. It’s a true bohemian city, cheap enough that you can get by working 20 hours a week with plenty of time left over to develop your art/music/poetry — like NYC in the 70s, but way safer. If I had to leave SF tomorrow, I’d go to Berlin…but really the best part of being there was seeing my friend in her natural habitat, not for a few hours one night of the year when we’re both distracted by family/holiday stress.

London, England: July 7-10

Pondering the future of photojournalism over pints at the Frontline Club. From left: Paul Lowe, Edmund Clark, Simon Roberts, Patrick Smith, Adam Westbrook, Will Widmer.

I’ve been to London before so this trip included no sightseeing — instead, I finally met in person with several people I have known for years online: Adam Westbrook, Paul Lowe, Jonathan Worth, and Simon Roberts (who I’d actually met, but many years ago). Several of us got together at the Frontline Club one night, which, packed with memorabilia from former Frontline correspondents, was the best kind of sightseeing a journalism geek like me could do.

Portland, ME: July 14-21

Photo by Peter McCollough.

After meeting up in NYC, Peter and I drove to Portland and took a ferry over to Peaks Island, where my family has an old, uninsulated, telephone-free cottage, which I’ve been visiting every summer since I was born. It was a much-needed week of rest: bike riding, sea-glass gathering, rock sitting, and raiding the local library book sale for lots of great collage materials.

Read about the rest of my road trip here!

I need your help. Yes you. Seriously.

See? This is a photo I took almost A MONTH AGO in Death Valley and have been meaning to put up as part of a series of photos I've made -- and still haven't.

Some of you have probably noticed that my blog has gone a little quiet lately. I could blame it on being busy: I spent the last few weeks putting my life in storage, leaving my first and only San Francisco apartment, hanging in Seattle for a week with 13 of my best friends from college, and then flying home to Ohio to pick up a car and start my life on the road. But that’s kind of a cop out.

It’s a cop out because the whole point of this traveling thing was to help me see a bunch of people and get inspired and figure out what makes me really happy and write about it all. But here’s the thing I’ve realized over the last few weeks: Having no home and no routine actually makes it damn hard to do something like writing that requires concerted creative effort. Well, shit.

Then, lying in bed this morning I remembered a little epiphany about this blog that I had months ago when I was just laying it out in my head. This doesn’t have to be one of those blogs where I have all the answers. In fact, it can’t be. I’m not an expert here. I’ve never done this before. But hopefully through my experience people can learn a little about their own.

But if I don’t have the answers, where does the insight come from? (OK, so hopefully I have a few insights of my own, but you know what I mean.) Yep. From you.

I’ve seen the stats on this blog, it’s not like there’s a million people out there 😉 This is mostly friends, family, colleagues, people I’ve met in my travels, and a few awesome people who apparently pay attention to what I do although I’ve not had the pleasure of meeting them yet. But that small group of people (again, this means you) is packed with brilliant, talented, insightful people — many of whom have tons of experience in this whole traveling-while-working-and-being-creative-thing.

So here’s my central dilemma. If you have any advice PLEASE LEAVE IT IN THE COMMENTS. (And then you’ll be helping other people, too, not just me 🙂

I’m a fairly adept traveler, but this is the longest I’ve ever done it, and it takes up most of my energy just to find where I’m going, get settled, figure out what I should be doing, contact people, find an outlet for my charger, find food that doesn’t put me in a coma, figure out a new shower, find a towel…you get the idea.

After all that, there’s not a ton of energy left for writing. I’m actually a pretty slow writer (great trait for a blogger to have, I know), plus I have this new deal with myself that I’ll only write things that I feel like I simply HAVE to write. Things that give me butterflies. Things that keep me awake at night. Sometimes getting to those things actually feels harder when I’m on the move. Like there is so much stimulus coming in that I can’t process it enough to record it.

So, if you have any tips or suggestions, I’d love to hear them. Do I need to force myself to write every day, even if I don’t publish it? Do I need to write shorter things more often? Do I need to just lower my damn expectations? Or should I just expect this will all get easier as I get used to it and try not to stress so much? Help me out. I know you’re out there.

Collaborate Creatively ::with:: Taylor Davidson

Blogger and photographer Taylor Davidson at Cafe du Monde in New Orleans.

Blogger and photographer Taylor Davidson at Cafe du Monde in New Orleans.

I spent a long weekend in New Orleans, Louisiana, a few weeks ago for Jazz Fest and to explore the city — my first time for both. Below is a short, rough, “fast and dirty” slideshow I put together with Mr. Taylor Davidson (left) one afternoon, me recording audio clips while he took photos.

As I’ve been thinking about the next few months, when I’ll be traveling full-time, I knew that I would want to connect with photographers and other creatives in the cities I visited and do quick collaborative projects. This helps me explore several things I’m interested in during this little sabbatical I’m on: How photographers are doing their work, how I personally work creatively, and how the collaborative process can be made more efficient and satisfying.

Taylor Davidson was an obvious choice for my first experiment. He recently moved to NOLA, so he knows enough to be my tour guide, but hasn’t lost that sense of wonder with everything the city has to offer. We had met a few times before and I always found him enthusiastic, tuned in, and whip smart. Plus, as someone who is exploring photography but has a background in business and is a talented blogger, I figured his interests would align well with my own — which they did 🙂

We started out with a conversation at Cafe du Monde (honestly kind of a tourist trap in the French Quarter, but I hadn’t gotten my beignet and cafe au lait fix yet). As the powdered sugar blew all over our laps and equipment, we talked about the difficulty of staying focused when you work for yourself, my ideas for my upcoming journey, and all the small details that make NOLA special.

Beignets and cafe au lait at Cafe du Monde in New Orleans.

Beignets and cafe au lait at Cafe du Monde in New Orleans.

When I brought up the idea of a quick collaboration while Taylor showed me the parts of the city I hadn’t seen yet, he was immediately game (another thing I like about him). One of my concerns was (and still is) that I simply won’t have time while I’m on the move to do the editing required to put together polished multimedia pieces. I love recording sound, and putting it together with photos, but trying to record interviews and edit them down and coordinate with images — that’s just not an option right now.

So, accepting and embracing our limitations, here’s what we came up with: We’d walk around, talk, and Taylor would take photos of interesting things that characterized the areas we were in, while I took 10-second sound clips. I simply put the clips together when I got home, sent the sound file to Taylor with a list of where the sounds came from (I kept track in my iPhone notes while we were walking), and he added an image for each clip. It was his decision to throw it up on SlideShare instead of Vimeo, etc., and I like it, since you can easily go back to a specific image.

Since I’m also interested in exploring the collaborative process, I wanted to have a little debrief session with Taylor to publish with our project. Again in the interest of time and ease, we decided that he would send me a question by email, I would answer it and send him one back. He would answer and respond with a question, etc. The result is below.

Taylor Davidson: I’ve done many collaborations with photographers where we were in the same places, going through the same experiences, looking for the same things: pictures. But collaborating like this was different because, even though we were in the same place, we were looking for (seeing and hearing) different things to capture. And different things struck us, caught our eyes and ears. Are you surprised by what I saw and what you heard?

Miki Johnson: I remembered you taking many of the photos you ended up including, but not all. It was good to see new angles of things I had missed or observed differently. One big difference between the photos and sound is that often there are pictures of a landscape or building but the sound is of people. Do you think this is distracting? I kind of think it works for this, but if we had wanted to coordinate better, would there be an easy way for us to make sure you had a visual of everyone I recorded, and vice versa?

TD: We might see buildings or landscapes first, but we hear people first, right?  I don’t find it distracting; in fact, I like hearing the audio of moments I had forgotten, snippets of conversation I missed, sounds that I hadn’t picked up. Would more coordination make it better? We talked a lot throughout the day about embracing constraints, the joy of the unedited image and experience, the love for finding the unexpected. What would happen if we each tried to catch a sound or an image for what we thought the other person was hearing or seeing? Should the final product reflect the intersection of what moved each of us independently, or a larger set of everything that either of us caught?

MJ: Good point, Taylor. I think that if this were a big, polished final project we were working on, coordination would be more important. But since one of our goals was to cut down on editing time and to allow us to continue to enjoy the experience of seeing the city without overwhelming us with production considerations, having us each focus on our own experience works well. Do you think that initial intent should be made clear to the audience before they view the piece? Is it important they understand how we made it and what our intention was, or should even a simple, quick piece like this speak for itself?

TD: I agree. Setting expectations up-front about making this simple, easy, and largely unedited allowed me to just experience the day without harping about the final result. There is a great power in just being able to see, hear, and experience without larger considerations. I hope you felt the same way, and I hope the final product reflects that; in fact, I hope the intent comes through as one views the piece. I would want anybody viewing this to get that feel just by viewing and listening to the final product, rather than presetting one’s expectations.

SO WHAT DO YOU THINK? DOES THIS PIECE WORK TO CONVEY WHAT WE WERE EXPERIENCING? IS IT HARD TO ABSORB BECAUSE IT’S UNPOLISHED? WHAT CAN I DO DIFFERENTLY NEXT TIME?