Stories that stick
Photo by Jeremy Bishop
I first saw the short film Dark Side of the Lens years ago, but it keeps coming back to me. The film is a six-minute glimpse into the life of surf photographer Mickey Smith. I like to watch it with my headphones on and the video player set to full screen—no other distractions to interrupt my attention.
Once the credits are over and the music has dissipated, it’s just me, my thoughts, and a black screen with my reflection. The story’s grip gradually loosens its hold, sympathetically nudging me back into reality. And so I slink away, not wanting to go.
What is it about some stories that stay with us? The unshakable ones. The ones that stick.
On the surface, there’s nothing in this story that’s in any way reflective of my own life. I’ll probably (hopefully) never find myself waiting patiently under a three-story-high wall of ocean water, but that doesn’t matter.
I’m still connected to the story, pulled in by an invisible cord undulating beneath the visuals and cinematic effects. A cord tangled in nerves of passion, tension, desire, frustration, and a slew of other emotions one experiences in pursuit of creative fulfillment and a happy life.
So, in a strange way, I do see myself there—diving off cliffs into angry waves, camera in hand, grin on my face. Raw, relentless passion.