Street portraits in London, a boy who lives out his days in the trees, photographic impressionism, and finally saying adiós to Spain. Let’s recollect on June.

Collaboration has never been my strong suit. My typical workflow goes something like this: have an idea, write down the idea, execute the idea, share the results, move on. I practically never work with anyone else and haven't for almost anything in my life. In my youth, I rode BMX and avoided team sports. I learned to play the guitar in my room and wrote and recorded an album when I was 18. I moved when I was 20 to a city I'd never been to, where I knew precisely no one. I prefer doing and making things on my own. Why? On one hand, I think it's because I like the creative freedom. I enjoy seeing something all the way through, exactly how it is in my head. On the other hand, it might have something to do with imposter syndrome. What if I work together with someone and they expose me to my shortcomings? What if I let them down? What if the project fails because of something I did? My ability to create things solo has helped me in numerous ways, but it's also been detrimental. Maybe I missed out on opportunities, new friends, or a chance at making a not-very-good album actually worth listening to.

Cut to almost exactly one month ago when Wesley Verhoeve, a fellow photographer, sends me a message. He pitches the idea of a collaboration. Because it's not in my nature to do these sorts of things, I hesitate, but not for very long. I agree, which I like to do before my brain gets the chance to spiral down that long, unforgiving pit of anxiety, and we plan the details from there. By the end of the project, all of my concerns seemed foolish. I've put so much of everything I've ever done wholly on myself, and sometimes I forget how nice it can be to work on something with someone else. For some reason, I try so hard to fit myself neatly into one box until I realize there are many boxes I can fit into. I am not and do not have to be alone in everything. Though I like it, and it mostly brings me a sense of fulfillment, it's not binary. I can indeed have my cake and eat it too, and hey, I think I will.

If you made it through that stream of consciousness, I encourage you to check out the finished project that Wesley and I put together. It's public, meaning free, on my Patreon right now. In the post, I talk about the what's and the why's, so I won't spoil it here. Anyway, I just want to take these last few words to thank my friend Wesley for, in some sense, coaxing me out of myself. He's such a brilliant photographer with a photographic purity not often seen. His work is honest and compelling, and I couldn't have had a better experience working with him. Please go take a look at the project (along with its BTS counterpart), and consider joining Wesley's newsletter, Process, as well. While this newsletter is a general summary of the month, Process has more to do with Wesley's photographic endeavors and processes, similar to my Patreon. Oh, and I also put out a very nice photo set from a Spanish road trip. Maybe give that some love as well!

Phew, ok let’s move on to everyone’s favorite section :)

Pale Fire. A masterpiece in so many ways. Nabokov plays with us as he loves to do. Once again, he employs the unreliable narrator device, leading us through a dense forest of subtle hints and tricks, most of which I won't pretend to fully comprehend. The novel begins with a 999-line poem, named Pale Fire, written by the recently deceased John Shade. What follows the poem, thus essentially starting the book itself, is a detailed commentary by Shade's neighbor, Charles Kinbote. So Pale Fire, the novel, is a fictional writer's commentary about Pale Fire, the fictional poet's poem, written by the very-real writer, Vladimir Nabokov. Do I recommend it? Absolutely, just don't blame me when you fall down the rabbit hole.

Night. I believe it's imperative that we attempt to understand to what deep dark depths human beings can plunge. History is a terror, and repetition is not impossible. Night, a memoir by Elie Wiesel, helps us see what we're capable of. Documenting Elie's experience of the Holocaust at the end of World War Two, Night is simple and sharp. Nothing I say here could hold a candle to anything written in the book, so I won’t go into detail. This is certainly not my first read on such a topic and will not be my last. If you'd like to begin to attempt to understand some of the horrors that occurred during that time not so long ago, I recommend this as a starting point. It's lighter, both in pages and vivid detail than some of the other essentials like The Gulag Archipelago or The Origins of Totalitarianism. It's not easy, but neither should it be.

Of Mice and Men. A classic that, until now, I've ignored. I have high school to thank for that. To this day, I can't read To Kill a Mockingbird without teleporting to third-period English class. Luckily, I managed to avoid many great books in my teenage years, so they haven't been tainted by requirements. I am grateful that I didn't read books like 1984, Crime and Punishment, and Frankenstein until my 20's. Of Mice and Men, I can happily say, falls into the same box. I enjoyed every page. Is it dated? Sure, but that tends to happen when stuff is made and time goes on. 1937 doesn't play by 2022 rules, and that's part of what makes reading the classics so intriguing. It's a peek into a life largely dissimilar. Of Mice and Men is a lean book, wasting no time getting to the good stuff. A classic for a reason.

The Baron in the Trees. My second encounter with Italo Calvino and his magical, sometimes absurd worlds. The novel makes a ridiculous plot believable and charming. There is a richness to the fictional world and its characters. In some sense, there's an invitation to investigate our own ideals and meaning. The novel is about a boy who, as a result of an argument with his father, decides to spend the rest of his life in the trees. The Baron in the Trees takes us on an adventure. It gracefully attends to our questions and curiosities and offers a complete picture of how the boy's life unfolds. It's a great piece of fiction, along with his other famous title If On a Winter's Night a Traveler. If you’re a fan of magical realism or philosophical fiction, this might also be up your alley.

Photos: Samantha Cavet

I want to make the most of the time I get to talk about Samantha Cavet's photography. I find it unique in a world enveloped by trends, and I feel it should be appreciated almost cautiously. Look too quickly, and you might miss it. Pulling from what looks to me like the great impressionists, Samantha melds the stark, hyper-real medium of photography with the idyllic and imperfect romance of paint on canvas. Her work feels somber and reserved. It has no interest in calling out to us, pleading for our attention. Instead, it waits calmly.

Samantha was born in Caracas, Venezuela. Due to the dangerous political climate, she and her family have resided in Madrid, Spain, since 2015. You can find links to her work and socials below, including a direct link to her print shop because if her photos belong anywhere, it's on paper.

Twitter
Instagram
Print Shop

Today is one of my last days in Spain. The feeling is bittersweet. To nowhere else have I given this much uninterrupted time. I formed routines, made friends, and became much more comfortable with the Spanish language. Sevilla is a gorgeous, passionate city. I feel lucky to have called it home. At the same time, I'm ready to move on. I think the heat has gotten to me, and the wanderlust has crept steadily back in. From here, Tallinn, Estonia. North. A cultural shift awaits, as does a temperature more to my liking. I'll be there for two months, give or take. The last time was 2018, and I am excited about the reunion. It's been a long time coming.

A couple of weeks back, the Spanish branch of Leica sent me an M11 and a 35mm lens to play with. I brought the pair on a week-long family trip to Lisbon. We hit all of our favorite spots, spent an evening sailing the Tagus, and hit the westernmost point in continental Europe, among other things. The camera surpassed my expectations in many ways, but I'll save the complete judgment to an upcoming Patreon post. The photos themselves, in terms of quality, are superb. There are factors worth considering when using a camera like the M11, and I'll dive into those details soon.

Tomorrow I will start packing. I've surely lost my touch after six months, so I need the extra few days to do it right. Living out of a duffel bag is easy when it's constant. Take it easy for a few months and it just feels ludicrous. It's time to pick up some speed and hang onto the momentum. Tallinn for two months, then we'll see what happens. Hey, that's all for this month. I hope you enjoyed this issue of Recollect. If you did, or if you didn’t, let me know. Hit the black box below to send me an email with your thoughts. I’m all ears. Thank you for the support. I’ll see you next month.