The Good Work.
Hibernal Solstice 2022
The Good Work.
I’ve finished selling my time for another year, but the work isn’t finished. The good work, the everyday work, the work I enjoy. How pleasurable it is to put that other work behind me and have the freedom to work on the work I’ve been waiting to work on. 1
But the other work still nags at me, pings form forgotten notifications or the endless thoughts of a sleepless night. It’ll take a week, more likely two before the brain and body normalise to a true state of relaxation and calm. For now I’ll focus on the good work and remember the training. Find that stray notification and turn it off, unsubscribe from those newsletters that no longer serve and don’t don’t open that email app unless you’re fully prepared to do that other work.
It’s me, James, bundled up in down and fleece as a snowstorm rattles my windows. 20cm so far, with no signs of stopping. No better time to bunker down and write this solstice newsletter.
I’m in need of a new camera. The Leica cameras I’ve been using for years now are no more. The Leica Q has returned to the school equipment storeroom whence it came — and the defunct Leica II is enjoying its retirement as a paperweight on my desk.2
Before their respective retirements they were put to good use. The LII followed me to the Noto Peninsula on a collaborative article for Papersky magazine with the photographer Naoki Ishikawa. The photographs taken on that trip were the last shots pushed through the lens of that awkward, but delightful piece of brass. It was my fathers camera before me, bought sometime in the 1930/40’s. The paint after years of use beautifully reveals the brass underneath, however the sliding fabric shutter has perished beyond repair. 3
The LQ more recently assisted a modest photography exhibition in Gifu city. A handful of photographs depicting an ageing shōtengai (roofed shopping street), representative of the changing —or unchanging, depending on how you look at it— Japanese society. The project was an excuse to spend a couple of weeks in a city I barely knew, talking to inhabitants who spanned cultural and economic generations. The photographs of which accompany this newsletter.
The LQ has corrupted me, I have become a camera snob. The joyful photographic experience that is the LQ makes it incredibly difficult to use any other camera. Those other cameras with their celebrated plethora of buttons and dials, programmable in an almost infinite number of ways only succeed in distracting me from the one thing I want to do; take photographs. I’ve tried, oh I have tried, but I just can’t remember —or be bothered to remember— the combination of settings to make the experience enjoyable. The Q, joyful and confident, the others anxiety inducing.
Serendipitously, Leica has rereleased the coveted M6 35mm film camera. Between you and I, I’ve secretly searched the used M6 market for a few years now; nearly pushing the buy button on more than one occasion. But now, a new M6! The temptation, the turmoil, the price tag! I tell myself the new M6 would combine the two cameras sadly missed; the pleasure of using film and the joyful ease of use. Like this, all manner of nonsense stories justifying such a purchase are circulating by brain. For now I shall remain cameraless.
I procrastinate out the window, the snow has stopped, the sun is shining and the frozen trees are sparkling photogenically outside my window. If only I had… 🙄
Movement
Nutrition
Community
Purpose
The other week I was stuck in a business hotel just a kilometre or two away from school. However, there I sat in my tiny room zooming the afternoons away in endless committee meetings. I was to be stuck no longer, for I was there to hold my design classes face to face, in-person, offline and off campus. Daring to leave our bedrooms, classrooms and meeting rooms, we walked and sat in coffee shops, ate morning-sets, drank refilled cups of coffee and talked about design. We talked the hell out of design, we joked and laughed about design and about each other. We put the world straight and closed the class with hugs and thankfulness.
This Zooming is making me lazy, there’s no getting around the fact. Busyness and business trips have also made me lazy. The so-called Super Hotel I was staying at was far from super, with its oh-so-convenient breakfast vending machines dispensing miso soup and coffee at the push of a button —unpalatable.
One student commented “Convenience is destroying society.” and we struggled to find any reasonable counter arguments. Ubiquitous conveniences are making me lazy and complacent (fat). I really need to get back on the bike or up and down some winter hills in my dust collecting snowshoes.
Speaking of coffee, I have spent the last half of the year learning to pour a good cup of coffee and brew an excellent cup of tea. My tea technique is excellent —weighing & timing— whereas my good cup of coffee has room for improvement. As with meditation, thoughts and feelings are gently noted, so too with the tastes and smells of the whole coffee experience. Each new roast is an exploration into the ritual —stop work, make coffee, appreciate coffee, notice nature, have conversation and so on. I’m lucky enough to have a few coffee roaster friends nearby and each time I pick up a new blend we geek out on grind sizes or water temperatures.
Call me lucky again, for just down the road within easy cycling distance, is a tea cooperative who have some locally grown organic teas. Another friend expertly combines these already delicious teas along with herbs, spices, fruits, flowers and a little magic for all I can tell, to produce tea from another dimension.
All this resulting in; less but better coffee — more and better tea. Yes, coffee good, enjoyed, but the effect of tea throughout the body is what I would call calming and energising. Pleasingly different from coffee. I’m also warmed by the whole process from field to cup being local.
Speaking of fields, this coming spring, after the snow has melted, I will be starting my journey into farming. Just a small neglected field between neighbouring houses at first. One neighbour —the only organic farming neighbour— has invited me to make use of the empty field together. I have ideas of regenerative farming, natural farming, permaculture and all, but first I shall listen to his guidance and branch —pun intended— out form there. I have a dozen or so sprouting citrus trees growing from seeds collected from the fruits of Masanobu Fukuoka’s farm. These along with some kaki seeds (persimmon seeds) I’d like to transfer into the ground at suitable locations. Then there is the small but rapidly growing takenoko forest (edible bamboo shoots) which is in need of some loving care. Much to do, much to learn and much to look forward to in 2023. Thoughts of starting a diary to document the journey come to mind, but for that I’m surely going to need that new camera… 🤔
That’s about it for this year. I’m off to the sentō (communal bathhouse) which is really an onsen (hot spring) and colloquially known as the ofuro (bath in the house). There I shall quietly meditate on my breath, between stoking the internal central heating system of the body in the volcanic waters.
…and so it goes.
James
The making of soup, the baking of bread, the shovelling of snow etc.
I do enjoy a good paperweight and have a small collection.
Rest assured, my dad’s still going strong, exposed brass and all.