Charlotte Street Foundation identifies the needs and fuels the evolution of an ever-changing multidisciplinary arts ecosystem, acting as its primary provocateur. We cultivate the contemporary, the exceptional, and the unexpected in the practice of artists working in and engaging with the Kansas City Art Community
We’re supposed to look forward to a new year. Why, then, does the week preceding 2015 fill me with daily dread and a sense of incompleteness?
Topping last year’s movie-of-your-year feature, this year Facebook has an application that pulls what it thinks are the photos that tell the story of your year. Lovely idea, a photo montage minus the elbow grease, but also, as with the aforementioned movie, personal choice. The app pulls all the photos you ever posted on your Facebook profile and assembles them chronologically, lets you choose a primary-colored motif and then – voila! – there’s your life.
I watched mine, and I have to say, when the lights came up, I wanted to be the producer who called for a new scene because that ending “won’t play.”
My year wasn’t that unphotographable, was it?
The problem is that my memory of 2014 and Facebook’s memory of my 2014 present two completely different visions. The Facebook application ignores that not all of us had a 2014 we documented with photographs, or if even we had a year we want to remember at all. This wasn’t the case for me, and though I had some hardships and financial hiccups, no one close to me, I had a year of small steps that were necessary, if unheralded by a camera flash.
Still, seeing some of the presentations of my friends, I’m chastising myself for not being more selfie-motivated. And, clearly, I’m not going enough places where photographers are roaming. As I get older, I think I’ve learned to embrace the realities of why I’m not photographed when I do go out. I’m not a gregarious person, and not one who even likes being photographed.
The aforementioned notwithstanding, the photo presentations, along with end-of-year remembrances in photos and in lists, just increases my wish that we could hurry up and get through the rest of the remaining hours of 2014 with no more photographs of ourselves piecemealed into the life Facebook says we had.
There’s something to be said for solitude. To take a moment for oneself and reflect on the year and whatever lessons it gave us. I can’t look at the past year without being grateful for having the present and who I share my life with and who I want to become in the next year.
Ambivalence about end-of-year rituals won’t keep me from popping the cork tonight, hugging my near and dear, and celebrating a life of steady writing. The work isn’t easily captured for exploitation by Facebook, but I’m going places Facebook can’t follow. Burrowing into 2015.