#6: A bokeh home of feelings
A meta reflection on this photographer's infinite pursuit of the perfect blur (and aesthetic clarity)
My lifelong ambition has been to unite the utmost seriousness of question with the utmost lightness of form.
Milan Kundera
At the seemingly ripe and decidedly (at least, according to me back then) wise age of 21, I decided to pick up a copy of Milan Kundera’s The Unbearable Lightness of Being. I inhaled this novel in a matter of three days, each word bringing so many of my feelings on the very topic of feelings in clear focus. It’s quasi-comical that a novel built so much on suffering, darkness, and weight also gifted me the perspectives I hold so close to myself. Then again, it’s also (spoiler alert) a book built on the simple delicacy of lightness and the reasons to pursue it.
Without divulging much more of this masterpiece, I will say that this book gifted me with a keen appreciation for the concept of “eternal return”. So I’m going to be that cliché writer who cites (or rather, re-cites) Nietszche to set context. Eternal return, put in the simplest of terms, is about living one’s life repeatedly (many, many, many times…) with every single detail recurring (many, many, many times…) with every beautiful, happy, loving feeling alongside every pain, sorrow, and frustration. We are seldom offered do-overs in life but the very idea that a moment can occur an infinite number of times was incredibly overwhelming to my 21 year old self. Now, to my almost 30 year old self, this periodicity of feeling is ultimately grounding.
And a sense of grounding is what I sought this week for more reasons than one and it was during my quest for it that I re-discovered my love for long walks. Just to be extra poetic about it because ~80% humidity in my little red dot might make some of us forget, what is not to love about a pensive evening walk taken intentionally during the last moments of golden hour? Love the feeling of the sun’s fingers gently bidding my day farewell, and the moon’s ivory arms curling in for a much-needed hug. It was precisely a walk like this this past Tuesday that offered a humbling reflection on the stable roofs (and walls) we construct to house our feelings. As I was strolling through the Botanic Gardens, enveloped in the crisp sweetness of tembusu, I captured a shot of a gorgeous cluster of heliconia psittacorum chilling in their glory and with a backdrop of comforting bokeh.
As a photographer, I live for my bokeh which for all technical* intents and purposes is essentially an out-of-focus blur. Learning how to create the perfect bokeh has been one of my favourite experimentation points about photography. Over time, my fondness for bokeh has only grown and to me, it has become more than just an artful blur. To take it a stride further, bokeh is the aesthetic magic brought on by (funny concept) “circles of confusion”.
Could it be that eternal return is just a more metaphysical way of celebrating the process of learning to seek clarity? Just like for bokeh, perhaps “circles of confusion” (outside of its interpretation in the science of optics) are really just meant to ultimately produce an aesthetic clarity that one would not appreciate otherwise. Maybe the feelings we feel find their ultimate home from the confusion they may stir up to begin with.
I mean this in the least armchair philosophe manner as possible when I say that life is ultimately in flux. Things are consistently evolving. Infinitely so, this evolution sets forth many other intrinsic changes, some earned from painful repetition, others beautifully conceived from “once but never again” decisions. This is also precisely why bokeh is so alluring to me. The idea that something so inexpressibly beautiful can only be born out of “confusion” somehow makes all of the other moments filled with despair (it’s almost #Aries season, keeping the drama alive for y’all) and confusion feel that much less overwhelming.
There is a sense of power to accepting that you will simply face these difficult moments time and time again. There is great levity in embracing that these momentary storms will pave way for a sun-kissed appreciation of the difficulties. And there is ineffable affection in running towards those circles of confusion, swirling in the cone of light rays and proudly owning the resultant dreamy magic. The same magic that brings everything around it into clear focus, with a depth of field that one can only marvel at.
As I think about the home I’ve built for my feelings in my 20s, I know my feelings will eternally pass through its halls time and time again. This home is a muse built out of many minutes of befuddlement but ultimately warmed by the natural light that follows most emotional storms. Its walls are painted in a soft pastel palette, delicately sheltering its vivid rooms where many a feeling moment have been had.
One thing is for certain, the centrepiece of the bookshelf in my bokeh home for feelings is unbearably light, and all about simply being.