Why?
One of the largest catalysts for starting this blog space has been my ongoing attempts to separate my work as “Andrew L Bailey Photography: local music / community photographer” and my work and thoughts as “Andrew Bailey: crazy person that bounces through various interests and hobbies as a way to push back the darkness and fend off the ever present beasts of depression and loneliness.”
I didn’t set out to be a local music photographer. I didn’t set out to be seen in a public way at all. The camera has always been a tool by which I can interact with the world even though I don’t understand it. I see myself not as an artist or a photographer, but as a storyteller. Like writing, photography is a way for me to lay down my views, my thoughts, my experiences of the world and sit with them. These tools allow me to make the experiences real. they allow me to set them in ‘meat space’ and look a them; move them around, try and make them make sense.
Crazy mixed up world
I’m one of the weird breed of animal that thrives on experiencing life as part of the world, but really doesn’t enjoy being in crowds or in the spotlight. I’ve always had difficulties connecting to the people around me. I never understood my classmates growing up. I always felt like I was on my back foot when dealing with others, like I missed the orientation day where all the social expectations were handed out. Unfortunately, I was also gifted with the desire to build meaningful connections, the ability to digest and assimilate complex material quickly, an interest in language, and the desire to share the information I acquire with as many people as possible…. often loudly…. and with very strong opinions on the matters…
My difficulties reading the room and grasping social queues do not benefit me in these endeavors….
I learned quickly that I was / am weird. I’m ‘smart’ or ‘dynamic’ or ‘eager to learn’. Or sometimes it’s described as ‘opinionated’ or ‘overbearing…’ In my quest to find connection and be understood I more often find that my eagerness to connect and share drives people further away. This has become so much a core truth of my life that on the rare occasions that I DO have people approach me with real interest it’s absolutely terrifying.
I’m not sure what to do or how to act. It’s absolutely draining. And so /I/ retreat. not out of a desire to disconnect, but because the situations are so emotionally and mentally exhausting that I have to pull back to recuperate. In short…. I’ve always been ‘a lot’. often ‘too much’…. but also somehow never quite ‘enough’ for most people most of the time.
Storytelling
This is where the storytelling comes in. As I mentioned previously, storytelling is a way for me to cope. Movies, TV, music, plays, and books have all played a massive role in helping me shape my sense of self. It was through movies like “Star Wars” and the children’s shows of the 70s and 80s, along with a steady diet of reading whatever I could get my hands on, that I built1 my sense of morality and what was ‘correct’ in the world.
The largest drawback to this is that literature and entertainment are unreliable narrators at best. They tend to show us what we WANT to be and not what the world really is. I was left with the idea that while people can be terrible, they are inherently good and ultimately want to do good.
Unsurprisingly, as I slowly learned the truth of the world I found myself understanding it less and less. My pain and disappointment in humanity as a result is a daily companion. It was through writing and putting down the narrative of my feelings and experiences that I would my first real creative outlet to parse the realities of life. Soon thereafter I found that collective storytelling through roleplay game me a way to parse my confusion and disaffection through abstraction. I found myself able to try on new hats, to expose myself to new experiences, ideas, and situations that I would never be able to otherwise. It was safe and it was community. Then the world changed.
In 2004 I was failing. I’d just finished what should have been my final quarter as an English major and didn’t make the grade. My personal relationships had crumbled. I was barely making ends meet, often living on couches or in my quickly crumbling car. My parents and siblings were living in Germany and due to various reasons We had barely spoken for 3 years. I found myself defeated. I’d done everything I could to make it all work. I worked multiple jobs while going to school full time. I’d been a dedicated partner to my significant other, and I’d done my best to be a good human being. Yet it was all falling apart at every turn. So, after failing my classes, my roommate deciding he was moving out, and my significant other deciding that she wanted to ‘spare my feelings’ and not tell me that she had found one of our close friends more appealing…. yet again…. I needed a lifeline.
Mom to the rescue…
While unloading to Mom on one of our all too infrequent phone calls she and Dad extended an offer… one they they most defiantly couldn’t afford, but one they made all the same. If I could get my things in order and get to my Aunt’s in Oklahoma they’d cover my plane ticket and pay off my credit card. I could step back and stay with them, work, and reassess. I bailed on my lease, sold everything I could offload, and used the cash to put everything I couldn’t into a one-way moving truck.
I started over.
- The ‘t’ ending used for the past tense of the verb ‘build’ is somewhat uncommon in modern English, however this wasn’t always the case. Episode 56 of The History of English Podcast has a solid overview of the particulars ↩︎