The evening of May 6, 2022. Drew’s house and a local dive with Andrew.
Sam and I connected with Andrew in the afternoon of our second day in Vancouver, and my brother treated us to a few sequestered locations south of Ted. In conjunction with my exploration of liminal space and dream photography, I was once again interested in digital noise as an aesthetic, and I switched over to shooting entirely on higher ISOs in an attempt to rekindle my desire for spontaneous photography. However, for the moment, I mostly kept my camera sheathed during my time with Andrew until later in the evening.
We reconvened with Ted at his brother-in-law's house, and it was here that I found inspiration in his cat, Viggo. Drew was hosting a party, and once I got the chance to meet Viggo, I took it as an opportunity to remove myself from socializing. I hid in Drew's room and began photographing Viggo, who timidly endorsed my presence. He clearly perceived some kind of activity happening outside the door, but whether he was internally curious, I could not tell. He waltzed about the room casually, not particularly excited or anxious, and it was hard to distinguish if this was his normal disposition or if he was stirred by the party. He was somewhat aloof as all cats are. I did, however, detect a bit of bravery and nobility on his part, fitting of his namesake. I was surprised he heeded me at all, invading his space and photographing him so incessantly.
At some point, I had a desire to share his company with Sam, but my sweetheart was busy participating with the guests outside, and I reflected on my own habitual exhaustion with socializing. It was one of the many things she did to enrich my life that I felt a temperate pressure not without a small bit of comfort to rejoin the party. Luckily for me, Viggo later followed, if only just to investigate the noise. Several other companions would also make appearances: a timid wiener dog I believe was named Charlie and an unnamed cat that only ventured its head outside the threshold of the stairway. Ted and Kara had also brought Reu, who was of course very excited and received plenty of admiration in return, although her energy would slowly drain over the course of the night.
I returned to the party as Sam was discussing the role of design in a culture that was more ingrained in social issues and which had a larger platform to express dissent. We later participated in a more elaborate (some might say convoluted) game of charades, of which I expressly refused to join, but through a collective pressure and a bit of internal pushing, I yielded. In that moment and more so later, I wondered why I so desired to avoid such direct social contact despite knowing quite clearly how it poisoned my happiness. It was an irrational stubbornness akin to my tantrums as a child when I would refuse to learn the alphabet. In that righteous and effective stubbornness was formed an internal, selfish pride that became difficult to exorcise. I likened myself to a man who was resolute and uncompromising, and had firmly made up his mind, being an intellectual of high thoughts. And much worse still, I sensed an unadmitted desire to remain isolated and ostracized and thus find sinful comfort in my sadness.
Such were these dialogues which spun too quickly in my mind so that in a sense I thought nothing in particular other than a resigned sadness and self-loathing. But I was indeed happy when I joined the game and I was actually quite good at the charades, although most of our team's success was the fortune of drafting one analytical and overly-competitive guest as is often the case with party games.
Once again, my eye was drawn to the mundane and the overlooked elements of the party, and occasionally to Viggo, who nestled himself stealthily in the corner of the room and watched the party-goers with an intense eagerness.
