Ekphrasis

“Hey, forget the hashtags. Use your words.”
This comment annoyed me. My dad left it on a photo I posted to Instagram with a caption of nothing but hashtags. If words he wants, words he gets. Out of spite, I published a trio of photos with a brief tale of sci-fi horror inspired by the imagery. My sister commented, “idk if this is what he meant lucius.”


Two years later, that gentle chide for authenticity (and me being a smart-ass) has resulted in 80+ pieces of photography and prose. Adrian introduced the last element of this accidental endeavor when she asked if I knew the term ‘ekphrasis’ after I made the first post. I found the best explanation on Wikipedia: “...in which one medium of art tries to relate to another medium...in doing so, it may enhance the original art and take on a life of its own...”
Starting unofficially in 2018, I published a few pieces a month. Either writing something inspired by a photo or taking a photo to encapsulate some writing, then releasing both as a single work. The practice allowed me to explore my interest in film photography, and experiment with my writing. I also discovered it offered a creative break from my long-term screenwriting projects and kept me motivated. I upped the ante in 2019. Fifty-two ekphrastic works, one per week.
Here at the end of the year, I’ve come to realize this strict timetable has drunk up most of my creative oxygen to the detriment of my screenwriting. Ekphrasis became a product instead of play and lost all its benefits.
I once committed to a project over a summer in college. I learned a lot about video production, time management, and even made a chunk of change. I asked my mentor at the time if I should do it again next summer; money being the motivating factor. He said, “Well, you already did that. Maybe do something new.” Not what I wanted to hear, but I listened. The next summer I ended up shooting documentaries overseas.
So I will be putting it away for 2020. Ekphrasis will remain part of my creative practice, but it can’t be a rigid schedule. I’ll turn to it when inspiration strikes or when I need a breather. But it’s time to make space for something new.
Involution
Michael
Crickets
Moms are selfish like that
The Forest
Deeds
Wicker
Windmills
Dowse