Today I start my One Hundred Days of Summer project with Rona. I've been getting excited about it for weeks now, a sort of nervous energy similar to the kind I get just before exams.
I think this project could help me in all sorts of ways, and allow me to branch out and try new things with my photography without being worried about the reaction. I think it could turn out to be a beautiful document of a wonderful summer. I think it could be used as a challenge of stamina and determination and creativity.
My aim is not to produce a stunning photograph every day. It is to pick up my camera once every twenty-four hours for the next one hundred days, and to document my eighteenth summer. That is all. The nervous energy comes from wondering what, exactly, that will produce.
I went to bed late last night, after messaging Rona to wish her good luck, and fell asleep thinking about what sort of photograph I could take on a day which was forecast to be drizzly and overcast. I dreamt of photograph, and woke to someone's voice still ringing in my ears. It was still dark and my clock showed 0528, but instead of burrowing back under the covers, something made me roll over and look out of the window. When I saw the fog, thick and heavy like a grey duvet rolled out over the fields, it was like fate.
I've been waiting for a foggy day for so long, and fifteen minutes later as I left the house I had a hundred concepts in my head for my first summer photograph. I settled on a twisted foggy road and a half-eaten apple, on a misty dress and bare feet, on a turned back and the moment of stepping out.
This photograph comes from somewhere special; a week of anticipation and a moment of luck. This is the first of a hundred to come.