Challenge Entry – Edge

Here I sit.
It is Friday night and SFS (Single Frame Stories) should be posted in less than 12 hours.
Here I sit.
It is Friday night and I still have not officially made my submission this week.

The word of the week is “edge.”

I do not think I am the only one to form a mental image of a razor-blade, but, then again, maybe it is just me. I wanted to take a picture with a black backdrop. I wanted a shiny, new box-cutter type blade. My mind’s eye could clearly see the razor’s edge, the light reflecting off the surface, the focus capturing the sharpness. I wanted to use a lens that allowed the focus of that edge to be so clear, so sharp that there would be no doubt of its ability to slice smoothly.

But, I also knew that I would not be able to capture the image in a way that would satisfy me.

Therefore, I moved on. Quickly. So quickly, in fact, that I had a new image before the day’s end. It did include razors. It also included bottles. I was going to use it with no caption and no explanation. You either got it or you didn’t. What you read into it would be what I intended or not; it was going to be put out there for you to interpret and apply your own meaning.

I shared the image with one person and she did not get it. What she “saw” was not even close to what I meant. Someone else got it right away.

I knew the image was risky because, for some, it could be very difficult to view. It is raw and dark and could have several different meanings – or none at all.

Later in the week I became unsatisfied with the picture. I say that, yet I wonder if I was truly not satisfied with the image or if I was just not comfortable with sharing the image. Either way, I decided to take the concept I had and work on it little more. Thus began my most reserved journey over the edge.

I called a relative and asked if they had certain bottles of alcohol that I could use for a photograph. They not only told me no, but they also informed me that it is a good thing I do not drink. “You’d be an expensive alcoholic.”

No, my relatives really don’t know me.

But I digress. This member of my family told me she, the family, and their friends are all cheap drinkers and mostly have beer. She did offer one brand of Vodka but it was not, shall we say, what I wanted.

A day or two later a friend and I were chatting. I asked her if she would be willing to lend me some of her bottles of alcohol. After a little clarification and informing her that it does not matter if they are empty or not (a little water, a little color, a little tea, I can make it look how I need), she was willing to let me use her stuff (no water or tea needed). 

Interesting side note: She is not an alcoholic and says she has not ever been drunk. She just likes to experiment with the flavors and have a little (seriously, little) drink every now-and-then. Yet, she has a bigger collection of booze than the serious drinkers I know. I guess in way that makes sense – in their houses, that liquor wouldn’t last! But, I digress, again…

This friend ended up letting me use her light box, lights, tripod, foil, and bottles. I supplied the camera, blades, and knife. The images, while they are mine - step up and photographed by me - they didn’t feel completely reflective of what I was trying to convey or capture.

After getting all the pictures home, cycling through them, choosing a few, playing with them in my editing software, I finally chose a considerably cropped picture. I manipulated it and added text.

Again, a couple of days later I became dissatisfied. There is another type of edge. Something that is not a literal sharp edge, something other than the vagueness, something different from an inability to cope soberly or escaping, something that is not over the edge, something more or less defined. The edge of broken heart, however that break occurs. Whether it is the kind that comes as relationships fail, the result of shattered aspirations, or any other moment that results in a broken heart, it is... difficult.

As for my submission for this week's prompt, in the end, I decided the “blood” in the images may be too much for some people to cope with – the meaning for them may be too difficult to unexpectedly face. I realize that many others will not “get it,” but this is not about whether they get it or not. It is my response to or expression of a word. The word is edge. Still, since I do not wish to push anyone over the edge, I did not choose not to display “blood” pictures. I think the two images I did choose to submit still express “edge” adequately. Don’t you?

Note: Stating that this is my "most reserved journey over the edge" means I did not partake in the consumption of any alcohol despite the portraits and accompanying text. Thank you.

 ~B