i like to tell stories : Promise Lane

Promise Lane | Rochester, NY | 1994

I recently posted some images counting down to an event, an event I knew would be one of the most significant in my life to this point or at the least, or at the most, more significant a moment then I have experienced in any time I that can remember.

Images of this event I then postponed, or canceled once started, as the pressure was too great for someone very close that I cared for. I did not feel this pressure when maybe I should of as I honestly don’t always see what is clear when what is clear or known to me, I find only wonderful.

The image countdown felt familiar, so much so, I remember telling someone about it and how I do it often, but I could not recall when or why it defined a part of me so easily nor when I last did it. To some, a self imposed delay can make the reward only greater, but when a moment is right to me, it is very hard for it to feel correct ever again. So I jump and blindly hope for the best.

Then, I remembered; I don’t really do this countdown often at all it turns out, at least not in a way that I am always aware of in the moment. I can only think of one other time… The two events were not the same, the countdown was not the same.

In 1993/1994, I lived with two couples. Both of these couples were a year ahead of me in school and before they went their ways and I went mine, both of these couples got married. I was invited to both weddings and invited to make photographs at both weddings. I had been alone at the time and would remain so. While they had all found and fell in love with each other in school, I had not found anyone.

This has always struck me as disappointing and yet I took pride in it as I knew my life had remained all about me and trying to learn all I could while I could in such a small perfect little expensive vacuum.

In July 1994, I worked in a museum for the summer and was house sitting in a home that was less then welcoming. I use to steal film here and there and go for walks with my deceased and unmet grand stepfather’s camera. I made work prints in the museum after hours and kept my test strips.

In September 1994, a previous roommate’s wedding was coming. I wanted to mark the wait or the countdown. So I got the bride’s address and as the wedding approached, day by day, I dropped one test strip from these images into the mail simply with a stamp slapped on it to her at her parent’s house.

Her parents lived on a road called Promise Lane.

The only time I heard or thought of these images again was later at the reception when I had already sort of forgotten sending them. The bride’s mother informed me that when they stopped, she missed having a new image in the mail each day.

Fifteen years have gone by now since I did this or looked at these images. I could of made them this past July and mailed them last week.

I cannot escape myself and I too like new images in the mail each day, when they stop, I also miss them.

I am sentimental.

Using this site yesterday, I wanted to send myself many many many images from this past July, I sent them to myself here, in September.

I am nostalgic.

Maybe you saw them and maybe you missed them when they stopped. I did.

I am romantic.