still lives

Photo Essay by Neeraj Jain

Travel allows us the opportunity to experience spaces transiently; something we already experience uniquely.

After taking a break from our journey to appreciate one of many cascading waterfalls in Sikkim, I noticed a crowd forming nearby. Siblings walking hand in hand; elders dragging their reluctant young ones. All converging on one face of the steep hills we were driving through.

Down below on a small pitch, two teams prep for combat. For the players and their fans, this match was as important and exciting as a World Cup. The entire village, whether they know the sport or not, paused to observe the spectacle. 

Meanwhile, I had a chance to observe them.
The people, the energy, the pace of life.
All conveyed in a single frame.
Not mine, but theirs.

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editor's note

Volume 09

clay | chlorophyll | crimson

Grass is green where you water it. LC’s words float along over Misch’s guitar. It’s a phrase that feels so obvious, and I’m sure those who tend to gardens know this more than most, but it seems to land more than before. The impact noticeable, memorable, echoing through my being. Perhaps we’re ingrained to think it’s greener elsewhere. This patch is the problem and not whether we’re watering it. The key is in the watering. How we go about this practice is what defines our patch of grass. No matter where we go, our patch is, perhaps, the same. Some attributes and characteristics have been changed but the essence is the same: Us.

Stepping into Volume 09 of imprint, marks our third year. I am learning that this patch of green that we have been tending to for the last several years will mould, shift, and sculpt. This depends on how we water it and allow it to take its own shape. It has already happened in wonderfully unexpected ways. There is only so much structure or shape we can predetermine. Beyond that, it will absorb what it needs and reject all that is unnecessary. And perhaps, in this practice, we are changed. Our grass is watered as we water that of our writing, our image making, our practice, our magazine.

From light to dark, rigid to supple, new to old, there is so much in between that is bright and vibrant and unexpected. The practice of our magazine has focused on being open to what we receive; being open to deeply listening to what is shared; being open to work taking us to new journeys. This volume, and this year, will be no different. We will continue tending to it as we have done, learning along the way, from past seasons and present ones.

And yet, I know it will be entirely different.
But still.
It will be watered.