Liminal space

Starkfield Lane. Gregory Crewdson. (2018-2019) Source.

Out of all the people I know, there is honestly only a couple who can say they have had a good year in 2023. I've been referring to it mostly as a shit show. It started well. Galleries and gigs, tattoos, friends and fun. But as the year went on, things got more complicated and exhausting, both mentally and physically.

Peter's Dad had a fall in March and never went home again. Hospital, respite care and ongoing residential aged care. With that has come a lot of stress, more admin than you can ever imagine and the triggering of complex interpersonal relationships. Peter essentially has put his life on hold to sort things out and support his Dad. The admin and stress continues into 2024.

Uni study was complex for me. I'd picked subjects that required a lot of focus and time each week. I began to feel as I approached the end of semester 2 that I was running out of steam. Could I keep doing this? With anxiety and mental exhaustion through the roof I was contemplating throwing it all in. When people asked me why I was studying or what I had hoped to get out of it, I no longer felt like I had an answer. Why was I doing this to myself? Needing time to think and breathe, I asked my GP for a letter and applied for six months leave from my degree. One load was now temporarily lifted from my shoulders.

Work. After years of trying to flag workloads as an issue, our team was given coaches to help us with resilience training, delegation and time management skills. What ended up happening is that after talking to us and seeing a team struggling to carry the weight of their roles (and having a serious impact on a few of us), the coaches ditched their plans and began to unpack our roles and urgently lobbying for support. The sense of validation was immense. Finally someone was listening and understood. We were also offered counselling due to the long standing impact of our workloads. I was such a hot mess in my 2 free sessions, I was given four additional! This was both wonderful and incredibly hard. We talked about me leaving my job and what that would look like. I don't particularly want to, but for the sake of my health, may need to do this. We chatted about being at the same organisation since I was 17, and I'm now 53. I have grown up and become who I am partially because of my job but also because of some incredible colleagues/friends who have supported me. It's so hard to think about leaving, so I live in hope that things can change.

And as mentioned in the last post, perimenopause had turned my hormones, physical and mental health upside down. Work, study and covid lockdowns has meant I've been quite sedentary over the last few years. I'm now feeling the impact of this and know I need to begin moving again and increase my stamina and flexibility. Honestly, right now everything hurts!

In 2023 we missed gigs we had tickets to because we were mentally overwhelmed. We missed exhibitions because Peter was away in regional Victoria sorting his Dad's life out. We didn't see a lot of friends because when we were together we just wanted to hunker down and hide away from the world. We needed to decompress from everything else going on in life. 

Have you ever had those moments where you suddenly notice something, like Fiat cars for example. Then all you can see on the roads are Fiats. Somehow you go from never noticing them to being surrounded by them everywhere you go. Yesterday Peter and I went to a photography exhibition at the National Gallery of Victoria. In chatting about it afterwards, Peter talked about certain images capturing liminal spaces. My eyebrows raised. Towards the end of 2023 I heard the word liminal about 4 times in one week. Once on the radio, in the book I was reading, on tv and in conversation.

The definition is relating to a transitional process but being on the threshold. And honestly, that's exactly what 2023 felt like. That internal urgency, waiting to move forward but...stuck. We're on the starter's block, Ready, Get Set...but no Go. Photos of liminal spaces tend to be empty, desolate, otherworldly moments. But the sense of being in a liminal space is anxiety. Poised for action, but no change happening. It feels like being in limbo. On the precipice.

I hope 2024 brings with it a way forward. Change. Movement. A path out. A way to release the pause button of life. I no longer want to just tread water, I want to take a deep breath, and push ahead.

Untitled. Gregory Crewdson (1999) Source.

I have chosen these images, as the 1999 photo above was featured in the NGV exhibition. Gregory Crewdson is the king of liminal spaces. A paused moment, with so much going on and yet somehow frozen in time. Cinematic photographic storytelling.

Untitled. Gregory Crewdson. (2003) Source.

Untitled. Gregory Crewdson. (2005) Source