STORY-MAKING AND STORYTELLING:
David Goldblatt’s Photographs
I’m struggling with something about storytelling. Storytelling versus story-making. The meditation leader said last week that one of the purposes of meditation is to take a break from story-making, to just let what is, be. Not just to live in the moment, but to live in reality.
Like many of you, I have spent my life making stories. I’ve written several books—some fiction, some poetry—and even many of my poems are narrative. I studied psychology, fascinated by Jung. I’m curious about how we make meaning from dreams, and how therapy teaches us to change the stories we tell about the events in life that hurt, to take control of those moments through the ways that we talk about them. When I’m not making stories, I’m reading them. Story is all kinds of positive in my world.
But when a president decides to make themselves the head of the Kennedy Center, it’s about making a statement: the arts are under my control, too. When he fires military leaders and replaces them with weaker people that he can demand loyalty from, he is likely saying that he will not be controlled by the courts. When he says that the president of Ukraine is a dictator, he is turning lies into false stories. Story in this moment is all about catastrophe.
Yesterday, we went to see an exhibit of David Goldblatt’s photographs at the Yale Art Gallery. Goldblatt, a South African photographer, documented the impact of apartheid on his nation. https://artgallery.yale.edu/exhibitions/exhibition/david-goldblatt-no-ulterior-motive. What struck me about the exhibition was the need to witness. Quietly, he made friends and took photographs. Quietly, he recorded the everyday lives of those impacted by the horrendous policies. In each photograph, he showed the story of one person, one building, one moment—and by extension, one country. And while it took fifty years, things changed. Things always change.
My parents told me stories for years about how the world was falling apart. I’ve lived in a space, as a result, that tends to think that the world is always falling apart. When we’re kids, we accept the stories we’re given as truth. We use those as a foundation to build our own stories, and maybe when we get older, we reevaluate whether or not they serve us. Who controls the narrative in our heads? What happens if we step away from the narrative for a while? How should we challenge distorted stories that are made only to create fear and subservience? And how do we embrace stories, like Goldblatt’s, that bear witness?
Who benefits from the narrative? Who is left out?
(A moment of beauty, because I’ve promised you one in each column. Photograph is mine, not Goldblatt’s.)
Stories are powerful. They shape our lives. The story that we focus our attention on is the one that becomes strongest. But there is never just one story. There are multiple stories, something we’ve been trying to teach ourselves as a nation for the past sixty years since Civil Rights and second wave feminism, through the AIDS crisis and into LGBTQ rights. Right now, one story is that there is chaos and destruction on the federal level. Another story is that people and organizations are fighting back, using whatever tools they have. Another is that state and local level politicians have a great impact on our lives. There’s still separation. Another is that, despite the media’s portrayal, there are democrats who are fighting: locally, Chris Murphy, Jim Himes, AOC, Bob Duff.
I am not suggesting ignorance. I don’t really know what I’m suggesting. I do know that I have spent the last four weeks trying to figure out how to live in a new world—one that’s unformed and constantly shifting. What story am I telling myself about that? When have we been here before and how did we get through it? Maybe those are the stories we need. Art more than ever. Love more than ever. Compassion more than ever. And try, try, try to live in the moment. That’s the story I want to live. How about you?
Events:
March 12, 2025, Norwalk Public Library, Norwalk, CT, 6:30 PM: Margot Schlip and Barb Fulton Jennes, reading poetry about family and talking the literary life. The arts remain an avenue to share multiple voices in this world. Come join us!
A heads up on April, because there’s so much fun stuff coming up (all in Connecticut):
April 9: Harry Bennet Library, Stamford, CT, 5:30 PM: David Rich (moderator and panelist), Lyn Butler, Laurel Peterson, Wendy Whitman talking mystery novels.
April 12, Factory Underground, Norwalk, CT, Time TBD: Open Mic—music and words. More to come!
April 16: Writers in Conversation, Norwalk Public Library, 6:30 PM: Steve Ostrowski and Jean P. Moore, talking literary fiction and poetry!
April 23: Perrot Memorial Library, Greenwich, CT, 7 PM: Kevin Pilkington and I will read from our poetry and discuss for Poetry Month!
All are welcome at all events. Hope to see you there!
Thank you for crafting your words and sharing them. I appreciate how you wonder about stories - and find compassion in the words for myself, for us, and hopefully for others too.
Hi Laurel,
I share your concern about today's world but I'm fuzzy about your recommendation for where we go from here.
1-We must all acknowledge our contribution to the mess we find ourselves in: The maga monement, the coastal elitists, the too liberal academics, the movements that overshot their marks , like the feminists and BLM, and those who ignored everything going on around them in pursuit of the their own greed.
2-We must stop sweating the small things and recommit to the primary issues that shaped our country- FREEDOM AND DE,MOCRACY.
3-We must cut through all the hyperboly and recognize and call out all the lies and deviations from who we are and want to be as a nation.
4-We must recognize the needs of all of our people and never accept inequality.
5-We must inform our congressmen and women that we expect the highest levels of staesmanship if they want to continue to serve.
6-And finally, we must buy condoms for Elon Musk.
Hope you're onboard.
Stuart