I came to a realization this weekend.
It’s not that I haven’t been noticing, it’s just that up until this point I’d been successful in remaining in denial of the truth.
However, this weekend I was forced to confront reality. And the reality is that how I feel on the inside and what I look like on the outside no longer have anything in common with each other. This was all brought (rather harshly) to my attention by the XRS photo shoot that took place this weekend.
A friend of ours came up Saturday night to take some band shots of Glen and me in the industrial complex where our music room is located. It’s a great place to take pictures because it’s got a lot of great doors, lights, tunnels, and stairwells that make for very urban looking photos. Our friend Erik is a very talented photographer and I am in awe of his “eye” I love how he sees things that I never would have seen on my own. I learned so much from him in the time we spent shooting on Saturday night, and his use of only the lighting we had on the buildings made for some fantastic shots. Pictures you’ll never get to see because unfortunately, the lighting that is wonderful for creating very moody industrial looking images is not at all flattering to my middle aged face. And when I say it’s not flattering, I mean in a holy mother of God who is that old woman in the pictures kind of way. I’d been telling myself up until this point that anytime I took a bad photo or looked in the mirror and saw a tired looking person, that I didn’t really look like that, it was just poor lighting that was causing the less than stellar reflection (regardless of how many different places/times this would occur). This weekend’s photo session made my denial something I can’t unsee. The truth is, I look my age. And after the photo session this weekend, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t struggling with that a little.
Oh alright, I’m struggling with it a lot. And before you go judging me for being shallow and vain, please extend me the courtesy of hearing me out. Here’s the thing kids, (with one or two exceptions) from the very first moment I stepped up to a mic and auditioned for a band, someone has told me how I needed to look. The fact that I got up to said mic and sang my ass off was always secondary to the image I needed to present to secure my place in the lineup. Those are the facts. I don’t have to like them, and I’ll even tell you that I understand them to some extent. But I want you to imagine 30 plus years of being told over and over and over again, that what you looked like was the most important piece of the equation. When I look back at pre-XRS photos – the girl I see in the photos looks lost to me. And with the luxury of hindsight I know why I look that way. I was so busy trying to be what everyone around me was telling me I needed to be, that I rarely stepped up to the mic as myself. I can’t change that, it’s the past. Now that I’m older all I can do is try not to repeat history. Right?
One of the things my friends tell me is great about the fabulous age group I am now a part of, is that with the fifties comes wisdom. I’m still waiting for it to arrive because I’m feeling like worrying about my aging face is so very forties and that I should be thinking about all the important and wise things people in their fifties are supposedly thinking about except….all I can think is fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck I no longer look the part. Maybe I never did. Maybe I was so busy trying to look like what other people were telling me I should look like that I completely missed my opportunity to just be me on stage and let the rest be whatever it was going to be. Instead I squandered my youthful years worrying about what everyone else thought about me. And g’damn if I’m not still doing the same thing. When I look at the photos from this weekend’s shoot I’m looking at myself through the lens of other people’s expectations, at least what I perceive those expectations to be. And I’m not measuring up, which is why on Sunday afternoon when Glen and I were looking through the pictures together trying to decide on which images we wanted to use for our site, I looked at him and asked “do I look this old in person, please tell me it’s harsh lighting in these photos and that I don’t look like this in real life”.
Glen and I have known each other for a very long time, he is one of my oldest and closest friends and I trust him because I know when I look at him and ask him a loaded question like “do I look like this in real life” he’s going to answer me with the truth even if I don’t want to hear it. So when he said “Chris, it was very harsh lighting you don’t look like this in person” I was greatly relieved. I didn’t press him because I suspected he had just looked me in the face and lied, and frankly, I was grateful. My gratitude was short lived because in the next breath he looked over at me and said, “that’s why I’ve got sunglasses on in the photos. Next time the TV is scrolling the album covers, take a moment to notice how many of the aging rockers have sunglasses on”. To which I replied “what are you saying, I should wear sunglasses in future shoots”? He laughed and said “I’m saying you’re not the only person worrying about getting older”. This did not make me feel better. Later in the day, not one but two different friends told me they are very good with Photoshop and offered to help “fix” my pictures. They meant well, but their words stung. No one wants to hear that their face needs to be fixed.
And today I find myself revisiting the thought that I no longer look the part, and wondering where the heck that leaves me. I suppose I could spiral off into despair over the fact that I no longer look young and then I could make myself even more miserable trying to fight that reality with thoughts of botox and photoshopping, giant sunglasses, and the importance of flattering lighting, but just typing those things makes me tired. Or…..I could just roll with it. Own it. Embrace my wrinkles, tired looking eyes, skin elasticity malfunctions, (not for nothing but I've a sneaking suspicion that my sixties might be the involuntary jowl years) maybe I can just be comfortable in my own aging skin. I kind of like that idea, because for the first time, the pressure is off. I don’t have to look like anyone other than myself. And that works out well, because the impulse to write doesn’t go away just because I’ve got wrinkles. The need to create doesn’t disappear just because I no longer look the part. The strange truth of it is, the older I get the more important it is to me to follow my heart, the more I want to pursue my passions with abandon. And that's when I have the thought "hey, wait a minute, I've been wanting to try to combine mediums, bring my art ideas into my photography and tie that to the music".....hmmmmmm......I couldn't figure out how to pull that off but now I'm starting to realize that these photo ideas I've been getting flashes of in my head, involve lots of colorful costumes and cloth and meshing that into the environment of the photo, and if the focus of the band shots moves from the members to the image itself as the art....well then I don't have to worry so much about harsh lighting because (now's probably a good time to mention paint will be involved) I can just paint something cool on my wrinkles and fuck it maybe I'll wear some big bad ass sunglasses too! And suddenly I'm not so bothered by my middle aged skin elasticity issues, I'm too damned excited about exploring a new avenue of ideas for tying our band imagery and music together. Damn! This is going to be fun!!!