WORDS & PHOTO: ALIX CRITCHLEY
I tend to gravitate toward anything that offers a candid look at humanity. Photography, writing, bartending; each allows me a peek at how others are navigating life. I like to observe, preferably from the other side of something. Whether that barrier be the wood of the bar, the spine of a book, or my trusty camera, I favour some distance before I jump into the social pool. I have always had a hard time feeling like I fit in anywhere, so I learned to watch and listen for a familiar spark; to feel connected, feel in on something, conversant. One of my favourite activities, especially when I’m tending bar, is catching pieces of other’s conversations. I find myself impulsively tuning in, delighting in the jabber while I pour all matter of social lubricants. Few things are more fascinating to me than what spills out of people, particularly when inhibitions are thin. Watching people operate when they forget that others can see or hear them is a quick way to understand the living rhythm.
It is never dull to witness humans simply doing their human thing. Even the mundanity of smoking a cigarette is charming because everyone does it differently. I have found joy tarrying in the spectator space for a long time now, but I wasn’t always this way. I am endlessly driven by curiosity, obsession, yes, but I spent a lot of my youth trying to force myself into the world. I was bossy, loud, stubborn, selfish, weird, I didn’t know how to engage or relate. I had to learn how to slow down, how to appreciate a backseat, float instead of push. So, I withdrew and began peeking into proverbial windows, listening, and letting things be revealed instead of attempting to pry them open. The camera helps, the bar helps, keeping open ears and open eyes. There is so much to see in one another. I’m still trying to find my place in the chaos, I’m still loud and weird and sometimes stubborn, but I’m taking comfort in looking around and seeing that most everyone is just as layered.
The things that people volunteer and choose to reveal are precious, absolutely, but they are not the whole picture. In my experience, it is never what people let me see, but what they cannot hide that intrigues and entices me most. There is exquisite honesty in the overflow; the idiosyncrasies, the little things that have become coded, the raw stuff that pours out uncontrollably. For as often as I mutter, “ugh, fuck, people”, I really do love people. Beyond watching them, there is nothing better than a true connection, a deep confab, hearing, touching, smelling. Humanity is fucking ugly, but it is beautiful too. I see everyone still upright, holding on to their last burning embers; sharing a collective desire to be alive, to navigate and wade together. Of course there are those who ride a diametrical wave, but that’s what makes finding the kindred people so glorious. So, I’ll keep peeking.
