The Story of At My Window

The Story of At My Window:

When I was a child, there was a house we drove by often. There was nothing particularly special or noteworthy about the house itself. At the upstairs window, however, no matter what time of day or night, sat an old man. Always there at the window, an old man simply sitting and looking out.

I was enthralled by that old man and spent many hours wondering about him. Who was he? Why was he always sitting there? What was wrong with him? I imagined endless scenarios, mostly imagining how painful his life must have been. I never did find out anything about that old man and, with time, my memory of him faded.

A few years ago, I was diagnosed with a potentially debilitating condition. This completely blindsided me and, as fear overtook me, my mind frantically conjured up worst-case scenarios. In the midst of my terror I vividly recalled that old man in the window. Would I end up like him? Would that be what my life would be like? Was that my fate?

Quite unexpectedly, I felt compelled to sit in front of the various windows in my home and look out at the scenes before me. As has often been the case in my life, my camera was my companion and I set it up beside me. Like the old man in the window, my camera and I watched as time and life passed by.

There were periods when I looked out upon sustained activity, but mostly it seemed that not much of anything was ‘happening’ at all. I feared that my sitting there was a kind of craziness. Over time, however, something shifted in me. I became attuned to the subtlety and nuance of an underlying rhythm and flow. Simply observing in this way, I found my sense of foreboding eased and transformed.

I had previously imagined that being that old man in the window meant living a tortured existence – and perhaps that was his case. Sitting and looking out of my own windows, however, had prompted me to realize there were other possibilities. Perhaps that old man had moved beyond resisting and cursing what had become of his life. Perhaps he arrived at a place beyond calm acceptance of his fate. Perhaps he found profound beauty in serenely observing time unfolding before him.

I have very selectively culled and edited what my camera captured. At My Window is a suite of 15 videos, each 16 to 20 minutes long. They are of a wide range of happenings, from natural occurrences such as clouds slowly passing overhead, pelting rains of a summer storm, lightning and thunder rolling through the night, the transition from a driving snowstorm to a sunny spring day - to more human experiences such as a traffic jam forming then slowly dissipating, life flight helicopters coming in an out of view, the nighttime movements in the windows of a neighboring building, the seemingly choreographed dance of construction workers, the slow progression of cars as they pass through rainy, snowy, foggy streets, a flickering TV in a neighboring apartment building as evening descends.

I have collaborated with an extremely talented, diverse group of musicians/sound artists who have created soundtracks At My Window. They make use of a wide range of instrumentation including cello, accordion, guitar, violin, saxophone, singing bowls and vocals. The musical styles vary from jazz to choral, atmospheric to orchestral, Klezmer to funk, with one of the soundtracks created using AI programming.

It is my great pleasure to share At My Window with you. As you view these videos, I invite you to experience them in your own way. If you wish to, you can view them with me and that old man in the window in mind. Alternatively, you can drop any and all such thoughts, and instead treat each video as an invitation. An invitation to slow down and leave behind the constant stimulus and demands of contemporary life. An invitation to gently place your focused attention on the rhythm and flow of what transpires before. An invitation to watch – and to feel – what happens in your own being.

At My Window is dedicated to that old man in the window.
I send my loving thoughts and prayers back through time to you.
May you experience them as warn blessings in your then-present moments