Take the Leap
by Tiffany 'Tiff' Johnston
Rina is a multimedia artist participating in a residency abroad. She spends her days teaching kids and working at her Aunt's gallery. Her days seem to continue normally until she hears mysterious singing...
Chapter 1
The sun beamed on my face as I sat people-watching. A drop of sweat rolled across my forehead finally feeling the courage to leap from my face onto my camera lens.
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"Well there goes that"
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I moved to a different stair with shade. Honeysuckles kissed my skin as I wiped my lens. Sometimes, I sit out here to bring me back to my senses...
The town centre is full of bustling merchants, aromatic spices, and playing kids. One boy trips while playing tag. I chuckle to myself, kids always seem to fall over nothing. I reminisce on the times when I was that young. I would go out and run barefoot, climbing everything in sight. While walking home from school, I would rest at the edge of a creek, cooling down my feet from the day's adventure. Before leaving, I would take a honeysuckle for the road.
Now, I'm much older traveling place to place as an artist. I don't run barefoot nearly enough, but I still find honeysuckle trees as long as I'm lucky enough and today I happened to find one overlooking the stairs of the city's temple.
Everything was loud this time of day, but it was the perfect time for pictures. I like photographing other people doing simple things. Talking, sitting, staring off into space. It's crazy to think everyone has their own lives separate from each other, yet we all ended up here for some reason.
I closed my eyes, focusing on what I could. Haggling to my right, teasing to my left, rustling leaves above me. I exhale.
Then it catches my attention. There was a peculiar sound under everything...one I haven't heard before. It was hard to make out. It almost sounded like talking, but it became more like singing.
I listened harder. A group of people? No. It sounded like a woman's voice.
I opened my eyes and closed them again. Maybe I'm hearing things.
No no no.
I hear her again.
Just as I was beginning to get lost, the 3pm bell rang. Time to go back.
I made my way through the droves of people in awe of the beautiful colors shining from every fabric, window pane, and plate of food. I see it everyday but it never ceases to fill me with gratuity. The air smelt of lavender and eucalyptus as I passed my neighbor's herb and flower shop. I walked up two short flights of stairs, a blessing for my asthma, and made it to my apartment door. I had been renting a small studio above the art gallery I work at in the evenings. I took my shoes off at the door and set my camera on the front table. I got another whiff of lavender, took a deep inhale in the stomach, and exhaled with a smile.
I like to leave my windows open for fresh air. At night, I'll sit by the back window facing away from the city to see the stars. I used to map them as a kid, asking to go to the conservatory on my birthdays. I always wondered what they were....
I grabbed the pitcher of lemon-ginger green tea I made that morning. The cool breeze caresses my skin.
I went into the freezer to get more ice.
"Fuck, I'm out"
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looks like I'll get some in town tonight.
I wet a white scarf and wrapped it around my head, leaving my little black curls to peak out.
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"Riiinaaaaa!!!"
Written 4/13/24
Chapter 2
,I hear from the front window
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Andddd, I'm late.
I grabbed my leftover sandwich and headed downstairs.
"Aunt Jamiaa!" I said a smile.
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"Next time your late, it's three bites" she grabbed half of my sandwich, "fashionably late at that. I swear you artists are as free as the wind. Not a care, yet all the care in the world..." She began rambling about her days as a young artist.
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Aunt Jamiaa is the owner of the art gallery I'm in residency for. Is she my actual Aunt? Not literally, but hse's everyone's Aunt. She's been a resident here for 70 years. You could never tell that was her actual age. She is very lively and young at heart. She wore long flowing dresses and large platform sandals, hiding her lack of height. She adorned herself with long dangly earrings she made with beads and tons of bracelts handmade from local wood. She had chubby cheeks with deep dimples. She always smiled revealing the wide gap in her front teeth. Her hair was a beautiful silver, organized in locs that fell down the length of her back. Today, she had them up in two butterfly buns.
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"Titi, once an artist, always an artist."
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Aunt Jamiaa had retired as a Jewelry maker in '96, A fashion designer in '98, and a photographer in...well never, she's still going.
After '06, She dedicated her time to open this art gallery housing indigenous works. Sometimes, I bring my kids to the gallery for art classes. When I'm not teaching or taking photos, I'm at the gallery helping with Auntie's outreach programs and assiting with the general upkeep of the shop. Whatever time is left, I am able to use the shop facilities to develop my film and print photos.
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"I know, I know my niece"
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She goes back to her apartment which is on the left side of the shop, next door.
I begin sweeping. Today all I have to do is clean, which leaves time to develop my photos from the week.
I close up shop around 20:00. Just enough time to take a shower and grab some rice and beans with cabbage from Margot's, the only Carribean spot in town. The owner opened the shop to help her sister through college. Her niece runs it now with an iron fist, but soft heart. Locals know, Rosa is not to be played with.
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I step into the cool night...
Written 4/13/24