Splash No. 147 - Precipice
Precipice
While trying to find a better response to “how have you been doing?” I’ve started saying, “I feel like I’m on the precipice of something.” As in, we’re on the precipice of a relatively normal life that is completely abnormal compared to everything that we lived through for the last year, and that we’ve all changed in ways that we haven’t yet understood and discovered. When I think of a mental picture for the word precipice, I think of a painting called Wanderer above the Sea of Fog that was painted by Caspar David Friedrich. It depicts a solitary figure standing atop a cliff (or maybe a precipice). The figure faces away from us, gazing into the foggy distance, which features silhouettes of faraway mountains and rocky formations. Whenever I look at the piece, I imagine the figure thinking, “what could possibly be next?” even as he enjoys his accomplishment of scaling the mountain that he stands on.
This work is considered one of the great masterpieces of Romanticism, an artistic and intellectual movement that reacted to the Industrial Revolution through a focus on glorifying the past, venerating nature, and an appreciation for human emotion. It feels like a relevant situation, as we look forward towards our very own Roaring 20s, as we remember how nature offered us our only respite from the raging virus, as we all learn to collectively heal from the pain of so much grief.
We’re all standing on our own precipice, contemplating what lies in the misty vista beyond. Every person has a different set of things that they’ve missed out in the past year. For some, their college or high school graduations — once in a lifetime events that they can never get back. For others, much worse things. My situation is simpler — I’ve lost a year or so in my twenties, which isn’t the worst thing. I spent about 9 months working and living in San Francisco before the pandemic hit, and have spent most of the last year back at home. What stands before me is the world back in the city where I live but have spent little time in.
In some weird way, this moment reminds me of the summer before college, or the summer before I moved to San Francisco in the first place. The uneasy mix of apprehension and excitement about what is to come — the daydreams of a summer like a movie, and the fears those daydreams will stay dreams. But for once, I’m not alone in this. Nearly everyone I know seems to be in different stages of the same process. As we receive our syringes of salvation, we begin to plan all of the things that we can and will do, while wondering if any of it will actually be possible.
I’m excited to walk through art museums again and spend so much time in front of the pieces that I annoy my friends. I’m excited to eat in restaurants and eavesdrop on people’s random conversations and imagine what their lives look like. I’m excited to visit the homes of my pals and see the parts of them that exist outside of themselves. I’m excited to go to concerts and jump and feel bad for the short people behind me and to sing the lyrics of my favorite songs incorrectly because I always mishear them.
At the same time, I’m scared. I’m scared that I’ve lost the ability to make small talk, and that I’ve become some sort of anti-social troll who can only speak in internet-speak and weird riddles about NFTs or whatever. I’m scared that I’ll be too scared to actually enjoy the beauty of the collective joy. More than anything else, I’m scared that after some time, we’ll forget how amazing it is for us to gather together and be able to exist in each other’s company.
If I learned anything from the one time I sprained both of my ankles while descending from the summit of a hike, it’s that going down from a precipice can be treacherous. I also learned that walking downhill for 30 minutes with sprained ankles is horrible, but is easier when listening to the hit song “Panini” by Lil Nas X. But also, the journey down was made easier by my friends cheering me on, helping me find a stick to walk with, and pointing out the difficult portions. I hope we can all do the same by being patient with each other, as we plunge into the unknown.
Drops of the Week
PLAYLIST - it's going to be a motion picture - I made this while writing, as my hopeful summer playlist that will soundtrack my adventures (hopefully). It's massive and includes all of my favorite upbeat and summer-y songs, from Kanye to Kaytranada, Vampire Weekend to Paramore, and beyond.
ARTICLE - "What a Tiny Masterpiece Reveals About Power and Beauty" by Jason Farago - following my art history vibe, this is a really interesting deep dive into a work of art from Shah Jahan's reign in India. It's a lovely representation of the cosmopolitan nature of his reign, incorporating elements from several different cultures.
BOOK - The Devil Finds Work by James Baldwin - James Baldwin is one of the GOATs of English writing and essay writing, and he shows his skills by talking about a bunch of movies I've never seen and still manages to make it feel lifechanging.
With each day, we can move closer to a more equitable world. Reminders:
Donate to Asian Americans Advancing Justice Atlanta Mutual Aid Networks
Anti-racism resources
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Precariously yours,
Nikhil