Ben Bloom, Some Find It Nothing

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Text & Photography: Ben Bloom

Links: Website, Instagram

Ben Bloom, Some Find It Nothing

Raglan, New Zealand

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The more time I spend in Raglan, the more joy I get imagining you living here. It’s a funny, beautiful place, I can’t argue that. But you weren’t really one for conventional beauty, let alone beauty involving the outdoors. There’s a few cool cafes, some restaurants, and a little bar, not that any of them are open now. The «downtown» area is the size of a city block. It’s mostly mountains, beaches, and trails anyway. I always imagined you moving to a city after San Francisco but here you were, immersed in this little gossip ridden community of 3,000 people.

The swell was good when we landed in New Zealand, so we did our due diligence, scoring empty waves down south before heading to Raglan. The only part of the trip we planned was to be here for the day you disappeared. Or a year later I should say, I don’t think there’s a word for that? Our intention of celebrating your life was unclear. Do we call our friends back home to grieve into an iPhone screen? Maybe build some semblance of a memorial on your favorite hill overlooking the water? We just took LSD and listened to your playlists. That felt right.

When we left the next day we didn’t think we’d be coming back. We had two weeks left and a lot of places to see. We were travelling aimlessly, under the dark cloud of this pandemic. There was an underlying sense of dread but we just kept moving, finding more surf, meeting more people, burning through more gas. It caught up with us eventually. Flight canceled. Nationwide lockdown. «Stay where the fuck you are for four weeks». Here we go.

I think you came here with a similar intention. You were burned out, you didn’t know which way to turn, and you needed solitude. Real solitude. Although yours wasn’t mandated by a police force. You dealt with waves of loneliness, chaos, destruction, enlightenment, calm and clarity. It wasn’t easy for you, I remember that well. Days bled into nights. Leaving the house became an accomplishment. Eating became a chore. Existence was purgatory. But you found the other side. You found a sliver of hope, you found love, and you found purpose.

Now, most of the world is experiencing an unprecedented amount of isolation, forced inside, facing many of the same challenges. Apparently everyone’s a baker now. People find their ways to cope, I guess. We’ve got enough wine to kill a horse, a homemade tattoo kit, and a new found love for risotto. We spend a lot of time staring out of the window, but it’s nice even having the time to. I imagine you getting a kick out of all this, watching over us, laughing at our insanity, wherever you are.

Although we didn’t make it here before you left, I still feel like you’re always right next to me, like I’m doing things for you. I imagine your voice, passing judgement or subtly approving of my every action, as you did so effectively. And as I walk aimlessly out of the house each day with my camera, I feel like I’m taking photos for you. All these little details, these pieces of a place. They all remind me of you.

Thanks for bringing us here.

Editorial Notes:

If you have a story that you would like to present on this platform, please feel free to share it using the submission form.

Text & Photography: Ben Bloom

Links: Website, Instagram