Before and after photos usually focus on what changed visibly. But in this diptych, two prints of the same ship, one Outward Bound, the other Homeward Bound, the vessel appears nearly identical. The sails still catch wind. The wood still holds strong. From a distance, the ship hasn’t changed. And yet, everything has.
This is the subtle truth of the hero’s journey: it’s not always about being visibly transformed. Sometimes the only difference is what’s been endured, survived and carried back home, invisible but heavy.
The lighting tells part of the story. The “before” is cast in cool morning tones, wide-eyed and hopeful. The “after” is dimmer, moodier, like it has seen storms. But the ship is still sailing and standing. That’s the kind of transformation we don’t talk about enough.
As Jonah Lehrer writes in Why We Travel, “We travel because we need to, because distance and difference are the secret tonic of creativity. When we get home, home is still the same. But something in our mind has been changed, and that changes everything.”
In this world obsessed with evidence (proof of change in jawlines, waistlines, skin textures) we forget that sometimes the most profound transformations leave no visible trace. Or, worse, we demand someone look different to believe they’ve become different.
But this is what the diptych teaches: the arc is not always drawn across the body. It’s drawn across time, experience, and return.
Because the ship that comes back is not the ship that left. Even if it looks the same. And that’s beautiful.