I’ll be honest, my instinct is to run. Talking to people I know? No problem. Strangers are a different beast. I want to say I wasn’t always like this but I remember my mother goading me into asking someone for help at a supermarket or a pharmacy and I’d shy away. Things changed a little in my twenties when living abroad because you simply have no choice: strangers were your only friends. Perhaps it was lockdown, the slow roll then sudden arrival of my thirties, the comfort of solitude or the therapy speak that trickled down through the media, but I found myself uneasy in unfamiliar spaces.
The internet tells me it’s ok to ‘protect my peace’, which might look like saying no to parties or dates in favour of staying home alone, cooking and watching seasons and seasons of Yellowstone. In truth, I’m beyond happy to have cultivated a sense of strength in my own company. I think it’s essential to be truly happy and satisfied alone; to translate loneliness into solitude. But I’m also aware that life is nothing without community, and community always starts out as strangers in a crowded room, an unfamiliar bar, a new office or sometimes on the streets of a city you love but might want to leave.
All this to say, when we began our TikTok series and I was sent out to the front of the Tate Modern, I was feeling a little anxious about approaching total strangers and asking them questions on camera. But the first person I talked to reminded me of the unbridled joy of human connection. I asked if I could talk to her about happiness and the glittering ‘ooh, what a great question’ she released was confirmation of our intention: to deliver a dose of good feelings. Dylan, our filmmaker who has been creating this video series for us, summed it up best: “I just feel so good whenever I finish a day of filming.” I’ve been reminded that talking to strangers is far from strange: it’s vital, it’s how we learn, and it can be the best way to cure the blues.
