Lost in Bliss

I mean Jill Bliss. Clearly, I'm not at work today.

As well as registering for permit classes online and journeying to the park across the street to take pictures I got on flickr and noticed that Jill Bliss, one of my favorite artists and stationary designers had some new work posted. I bought a journal by her years ago at Urban Outfitters and I was so knocked out by the design that I barely even wrote in it. I was so distracted by all her lovely illustrations of flowers. Later one I discovered that she also designed a series of note card sets, journals, journals sets and prints. Her set of "Native Flowers" is a part of my ridiculously mounting collection of stationary. I used to have such a bad stationary habit. I mean I never write anyone! No one writes anybody! But I just love stationary and I would go broke buying stationary just to have! That was a while ago. I finally cut myself off just so that I could afford lunch. I'm not very practical by nature but I had to reason with myself that stationary is about as useful as fencing these days. Incidentally, I was on the fencing team when I attended Bard College. Touche'

So anyway, Jill has a new line of forest and ocean illustrations that newly posted on her flickr account and they are unbelievable. I followed a link to her online shop and started to browse through more of her flora illustrations again when it dawned on me that much of her appeal for me has to do with the time I spent as a child in the Brooklyn Botanical Garden. I did two or three seasons in the Children's Garden as well and all we did besides garden was create things with natural materials and observe the way things grow and how they look and what their best uses were. There was one one guy who taught us only about insects. Jill Bliss' work really sort of brings that all back for me and it just occurred to me today.

I can tell just by looking at Jill's pictures that she really becomes these things. It's the only way to really see anything.




I love this picture of the black forest bear where the bear is actually composed of forest elements! And the octopus just makes we wanna dance! : )

The Second World

It is kind of a juggling act having two flickr accounts but as a typical Gemini, it is often necessary for me to experiment with duality or rather to have two or more of everything I really like, such as cameras, journals, blogs facebook pages,etc. You get the idea.

It's important to me to get a critical sense of my photography outside of the world of "It's so cute! She's so cute, that's so cute" doll land. Not that I don't take that photography just as seriously but I need more serious feedback in order to challenge myself.

At first my "The Wandering Eye" account felt a little lonely. My Zanalee account is securely established in a gigantic and probably growing community of well established doll collectors, craftswomen, photographers and just really cool people who pay attention to my work, constantly comment, respond to questions in group pools and are very supportive and fun, full of humor and creativity. In turn I love looking at their stuff and commenting on their amazing pictures. I have almost a hundred, if not more contacts, people whose work I look forward to seeing, whose clothes I love to look at and buy and people whose photographic aesthetic always blow me away. But in the world of Blythe, it all really comes down to her, not you. That's cool, but I also really just want to have a space for non- Blythe pictures where I can start to explore and expand my photographic voice again.

Early in my Zanalee flickr career I became a huge fan of a Baltimore photographer named "boyghost". I was incredibly inspired by his stuff. Personally, I'd just never seen anything like it and I was constantly moved by the composition and subtle unforced details of his work. He's one of the main reasons I wanted to get my Nikon D60.

Almost immediately upon opening my T.W.E. account, I discovered a photographer named "setsuna" who takes just some of them most amazing nature photos I have ever seen. It's not that she just takes a picture of something beautiful in nature which is relatively easy enough to do, but she shapes a way of seeing in that is incredibly intuitive and ethereal without being overly reverent or imitative.

View from Belvedere's Castle


This week she left a nice comment on the picture I took shown above which is great. I harassed her a little bit about her technique and printing so I'm glad I haven't scared her off. I also got a few other comments/criticisms from others this week, so I'm really happy about that. I need it and it's really wonderful to be able to do that on flickr, especially given how difficult it is to get people together to do this sort of thing in real time. Although at some point I would love to do that as well. Flickr just allows you to access work and present your work in such a diverse and freeing way. You're really traveling all over the world when you look at pictures, and not just geographic or proximal worlds, but inner, emotional and sensory worlds. Familiarity with strangers. Not so strange really.
: )

The Icemen cometh

The Icemen cometh
Originally uploaded by TheWanderingEye

Had a little low light photography fun this weekend. I went out for a second but the wind was just too strong so I just stayed inside and shot from my window. This was one of my favorites.

What will make us change?

From J. Krishnamurti, a man who did not beat around the fucking bush.

Are we willing to go into the question of knowing oneself? Because oneself is the world. Human beings, right throughout the world—whatever their color, their religion, their nationality, their beliefs—suffer psychologically, inwardly. They go through great anxieties, great loneliness, have an extraordinary sense of despair, depression, a sense of meaninglessness of living the way we do. Throughout the world, people are psychologically similar. That's a reality, that’s truth, that’s an actuality. So you are the world psychologically and the world is you; and when you understand yourself, you are understanding the whole human structure and nature. It is not mere selfish investigation, because when you understand yourself, a different dimension comes into being.

What will make us change? More shocks? More catastrophes? Different governments? Different images? Different ideals? You have had varieties of these, and yet you have not changed. The more sophisticated our education, the more civilized we become—civilized in the sense of being more removed from nature—the more inhuman we become. So what shall one do? As none of the things outside of me are going to help, including all the gods, then it becomes obvious that I alone have to understand myself. I have to see myself and change myself radically, Then goodness comes out of that. Then one can create a good society.

-This Light in Oneself

How Long?

Several years ago I used to work at a corporation that specialized in counseling for corporate types. I came by this receptionist job through a temp agency which ironically was in a building just a block or so from where I work now.

I worked as a receptionist there, doing data entry, answering calls and all that clerical stuff under the direct supervision of a woman who wore fur coats, had glass nails and ate sushi for lunch. The president of the company was an asshole who always had a cigar stuck in his face and was named Bob Levy.

Working with me as the full time office assistant was a woman of color (I believe she was West Indian but I do not remember the exact island of origin) who all but ran that place single-handed and sometimes with her little son behind the desk with us.

There was one particular day when I brought Mr. Levy a written message which he found illegible (I admit my hand writing sucks) and became furious at me cursing inappropriately or at least I found it inappropriate to be cursed at over a badly taken phone message. Young, and inexperienced at ass-kissing (I still suck at it)I gave him the cold shoulder for a while which was all I could do to stand up for myself.I may be kidding myself bit I believe he felt it. I was highly offended. Up until then, I had never been spoken to in this way before by anyone.

I remember relaying these events to the maverick female office assistant who incidentally told me see used to eat her lunch in a phone booth. I'll never for get what she said to me.
She said, "Do you want to be treated like a nigger?" I forget exactly what came after that statement but I feel it had something to with instructing me on ways on which to avoid being treated this way and how to learn from he experience, since, as she impressed upon me, I would surely be treated this way if I did not take certain precautions. I was so shocked that she had become accustomed to such conditions that I probably made up my mind then and there that I would not be staying on. I left that job to work full time at City College a few months later.
Now, in my present position with CUNY it has begun to occur to me that I am still struggling against being treated like a nigger but in much subtler and more dangerous forms. And the fucked up thing is I learned about this process here at this institute in classes about Poverty and Affluence, Urban Cultural Diversity and Race Class and Gender in America! And whenever I think about escaping to someplace "better", more "civilized" to work with mature people, I realize that I am fantasizing possibly about someplace that does not exist Because, some form of tyranny and racial prejudice will exist no matter where I work and for whom. And I feel trapped.

I know what the truth is. I don't feel crazy or misunderstood. I just feel powerless. And my facade is cracking. I've never known this part of myself before, this angry, frustrated, violent, stuck person and I feel myself behaving in ways I resent, often towards those I care about most, those who don't deserve it because I feel powerless to rage against those who are blindly going about bulldozing their bullshit agendas over those who they perceive as compliant. But I don't know how much longer I can go on doing that.

What I fear the most is really and truly losing it. I would like to be smart. I would like to not give in to that rage. But that seems so much like not doing anything at all. Like checking out. I'm not ready to do that yet. But what am I ready to do? I don't know.

Lensbaby Cometh

Apparently, I will have a lensbaby long before I have a real baby. Lensbaby is a set of three dynamic lens attachments for the digital camera that allow the photographer to create all sorts of beautiful, unique effects! My dad just emailed the info to me on the B&H Camera website. I am sooooo excited!! This could really move my look of work in totally new direction! I love camera tricks, and focal isolation and blur enhancements! OH!!! I want it now. I won't go into too much detail. I'll just show you what I come up with when I get the lenses.

There are three different kinds, The Composer, The Muse and The Control Freak. Each one gives a different effect when attached to the camera body as a lens and each lens has additional attachments, which enhance their effects even further like the Lensbaby creative aperture kit! Omigod, I can't even explain how fucking amazing this is.

In other news, I'm constantly on flickr, posting pictures, commenting on pictures, responding to comments on pictures, contacts and generally talking to people I've never met about photography, technique and Blythe doll obsession. Recently I was looking at the profile of a young lady, age eighteen who spends as much money as I do on impractical photo props. I like reading people's flickr profiles. Sometimes they are very insightful and will tell you little bit more about what they like about taking pictures and how it relates to their lives. Hers was very short and simple and frankly included way too much mention of unicorns and bubbles for my taste but in the last sentence, she says "Basically, when I'm alone, I'm off in my own little world." That one sentence described me totally when I was a little girl and frankly, still describes me now.

When I'm alone, I slip easily into my own little world and to be honest that little world is pretty big. It's why I need so much alone time. I've never really felt alone when I'm alone which may be interpreted as crazy in some circles and dysfunctional behavior for a child. My mom always worried that I preferred to play by myself and not with other kids. But I wasn't lonely. Get me? And I can never really explain how that works. I just know I'm not "alone" in that feeling. I think many of the women I've connected with on flickr are like this and that photography allows us to sort of bring back artifacts from that inner world in a creative, inspiring and functional way. It's not something I've ever really thought about as weird until recently, mostly because it was never discouraged in me but as I get older I find that I have to consciously juggle the act of being a "public me" with the "real me" which is just slightly more complex. It makes me wonder if what is more easily accepted is more "normal." But when I see what the majority of people define as "normal" it often seems like what I define as crazy, so I just embrace what makes me me feel good and the company of people who allow me to be "myself" and go with that. And when all else fails I just go off by myself into my own little world.

Paul and Joanne

"Acclaim is the false aspect of the job, which screws you up. You start to need it, like a drug, and in the final analysis, what does it all mean? I won my Academy Award when I was very young. Sitting in bed afterward, and drinking my Ovaltine, I said to Paul, 'Is that it?' Suddenly I became 'acceptable,' and I felt that I was being 'acceptable' on a very false level which had nothing to do with me per se, or whether someone liked me, but only because I became an asset, in a certain respect, that I hadn't been previously. A property."

Paul Newman, A Life
Pg136,137

3:35pm

3:35pm
Originally uploaded by TheWanderingEye

I've stared a second Flickr account under the name ThWanderingEye for my strictly non-Blythe Doll photos. It seems that Blythe has for now consumed my primary Flickr account at Zanalee and though I love her dearly, I still need very much to focus on my non-doll photography skills and to receive serious feedback on it from flickr members who don't see me as just another Blythe fan. So visit me at TheWanderingEye if you get a chance. I promise, there will not be a doll in sight.

: )

Dark Globe

Once upon a time before the internet I used to listen to the radio and I lived inside all these corny pathos filled, R&B Pop songs on top ten count downs and call in dedications and I cherished them all. And once upon a time there was once a magazine called Sassy, a magazine that spoke to the adolescent in me about things I was really concerned about, like visiting the gynecologist for the first time, birth control, candid interviews with artists I respected or had never heard of and fashion spreads with females who did not look like they had eating disorders.

In one particular issue there was a weird floppy pullout thing, which I discovered was a vinyl album which was somehow inside the pages. The album was a single by a band called REM, which I had never heard of. I figured out a way to play it on my father’s record player and heard this strange high sweet voice, which I think thought belonged to a man. It was a very short song and it left me with an odd feeling I had never experienced from hearing a song before. What was it about? Who was that singing? I played it several times never really sure if I liked. I knew somehow that this type of music was beyond my rock/RB/Pop aesthetic at the time but the sad sweetness of that feeling; I never forgot it and I never forgot the floppy record it was delivered on.
Years later I became a REM fan but could never recall that song or recover that album. But tonight, on the Sassy Facebook Fanpage, someone who has that exact album posted a live performance of Michael Stipe and REM singing that song: Dark Globe which is actually the cover of a the original song by Syd Barret.

Will my mind ever be so un-muddled again as it was when I sat as a new teenager and listened to that odd song? I still remembered the lyrics. How can something you haven’t heard in almost 18 years still be inside you, like something waiting to be found again, never leaving?

“Oh where are you now
Pussy willow that smiled on this leaf?
When I was alone you promised the stone from your heart
My head kissed the ground
I was half the way down, treading the sand
Please, please, lift a hand
I'm only a person whose armbands beat
On his hands, hang tall
Won't you miss me?
Wouldn't you miss me at all?

The poppy birds way
Swing twigs coffee brands around
Brandish her wand with a feathery tongue
My head kissed the ground
I was half the way down, treading the sand
Please, please, please lift the hand
I'm only a person with Eskimo chain
I tattooed my brain all the way...
Won't you miss me?
Wouldn't you miss me at all?”

I didn't know they still made good music videos

Francis showed me these two on his ipod while we rode the train downtown to go see "Couples Retreat." To my surprise I loved them both.

Click air link.
Air
I'd like to live in this video for about five minutes every week or so.


Madonna Celebration

Ummm...she's 50. HOOOOT!!!

One of these things is not like the others.

One of these things is not like the others.
Originally uploaded by zanalee

My heart was beating so fast when I pseudo-wandered up to the counter as nonchalantly as possible. I looked at the menu hanging above me. I looked at the sign in the picture above. Yes, it has returned. I don't even want to talk too much about it. I just sat thankfully and enjoyed 20 of minutes of frozen black sesame bliss, which made me about a half hour late for a Dr's appointment but I just called and told them I was running late. I was on a really important date.

I could have cried, I was so happy.
EEEEEEeeeeee!
LOL!

Looking Back at Black Sesame Frappuccino

I've had a little time to get over the discontinuation of one of my favorite drinks so I decided to google it for some nostalgic reviews. This one is from yelp.com

The black sesame frappuccino is like an icecream shake. It is heavy, even after a couple of sips, but heavenly. Very addictive.

I will find you again....

You

these jokes of humanity
these punchline personifications,
wasted on entitlement
and glorified station.
clogging up the works
with ill administration.
they cannot perform successfully
without your elimination.

-ZG

I would not last a Day on Survivor

I would not last a Day on survivor
Originally uploaded by zanalee

An unidentified critter ran into a corner in my apartment yesterday while I was on the phone with my dad. I shrieked and totally flipped out. My poor dad. He told me to calm down and go get glue traps. All I knew was I had to get out of the apt. So I ran out, called my fiancee to come check the place and kind of hovered near this abandoned yard across the street checking out this stray cat. Maybe if I had a cat this wouldn't be happening.

Yashira Sanjur

Yashira Sanjur
Originally uploaded by zanalee

Some really amazing fan art from the Official True Blood Facebook Fan page. I uploaded my favorites to a set on my flickr account. Click on Eric to see the rest.

They Always Discontinue the Ones I Love

Black sesame frappe
Originally uploaded by zanalee

The worst has happened. The Black Sesame Frappuccino once served at Cafe Zayas in Kinokuniya Bookstore on 6th Ave, which has given me more pleasure than I am able to put into words has been discontinued. I found out today from one of the wait staff today and was devastated. This always happens to me. Always. I know it's just food but I have a very sentimental connection to food I love that makes me feel this good. I can't even bare to think that I will never have the opportunity to feel this way again. Oh my heart. Nothing can ever replace you. : (

Spinning Time

After he was done spinning he veered over to the right and into Cafe Duke. I am not kidding. Perhaps for the salad bar?

Case Closed

All my visions of courtroom drama, "Night Court," "The Practice," "Twelve Angry Men" and such were dashed today when the eight of us jurors were taken to a jurors room and then to a court to sit in the jurors box only to be told that the civil case being tried (really a very basic case of injury in a subway station) had already been settled without us. We were thanked very generously by the female judge for our time and told that this would not have been possible if we had not shown up. I think most of us were just glad to be getting out so soon. I was looking forward to a little court drama once we were in those seats but I had no complaints about leaving early. On our way down the staircase I asked the defense lawyer how the case for the defendant was settled. Apparently his client was only modestly compensated due to being unable to solidly prove the guilt of the plaintiff (MTA).

As we emerged from 80 Centre Street and descended the steps he handed us his card. "You never know when you're gonna need a lawyer." he said.

We got in at 11:00am and were out by 11:45. I could have gone to work but why on earth would I have done that?

Why I Do This

On flickr I am a member of exactly seventy seven photography groups. Because my interests in photography are so vast I like to be updated on various kinds of photographic projects and discussions. About twelve of these groups are for photographers of the Blythe Doll. There's one called "Save Polaroid," a group only for pictures of green things, "Food Porn," graffiti, one for black and white Photos only,one called "The Jump Project" which is just pictures of people jumping. I really need to start on my jump photos, but I find that adults don't jump as readily as children and I think that's why it's taken me so long to get started.

What happens in a flickr photo group is that the moderator controls the flow of content that is added by members each day and creates rules for submission and discussion. You get to share your work and look at others, comment on work and receive feedback, advice or whatever you might be curious about. You also get a running update whenever someone in your group posts something new. It's a dream for me. I sometimes get so preoccupied with browsing someone's photo stream on flickr for hours. I may log on looking for one thing and get pulled in a totally random direction into a whole other world I had not intended to explore. Seeing other people's work and responding to their feedback is what inspires me to do more.

Recently I read a discussion thread on flickr in my "Arms Length Self Portrait Experience Group" under the subject heading "Why We Do this." A woman doing a self portrait project wanted to see if there was a pattern behind the reasoning for this particular type of photography. Sixty-one people responded with some really interesting answers. I replied with my answer first before I read them all. The following responses were my favorite.

Anonymous
I don't see myself in the mirror, I don't know who I am, so it's always a surprise when I take a picture and look at myself in a different context. I look at pictures of other people all day, every day, always analyzing, so when I see a picture of myself it constantly baffles me. I guess it's a little bit cruel to myself, but occasionally I like what I see and that's when it's fun.

Anonymous2
I think it's weird that people take photos of other people, but don't put as much value as taking photos of yourself. You're just as important as the people you're taking photos of. It doesn't matter if you like photos of yourself or not-- chances are, someone (kids, grandkids, relatives, friends) might wish they had more photos of you someday.

Anonymous3
I have always hated to have my picture taken, even more so now that I am older and have gained weight. I finally decided to take control of the situation and photograph myself. It was a therapeutic undertaking. If I was to title my portrait I would call it "essence"; as I see it as the essence of myself. It is who I see in the mirror, but not who I see in the photographs taken of me up until this point. This sounds terribly narcissistic, but it is actually a rediscovery of myself, after years of neglect.

Anonymous4
I like to see me from a different point of view. It is like when you hear a record of your voice and you say "hey, thats not me!!", but all other people recognize you.
Pictures remind me the world sees me in a different way than I do.

Anonymous5
Because none of my friends are able to capture me the way I want to be captured. If it sounds selfish, well... aren't we all?
And it's always fun to see how different your mirror-image compared to your camera-image can be!


Anonymous6
For me it is a way to express, catalog/contain, and reflect on some of the infinite faces/emotions/personas that float across the surface of my being continuously. it's like stopping time, or the process of living, and being able to hold on to something so complex and mysterious on a scrap of paper or a computer screen... somehow that helps me understand just what it is i am experiencing.

also, i have a rotten memory.

and, though i have figured little in my life out by this point, i feel the
most "in" my body and life that i have ever been. i feel beautiful and challenged, and i want to be able to look back on how i made it through all this difficult and wonderous life stuff, and be able to share it with those i love, and perhaps beyond them with the larger world, which is currently so entrenched in the struggle.

i want to be a light in the darkness, but first i have to find my own path and turn on all the lights!

(this was written b4 coffee and is full of the beginning of thoughts)

My response was:

I think self portraits are a scary, challenging and honest way to take a look at yourself, both aesthetically and emotionally. Personally I only really like pictures of myself taken by me because I know what I want to see or am trying to capture. Other times, things come up that I have no control over, that I didn't even know were there. I find these things fascinating sometimes. They can also be a lot of fun on occasion.

Laid out like tar

So I threw my back out just existing this week and I called out sick from work yesterday to try a series of different things to treat it. I went to get acupuncture in Chinatown, but surprisingly that didn't seem to change much. I wandered around Soho with my camera and took some pictures just to take my mind off the pain for a bit.

I idled into Babeland, (that's a sex toy shop for you prudes out there) for the first time. I was only aware of the one near Orchard Street and had never known this one existed. Apparently, they've been at this location for six years. It's a really nice, large space and the sales women were really nice. They were playing Le Tigre which was great and I just casually made my way down the aisle looking at shelves and shelves of scarily efficient self pleasure toys.

I saw the Hello Kitty vibrator live for the first time. I'd always heard about it. It's adorable of course and also comes in black as well as pink. The further down I got, the more graphic and impressive it was. While I was there about two or three couples wandered in as well. I never once felt self conscious or shy about it. I remember years ago when Tower Records was still open how weird it was that they had the Adult video section embedded with the rest of the DVDs. I would feel kind of awkward for the men who would be browsing those videos while the rest of us were glancing at them with judgment from the Comedy and Romance sections. I guess when it comes to sex in a pseudo puritanical, hypocritical and perverted society like ours, access has a lot to do with demand, atmosphere and intent.

When I got home I applied a self heating pad to my back and watched Lord of The Rings with Francis after doing some doll crafting in my room. Then I soaked in a tub of hot water and Epsom salt for an hour or so. After all this I just felt more tender and sensitive and could barely move without feeling the sharp pain in the center of my shoulder blades. I went to bed but couldn't sleep. I ended up propping myself against the wall on my bed and staring out the window at the men laying tarmac on my street. They stripped it the day before. They always start around eight or so and carry on through the night while people are trying to sleep but it really doesn't bother me much. When the tarmac truck rolled by, I could feel the whole building vibrate. I watched the men shoveling and smoothing out the surface, the steam rising from it. One of the workers was on his cell phone standing there on the tarmac and it made me think of how no one pays full attention to what they're doing anymore, including me. Technology has created so many different, petty things to distract ourselves from what's actually happening from what we're doing in the moment. Before cell phones, before technology, there was more of an opportunity to be present. The article I read in the Onion on the train ride home about the Nadir of Western Civilization being reached on Friday rings scarily true to me. The Onion may be a satire paper but it's based primarily on some really fucked up realities that we all can relate to.

Sitting there last night trying not to move or aggravate the sharp pain in my back. looking at the illuminated yellow light coming from the beastly tarmac vehicle was kind of peaceful. I haven't taken much time to be still and present for a long time myself. Maybe that's why this happened it me. But I still want it to go away.

Bob on Broadway and Natural Hair Care Tips

A really nice young lady spray painting a Bob Dylan stencil onto a t-shirt for me on Broadway in Soho yesterday. She works for www.oldschoolnyc.com

Not only did she make this cool t-shirt for me for twenty bucks. We also chatted about our natural hair care regimens and she recommended four online links for me to visit which she jotted down on the back of her business card.

-longhaircareforum.com
-newlynatural.com
-curlynikki.com
-naturallycurly.com

So the Israelites take over of Prince Street didn't completely ruin my day. : )

R.I.P. Patrick Swayze

Testing mobile blogger.

More Brian Eno

I was so knocked out by that reference to the Wired interview in Ritchin's book that I found the entire article on line. It's pretty amazing. The following jumped out and grabbed me and said "Hi, don't I know you?" : )

Africa is everything that something like classical music isn't. Classical - perhaps I should say "orchestral" - music is so digital, so cut up, rhythmically, pitchwise and in terms of the roles of the musicians. It's all in little boxes. The reason you get child prodigies in chess, arithmetic, and classical composition is that they are all worlds of discontinuous, parceled-up possibilities. And the fact that orchestras play the same thing over and over bothers me. Classical music is music without Africa. It represents old-fashioned hierarchical structures, ranking, all the levels of control. Orchestral music represents everything I don't want from the Renaissance: extremely slow feedback loops.

If you're a composer writing that kind of music, you don't get to hear what your work sounds like for several years. Thus, the orchestral composer is open to all the problems and conceits of the architect, liable to be trapped in a form that is inherently nonimprovisational, nonempirical. I shouldn't be so absurdly doctrinaire, but I have to say that I wouldn't give a rat's ass if I never heard another piece of such music. It provides almost nothing useful for me.

But what is tremendously exciting to me is the collision of vernacular Western music with African music. So much that I love about music comes from that collision. African music underlies practically everything I do - even ambient, since it arose directly out of wanting to see what happened if you "unlocked" the sounds in a piece of music, gave them their freedom, and didn't tie them all to the same clock. That kind of free float - these peculiar mixtures of independence and interdependence, and the oscillation between them - is a characteristic of West African drumming patterns. I want to go into the future to see this sensibility I find in African culture, to see it freed from the catastrophic situation that Africa's in at the moment. I don't know how they're going to get freed from that, but I desperately want to see this next stage when African culture begins once again to strongly impact ours.

"Gossip is Philosophy"
-Wired Magazine

After Photography in the morning

Woke up this morning thinking about how I will be framing my presentation for a Faculty Conversation Series I'm doing at my job this November on my photography. Once this happens I can't sleep anymore because too many ideas start streaming in. I got up and found my Ben Long book, "Complete Digital Photography" and "After Photography" by Fred Ritchin.

I have been reading "After Photography" on and off since last fall. It is part photography critique, part revelation, and an incredibly important voice that helps me to understand the far reaching hand of the digital age passed our reality, passed our death? Ritchin, in one of the last chapters I read this morning entitled "Of Synthetics and Cyborgs," refers to an interview with Brian Eno, musician and multimedia artist, with Wired Magazine.

If I could give you a black box that could do anything, what would you have it do?

I would love to have a box onto which I could offload choice making. A thing that makes choices about its outputs, and says to itself, This is a good output, reinforce that, or replay it, or feed it back in. I would love to have this machine stand for me. I could program this box to be my particular taste and interest in things.

Why do you want to do that? You have you.

Yes, I have me. But I want to be able to sell systems for making my music as well as selling pieces of music. In the future, you won't buy artists' works; you'll buy software that makes original pieces of "their" works, or that recreates their way of looking at things. You could buy a Shostakovich box, or you could buy a Brahms box. You might want some Shostakovich slow-movement-like music to be generated. So then you use that box. Or you could buy a Brian Eno box. So then I would need to put in this box a device that represents my taste for choosing pieces.

I guess the only thing weirder than hearing your own music being broadcast on the radios of strangers is hearing music that you might have written being broadcast!

Yes, music that I might have written but didn't!

Will you still like the idea of these surrogate Brian Enos when they start generating your best work?

Sure! Naturally, it's a modifiable box, you know. Say you like Brahms and Brian Eno. You could get the two of them to collaborate on something, see what happens if you allow them to hybridize. The possibilities for this are fabulous.

What's left for us to do then?

Cheat. And lie.

Stuff like this makes my mouth hang open. Let your passes on loved ones live on in your heart. Brian Eno will live on literally through you. Creepy and amazing. I haven't even put my pants on yet.

Gadget Eternity

Oh, I mean Samsung Eternity. Francis was sweet enough to buy me a new phone today. He just upgraded to a Verizon LG touch screen himself (at my suggestion) last week. So in classic Fran and Zen corniness, we now both own two phones in clear plastic cases that look way too much alike. And I don't even do cases. I just got one to be on the safe side. UGH! I think most cell phones are just too bulky anyway without a case to go along with it. I loved my svelte little silver Sony Ericson phone but using the number keypad to text was driving me mad, I mean like violently mad. And I mean isn't that a sick reason to buy a new phone, especially since I don't even text that much!

But yes, I am paying an extra 20 bucks or so for this wondrous privilege in addition to the option of twittering, updating my Facebook status and receiving email from wherever the hell I am. I just wanted the least ugly phone possible and the cheapest plan I could get. So hurrah? I will now be broker than ever.

But on the bright side, now I can pretend to flip through my calendar and memo or something important during staff meetings when really I'm just decorating my Superpoke Pet Habitat.
LMAO!!!

Next gadget: Flip Mino Camcorder



Thanks Amanda, now I'm fuckin hooked.

Postal

My empty mailbox was so empty this evening. Not even an advertisement for a gym I already belong to. Not even mail for the previous tenant who’s been gone for three years. Not even a flyer from Dominoes. Nothing. Not like my mailbox has never been empty before. But tonight it looks almost like it’s been washed and wiped out. I would have gone back down to take a picture, but today was too tiring. My own anger has wiped me out. Maybe I was projecting on the mailbox.

Last Stand

First off, this will be the last time I mention True Blood in my blog. I mean how pathetic right? It's a television show. But the thing is I don't really watch television. This is the only show I watch every single week without fail so it's pretty special to me. And that seems to be the case for me with all of Alan Ball's shows.

When Godric dies, the allusions to The Crucifixion are pretty obvious but the fact that he is a thousand year old vampire is all about Alan Ball's obsession with death, immortality and the endless questions that surround the meaning of life.

With Eric as his brother, father, son, there are also strong allusions to the intense bond between Jesus and Judas, and a clearly homo-erotic subtext.

And as for Sookie, if there was ever a moment to fall for someone who she believed was cold, conniving, blood thirsty and ruthless, this was it. Personally I was quite moved by the entire scene on the roof and am constantly amazed at Ball's ability to take the corny campiness of supernatural lore and make it so translatable.

"I Will RIse Up"

It's been while since I wrote anything about True Blood. I really had no idea that it was going to get this good. I mean the first season was like a guilty pleasure but in my experience Alan Ball has never produced anything for mere entertainment. I have trusted him ever since "American Beauty" and after he did "Six Feet Under" for HBO I watched anything with his name on it. For me, "Six Feet Under" was the series to end all series. Until now, "True Blood" has merely been skirting the edge of depth, with sex and gore and violence, and no shortage of commentary on inequality, prejudice, and injustice. But this weekend's episode, "I will rise up" has raised the bar several feet.
I watched the last 15 minutes or so of it speechlessly. I wish I could post the last few minutes here but there is no way HBO would ever let youtube get a hold of that. And yet I do manage to watch it online every week illegally. Sometimes, it just feels better that way.

HOLY SHIT! I NEED TO FELT!

I was at the "Fashioning Felt" Exhibit at the Cooper Hewitt Design Museum today with my cousin Elsie and I was totally blown away not only by the felting process but how freaking DIY friendly it is and how personal a felt piece can be, especially as a garment because it can only ever fit the person for whom it was designed on. You have to got to the site to watch this process! I am Googling for raw wool as I write this! It really makes sense why it's so expensive, since so much work goes into making it. But the results are this gorgeous, sturdy, soft, multi-purpose, eco-friendly fabric that's not like any other fabric because it's not woven, or sewn but fused together by water and friction! It's incredible! I just need to figure who they fashion the actual garments after they make the material. Strangely enough, that was the only process that was not demonstrated.

But...uh, I will be delving into that straight away.

Nervous Conditions

"Freed from the constraints of the necessary and the squalid that defined and delimited our activity at home, I invested a lot of robust energy in approximating to my idea of a young woman of the world. I was clean now, not only on special occasions but every day of the week. I was meeting, outside myself, many things that I had known existed in other worlds although the knowledge was vague; things that had made my mother wonder whether I was quite myself, or whether I was carrying some other presence in me.

It was good to be validated in this way. Most of it did not come from the lessons they taught at school but from Nyasha's various and extensive library. I read everything from Enid Blyton to the Bronte sisters, and responded to them all. Plunging into these books I knew I was being educated and I was filled with gratitude to the authors for introducing me to places where reason and inclination were not at odds. It was a centripetal time, with me at the center, everything gravitating towards me. It was a time of sublimation with me as the sublimate."
-"Nervous Conditions"
by Tsitsi Dangeremba

This is one of my favorite passages from the book so far. I've been engrossed in it for the last few days. I've had it since the end of Fall and most of the summer. One of my Professors lent it to me. Shame on me for picking it up from the head of my bed for the first time only last week. It's brilliant. I'm sort of wary of giving book reviews but if you're interested you can view the description of it here. I just really like the way the passage above attributes the education of someones being to having been opened up by books because in many ways I came of age with my face in books as well.

A Hair Story

Friday morning I went to get my hair cut by Ketlie a student at the John Atchison Salon on Madison Ave. My relationship with my hair in its natural state has been very unbalanced. I have had a hell of a time finding any current or stable resources for exactly how to take care of African American hair that is not processed,relaxed or in a weave.

The woman who gave me the card for J.A. referred me because she had a short natural like my own. I was flattered that she would dig around in her bag for me and really liked the shape of her natural cut so I called to make an appointment right away. Plus, it was free and I’ve needed a trim for a while now since my go to Barber Shop, West African Barbers, closed months ago.

Ketlie at the John Athchison Salon


Since this was a student cut, it took a few hours and was done very thoroughly because it had to be monitored by John Atkinson himself, a tall older African American man who did the hair of at least two other older women while Ketlie was cutting my hair.

I have to be honest, as long as I’ve had my hair short; I still get really nervous when I go for a trim. I get scared that I’m going to have to start all over again. It’s like so many things about myself I need to maintain. Taking care of yourself is not easy, and I feel as if the diagnosis of my hair is always the same: damaged. It’s dry, there’s breakage, and I need to deep condition more often. I feel like I’ve done all these things to no avail but perhaps I haven’t been patient enough with myself. Washing my face and moisturizing every night is really paying off. Perhaps the hair regimen Ketlie recommended for me will pan out as well.

My Latest Shape
Since it took literally hours to have my hair done, shampoo and conditioning included, I picked up a magazine at some point and wouldn’t you know I stumbled upon an article written by a white woman who cut her hair really short as well?

She said her boyfriend was pretty clear that he didn’t like it and although they broke up they are still good friends. It was clear that this bothered her but also that she wasn’t willing to change her hair for him. Every once in a while I would look up into the station mirror watching as my hair got shorter and shorter. I told myself, this is me. Why am I so afraid to see myself?

Ketlie told me that she was getting ready to cut all her hair off as well, that she’d been growing out her processed hair in preparation. She said she really liked the look and thought it was very feminine. I thought it made me look a little bit like Max Headroom or Grace Jones but instead of being pessimistic I decided to indulge in her genuine enthusiasm. I really trusted her and I could tell that she knew what she was doing. When she was done, she gave me a list of all the things she had recommended I use.


Fortunately, having had short hair for a few years now, I no longer go into shock over getting a haircut. I realize that it is something others have to adjust to but for me it’s just a slight change. Ketlie asked me what my fiancée thought and I told her he was very open minded and thought it was cute when I cut my hair. I realize that I get a lot of my hair confidence from him. I honestly think I’d be a wreck if I were with some guy who associated femininity with long flowing locks only. Because of Francis, this part of my self-image is greatly altered. He really only wants me, not some idea of me. I can’t tell you how liberating that it, how rare. I still struggle with a lot of aspects of how I look and feel, to almost a crippling degree at times but being with someone who accepts so much of me gives me the idea that all of that struggle is a waste of time.

Taking care for ourselves through exercise, eating right, getting fresh air and bathing frequently is a basic requirement but for women so much of the extra maintenance of “beauty” can be a slow ride to insanity because it is based in so much illusion. Knowing that, however, doesn’t always make it any easier to deal with.

A Doll Story

Me and Baby Checkers

Last night on the drive upstate to Fran’s place in Rockland County, the names of all my old dolls started to stream back into my memory. They are long gone; mostly because of the house fire we had in the Bronx years ago. I could have kept them but there were a lot and I was just so messed up over the whole disaster that it felt foolish at the time to try and keep them. My Barbies, baby dolls, Cabbage Patches all went in the dumpster. I can’t even imagine what I would have done with them all if I’d kept them. I think it was for the best. But I guess what’s gotten me started thinking about it is my present obsession with Blythe dolls and just dolls in general, what they mean and how they influence our development racially, emotionally, socially.

Thinking about my dolls’ names made me realize that my mom may have been a bit of a doll collector in her mature years as well. One of my first dolls that I received from her for Christmas was a black doll in a wedding dress. Her name was Isis. That was what we called her although I realize now that I didn’t give her this name. That was all my mom and the influence of her interest and studies of ancient Egyptian history.
There was another black baby doll I had that I loved. She was all plastic and had a speaker in her chest so I imagined she actually spoke at some point but I certainly don’t remember when. I called her Checkers. No mystery there. I just liked the word Checkers.

Denanda was another black baby doll I loved, with a soft stuffed body with plastic arms, legs and head and eyes that closed when she was prone. Mom and I named her mutually, after a Buddhist chant my mother taught me as a girl. We used to sing it together like a song. Ananda means bliss. The chant is a sort of Buddhist meditation about God and following your own conscience.

Om tat sat sit chit ananda

It means absolute Consciousness, absolute Existence, absolute Bliss.

Mom also made me a doll out of brown velvet with no facial features. My brother and I called her Brown Baby. She had real hair on her head, though I forget whose hair it was. We cast her as the hero of countless doll adventures.

When I think about this stuff now, I realize that much of my self-esteem, self-image and curiosity about other cultures was grounded unconsciously by the way in which my mom integrated her own multicultural interests in the naming of my dolls. Somehow, the diversity in their names (They had traditional Western names like Mandy, Judy and Eve as well) informed my easy acceptance of differences on a wider scale. Somehow, even as a girl I knew that the way people played with dolls was very telling about deeper aspects of their personalities, home life, learned preference and future development. So much can be learned about people from the way in which they play, not just dolls but toys in general. As we get older, toys may change take on various new definitions, but for me, a lack of play is a lack of life. I had so much fun playing as a girl and I have never really stopped.

New Old Polaroid Spectra

A camera recommended by one of my classmates at ICP. Polaroid film is no longer manufactured so I ordered mine on ebay. It should be arriving next week. Yea!

At The Mercy of Walgreens

I don't think that there has been one day since I started taking "Regarding Intimacy" that I haven't been stressed out about getting my photos processed at some drugstore in time to bring to class. The thing is I rarely make prints because all the pictures I take usually stay digital, go up on flickr or facebook or sent through email but hardly ever framed. And who ever heard of a photo album these days? But I really prefer to present prints in class. Although we have the option to present our work digitally as well on the department's projector and many students do, I prefer mounting prints on the magnetic wall. It gives the viewer a more controlled sense of perception. Being able to go back and forth looking at the work feels more organic and tactile to me. The class also seems to be able to make conclusions, draw relationships and generally edit things out better when the work is in front of them and able to be moved around.

Walgreens has become my official photo processor for two main reasons
1. They're open 24 hours (yes!)
2. You can choose white borders for your prints

I learned a week or so ago to my utter dismay that the Duane Reades or CVS drugstores in Harlem where I live either don't have the white border option for prints smaller than 5x7 or they don't have the white border option at all. They have crappy holiday and special occasion borders but no white borders. I just don't get it and if I try my head starts to hurt. So I stick the Walgreens of Times Square just minutes from where I work. But they have their own issues as well, mostly having to do with the service people never being able to confirm that the estimated "promise time" will actually be the time your prints will be done. I have to say though, that they're usually done in the estimated time. I just get really nervous either way because I like to be prepared for class and I really enjoy and crave the feedback.

A classic white border can make just about any picture look like something more than it is. Any expert can tell when there is real intent behind any photograph but for me the white border is a total must. A white border provides a consistent aesthetic to a series of pictures whose subject matter may be a little disconnected or enhance the aesthetic for a set pictures that that do have a clear connection.So in instances where I thought I might not be able to get that white border I felt berserk.

Art Risk

Believe it or not "Regarding Intimacy" is almost over. Next week will be our last. I'm only just beginning to understand what it means to work as a photographer with an actual project in mind, especially with such revelatory subject matter as initimacy.

Last night Jen Davis was one of our guest speakers. Her work spanned a year or more of self portrait work which deal with many of her own personal struggles with her weight and sexuality and the occasional isolation of her emotional and physical person as a result of this.

Having her talk to us about her process as she presented each image really drew me closer to the meaning of each one, gave the pictures an even deeper relevance and a beauty for me. There was vulnerability yes, but also such apparent strength, courage and a sense of control over her apparent fears and insecurities. She really knows what she wants to convey and goes deeply into the heart of the condition. She risks a lot, often it seems, not always knowing what may come of it.

After class I told her how courageous I felt her work was especially since, being a woman, I am constantly trying to hide or mask my own imperfections and ugliness most of which I understand as such through what I learn from messages from society and the media. It's exhausting but fear keeps it pumping along. Self portrait photography I have begun to realize is quite therapeutic. I used to do it a lot in college with no clue what I was really trying to get at but I have always had a fascination with the psychology of photography and the apparent nakedness of the photograph, what it tells not only as an image but also about the person behind the camera.

I'm not sure I'm brave enough at this time to go as far as Jen has but I hope to one day. I think once you begin to peel away the layers of your pretense in any way, there's no real turning back. It may not be pretty, but for me the most evocative art reexamines ideas of beauty and normalcy takes it apart and understands that the uncompromising search for truth and acceptance is all there really is.

Polaroid Spectra 1200

I was bidding on this camera at work, just before class, during the ten minute class break. I couldn't relax until I won it.
SWEEEEET!

I did give up on Polaroid for awhile. The old SX70 was a big disappointment but I still love having around because just looks so cool, almost like a land camera. But one of my classmates at ICP uses a really cool looking Polaroid Spectra and she gets these great exposures plus she has a back stock of film (Polaroid no longer makes film) and shes willing to part with some if it. I need to make her an offer.

ICP Update

So, for my fourth session in Regarding Intimacy (I missed the third because I was in San Francisco) we had two guest speakers. I should mention that during my Cooper Union photo class one on one critique with my teacher Marget Long, I had what could have been a terribly awkward moment wherein she told me she kinda freaked when one of her colleagues mentioned that they found a blog where her and her class was mentioned. That blog was none other than my own. Not that I think Saul would mind me blogging about the class but I would rather not sensor myself on that count thinking I may have to discuss my blog entries about class in class. Suffice it to say, we have dealt with some very controversial, touchy subject matter in this class in a very open, humorous and sensitive way, which is a classroom setting I deeply appreciate and miss.

As for my own work, I really am loosening up more and getting more comfortable talking about and having my own work critiqued, by two professional guest speakers this evening no less. The picture above will link to the set I showed this evening when you click on it. Just click on "Regarding Intimacy" on the right to see the rest.

I shot so many hundreds of pictures in San Francisco and had to, during everything else we did pull out the ones I would present to class for my developing portrait based project. For the first time in years I even did some self portraits which I think were well received. I'm really liking the idea of working with a goal and a specific theme in mind while at the same time still shooting whatever the heck I want as usual. More to come....
: )

San Francisco Cousins

I met my Cousins on my dads side (from Savannah Georgia) for the first time ever yesterday in Glen Park. My cousin Debbie who came to pick us up at the station is awesome. I knew I liked her the minute she called me on my cell while we were still in bed at the hotel at 6:00am. It was wonderful hanging out with her and talking about the family and past memories which is something I rarely do. She took us to her moms house and meet my other cousin, Stephanie and her kids briefly. They live in a huge house among those insane SF hills right across from Glen Park Canyon with the only view you could ever want.

Then we grabbed some burritos from this adorable Mexican place and drove over to her boyfriends house where we met her son, my other cousin, Brandon, a really sweet, great looking young guy. After that Debbie drove us to her other house in Antioch which just a beautiful drive out of the misty fog of SF into a warmer temperature and a clear sky. It's a house she bought just to get away and it's just a great place, big but not too big and just a really warm feeling. The three of us stayed there in her living room talking and laughing and looking at pictures until around 11:30 and then she drove us back to Vertigo. I really like her so much. Francis loves her too. We will definitely be getting together again before we leave.

Surfs Up

Surfs Up
Originally uploaded by zanalee

So in my sheer desperation for a Black Doll I picked up a Black Beach Party Barbie at Target this weekend while Francis I and I went shopping for travel sized stuff for our trip.

Can I stay focused or what? I get distracted by all nature of things unrelated to our main goal whenever we go to Target.

Anyway, Nikki is her Mattel given name but I just added Giovanni to that. Say hi to Nikki Giovanni. She is so much more anatomically correct than the Barbie I grew up with. Her feet look like real feet. Hands and fingers are more detailed and in proportion. She even has a navel impression which makes her a bit sexier. Of course she's still skinny enough to give us all self esteem issues. And that's what really counts!

Mustang Sally

Mustang Sally
Originally uploaded by zanalee

"Regarding Intimacy" gave me the stomach flips a bit. It's unnerving to have strangers have a go at your work but that's what we'll be doing every week for three hours a day, twice a week along with the occasional guest speaker.

Class make-up so far

Me-Only black woman
Predominantly female and white
One male/Asian ( I really enjoyed his work, great composition and exposures, rich color. He just finished his masters there.)
So far about seven of us in total


Saul Robbins is pretty cool though. I like his approach a lot. I like it when people can make me think about my work in different ways and make me realize things I could never come to without an intelligent outside perspective. It really allows me to understand my voice though the way I make pictures in a more definitive, less scattered way.

We all had to show our work and talk about it and then listen to critiques from the class. For me talking about my work was the hardest. Some of us had prints, others, web stuff that was projected on a white board. It was very interesting and I see that it will also be quite a challenge to hone my varied approaches down into something with a cohesive, more coherent message. I'm super excited, but also a little worried because I like to shoot so many different things in so many different ways. But I did get some ideas from my first critique so I'm gonna try to begin running with that.

In the meantime we also have a sort of free writing exercise as homework to begin to think about what best describe my images and "the project you will be working on." I'm really liking it so far. I mean I live for this.

The Week of Freedom

Zenzile completed the quiz "What does the week you were born say about you?" with the result The Week of Freedom: Gemini 1 May 25 - June 2.

You can’t stand restrictions and aim to keep your freedom at all costs. You believe there is a wrong way and a right way of doing things and will stick up for what you believe in. One of your strongest weapons is laughter or ridicule which you do not hesitate to pull out of your formidable verbal arsenal. But you are forgiving and tend to give second chances and will not quit valuable relationships easily. You are a high speed player who gets annoyed with slow responses, you are bright, perky and alert, but can come off abrasive. You tend to get stressed easily and lash out with irony or sarcasm. You have quick impulses and a fertile imagination and are constantly dreaming up new plans or schemes – but sometimes you tend to forget pressing matters such as paying the bills. In your lifetime you may leave enough unfinished projects to occupy a dozen people and not meaning to you often break promises. You are emotionally volatile and not at all shy about verbalizing your discontent in fact you can become a constant complainer. You are a loyal partner but tire of routine and often need a change of scene. You are not above emotional manipulation and turn on the charm when you want to get your way. You have a high sex appeal and few can resist your charm.

You Bit Me

True Blood Season 2 just keeps getting better and better! How is it that Alan Ball comes up with the most unexpected and creative ways to interpret common life lessons and experiences?

The scene where the chick who Bill made into a Vampire meets the young sweet guy in Merlott's bar just gave me the chills. So much happens in the space of like 3 minutes! You see her lusting after his blood then realizing that he genuinely likes then she fesses up to being a vampire by ordering True Blood when he asks her what she would like. And then when he smiles in awe instead of recoiling in anger and disgust she lights up like a bulb! I just love that! Because it implicates all that is still human in her, fear of rejection, loneliness and insecurity even though she is now immortal.

Path to the Sedona Chapel

DSC_2511
Originally uploaded by zanalee

I'm back in NYC. My ears are finally starting to unclog. I cannot wait to get out of town again! I loved how otherworldly Sedona was. And even in Glendale, despite the blazing heat, the skies were like a picture book. It was breathtaking. And being with my mom and Aunt was wonderful. I felt like a daughter again. It's good to be loved.

Dana Mik

Dana Mik
Originally uploaded by zanalee

Went to the MOMA with Dana after work this Friday. We had the best time! She is so awesome. I mean she has an entire itinerary of free things to do for the entire summer! She's all about fun and pleasure and art and eating and just feeling good!

There were some amazing exhibits. I really need to go back again.

This photograph is a direct result of out combined hedonistic insanity. She gets really excited about food and I love to eat! I mean I have given up the gym officially! F that! I like to feel good and eat good food and do things that inject me with inspiration and excitement and creativity and explode my imagination! I can get a good work out in just as easily doing something I actually care about! I'm exhausted with not feeling good enough! It's just not often that I meet people who feel the same way who actually do something about it!

Incidentally, Dana is also born the same day as me. Is that narcissistic? Well, I've never met a Gemini I liked this much. In fact, besides my mom, I have no close Gemini friends at all so it can't be narcissistic. It is an amusing coincidence though.

Yellow lilies in a bag3

Yellow lilies in a bag3
Originally uploaded by zanalee

In the rain I can smell the lilies in my bag wafting alongside me. I can smell the incense and oils from the vendor on the corner where I live and the hidden joint on the guy I just passed on my way home.
They all smell really fucking good.

Miles Davis - Kind of Blue 50th Anniversary

He saw the brilliant connection between seemingly stark differences.

Saturday in Central Park

I got up early this Saturday morning, ran some errands on Union Square and then took the green line to 86th and walked to Central Park. It was a gorgeous day and being broke lately, I just wanted to remind myself that money is not the only path to happiness. I am totally content walking through the park, snapping hundreds of pictures and just enjoying nature. This is what I wish I could do every day! When I'm here I can't believe I have to put on a costume and go to work the next day.

I walked across the park to 59th Columbus Circle which ended up being quite a work out. I had to meet a friend there though so in the end I was kind of in a hurry. I hate hurrying through the park. There was just so much to see and hear and smell and touch. I have to go on one of those boats rides before the summer is over. We should all go! So get ready! And don't let me forget!

Also I'm realizing finally that taking a picture of something and experiencing it are two completely separate events. I mean there are so many technical things that divide the subject from the viewer aesthetically, eg., colors, light and shadow are never reflected in a picture the way they are seen with the human eye. A photograph is a total recreation or rendition of real life in a square or rectangle box. We may understand this intellectually but for me, taking as many pictures as I do every week, it really does start to feel like living in two different worlds simultaneously: behind the camera and not behind the camera. This suits me just fine. I get bored very easily and duality is my favorite drug. I thrive on multiplicity. There's really just no other way for me.

When I look at the sunlight streaming through the leaves of a tree, what I'm seeing is a combination of things, both material and spiritual, projected through a collection of things that make up whoever I am at the moment. A photograph is a way of trying to capture that moment as a reminder of those things, of the feeling that is evoked in that moment, but it is not that moment. The moment itself cannot be captured. So a picture is like the shadow of a memory. Memories, which live inside us change as we change. Pictures remain the same.

But what I love about pictures, which is what I love about art in general, is that every person sees something different in every picture. No single person sees a picture in exactly the same way that another person does. Because they are viewing the picture with the collective perception of their own personal experiences, regardless of whatever perceived objectivity they believe is within their means,the resulting experience is always unique in some way depending on whomever is viewing it.

Images have the power to inform our own personal stories in different ways and so we tend to ascribe autonomous influences to some photos or pieces of art more than others. But the most affecting influence is always the one we carry around inside ourselves. And I believe that art is just a wonderful way of manifesting material evidence of that. But above all, it is a way of sharing each others thoughts and memories in hopes of feeling less isolated, staying connected and striving to create something evermore transforming and informative about the nature of existence.

We Laugh to Keep From Crying

Minutes from our last bi-weekly staff meeting.

Regarding Intimacy/ICP Summer

So I just got the receipt for the my ICP(International Center of Photography) class yesterday evening in the mail along with a cool yellow ICP student ID card which I believe gives me access the Digital/Media Lab, the library (I could be in there for hours!!) and the darkrooms. I wonder if I also get a discount at the ICP Museum gift shop?

It also came with a letter of course description from the instructor, Saul Robbins. I am so excited!!! It sounds sooo good, just exactly what I want. I wish I could post the entire letter but since there is no online version I will type a small excerpt below.

This course will introduce a wide range of approaches to investigating our most intimate relationships. Whether looking at explicit physical intimacy or more implied psychological dynamics, the investigation of relationships between others and to the self has been increasingly important and influential theme in contemporary photography. Discussions, short readings, shooting assignments, critiques, and writing exercises will direct our attention towards private and societal notions of intimacy, allowing you to begin or expand upon a new body of work in either film or digital formats.

The rest of the letter is a description of some really amazing sounding assignments which include bringing in 1-2 things that reflect your own notion of intimacy.
*SIGH*

How many people will bring in pictures of porn?

Avedon at ICP

Fridays are pay what you want at the International Center of Photography Museum so I dropped by after work today to see a collection by one of my favorite photographers, Richard Avedon.


It’s hard for me to describe pictures that I truly like, because what I’m really saying when I say I like a picture is that I like the feeling it gives me as well as the way it looks. So while I can describe the aesthetic attributes of an image it’s more difficult to try and convey that it maybe makes my chest tight or my heart beat faster or that it corresponds to a memory deep in my subconscious of something that maybe never even existed, maybe something sentimental, quiet, melancholy, joyful, or even perverse.

So there exists a true intimacy between the viewer and the photograph, no different than all the other intimacies experienced in the relationship between people and each other and art and nature. It’s one of the many things I love about photographs.
I remember seeing a program on Avedon years ago, which sparked something in me unconsciously, a new appreciation for photography I had never had before. There was some documentation of a controversial shoot he did of his dying father. As he deteriorated day by day, Avedon took a series of pictures of him.

There is something at the heart of the artist, which does not observe boundaries set down by society. It steps over the lines because it knows the truth, however frightening is there. I watched this program with some reservation but never did I feel that Avedon was immoral or even crazy. He said something at the end of the program, which has always stuck with me. He said that a photograph is "the death of the moment." It captures something, which is at once frozen and yet instantly gone. To capture does not mean to maintain. It only means to remember. Which is what photographs are essentially: commemoration, documentation, remembrance…dying. It’s beautiful.

i am no one

"It seems so impossibly difficult to be simple, to be what you are and not pretend. To be what you are is in itself very arduous without trying to become something, which is not too difficult. You can always pretend, put on a mask but to be what you are is an extremely complex affair; because you are always changing; you are never the same and each moment reveals a new facet, a new depth, a new surface. You can’t be all this at one moment for each moment brings its own change. So if you are at all intelligent, you give up being anything. You think you are very sensitive and an incident, a fleeting thought, shows that you are not; you think you are clever, well-read, artistic, moral but turn round the corner, you find you are none of these things but that you are deeply ambitious, envious, insufficient, brutal and anxious. You are all these things turn by turn and you want something to be continuous, permanent, of course only that which is profitable, pleasurable. So you run after that and all the many other yous are clamoring to have their way, to have their fulfillment…

So to be what you are is an extremely arduous affair; if you are at all awake, you know all these things and the sorrow of it all. So you drown yourself in your work, in your belief, in your fantastic ideals and meditations. By then you have become old and ready for the grave, it you are not already dead inwardly. To put away all these things, with their contradictions and increasing sorrow, and be nothing is the most natural and intelligent thing to do. But before you can be nothing, you must have unearthed all these hidden things, exposing them and so understanding them. To understand these hidden urges and compulsions, you will have to be aware of them, without choice, as with death; then in the pure act of seeing, they will wither away and you will be without sorrow and so be as nothing. To be as nothing is not a negative state; the very denial of everything you have been is the most positive action, not the positive of reactions, which is inaction; it is this inaction which causes sorrow. This denial is freedom. This positive action gives energy, and mere ideas dissipate energy. Idea is time and living in time is disintegration, sorrow."

-Jiddu Krishnamurti