My uncontrollable heart is working itself to an event. Although I was a claustrophobe as I child, I drink and smoke quite frequently. Ive grown a pair since then, and the abundance of time has a kind of drowning effect. I dont think I fear death, but then again these these things are decided when at the point where it lets you see its face smiling at you. They are all different, like kisses and fingerprints. I hope its like the French describe an orgasm; a final, little death. I was looking through a set of images I took in my old house. I was always so impressed by the quality of light in the bathroom, especially at night. I think I took way too many pictures in there trying to find that one thing. To this day, I still look through those, and its like looking through a phonebook. I know now that they ended up being the last images of that house and of that series…and of that particular being that is now in the rear-view. I know now that they were pictures of a human being who had no qualm with carrying lies, and was un-hindered by their weight. I basically photographed lies, beautiful lies. In photography, such as in life, I think that one tries to avoid seeing what you want as apposed to whats really there. This two paths cross each other many a time, like the road under a car at the wheels of some drunken fool, swerving from lane to lane. The fact that in photography the evidence exists and is there to be studied, is the only benefit. In real life exists only the wake, the shadow, the print that does not disappear until the next snow or rain or tide. Now I know that the reason i took so many pictures of this one thing, was because I had a hard time seeing something that was making a big effort in hiding or something that wasnt there. Fooey on me, fooey on me and on 12 years and my children. They say that your heart is roughly the same size as your fist. Interesting isnt it?
Ive only recently started this blog and also started seeing and reading whats out there. I’ve managed a few interesting follows, and I’ve got a few myself (my most humble apologies). Ive been thinking I need to give some shape to this formless mass of images and stray words so it wont be so tedious to digest. Im sure there’s some kind of impression created and thus a responsability on my part as well. Ive been slapping around artistic venture since my earliest youth, in fact I consider it more of an incurable ‘Tourets Syndrome’ of sorts. One of the things ive noticed is that i could probably use a higher and more comfortable seating arrangement. My “desk”; inmovable concrete legs and floor tile. Fortunately there are a few intense bloggers out there, specifically ‘Opiniated man’ and ‘Sarah Buzzkill’. OM is relentless in his blogging, makes me think of a Jack Kerouac on speed, more in the intensity than the writing style. But like the saying goes ” the drop of water pierces the stone not by its strength but by its persistence.” Im more of heavy drop kind of guy. Adjustments will be made. Another thing that I find interesting is the actual process of combining images and words. It does sound simple, and maybe it is for most people, but im having some trouble because its hard to strike a balance with these equally weightyexpressions. Especially when each one has had and has, its own life. Its like trying to combine 2 different symptoms of the same artistic disease.
Im quite aware that there are people with serious intentions with their blogs and I feel for them, in a combination of respect, envy and sadness. But sadness only the aspect that all artistist feel, wether of the camera, brush or of the pen (or keyboard in this case) its not easy for these intentions to break through the digital membrane of every fools gold, all I can say is you have no choice but to never stop. Im sure serious writers have their literary onslought on many different fronts, and this is only one.
I guess I should confess that I am the lucky recipient of the abundance of time in this last incarnation. By last incarnation im referring to the last few months of course. My respect to all of you that have work, families and are still somehow managing to create a space for their artistic voice. I have recently found myself again trying to shed my skin and up to now I can only guess what color is under the old one which is beautiful even in its disintegration. Ive always held the belief that time doesn’t take away anything from the artist, on the contrary it becomes an oak barrel in which these things arrive at their own particular flavor. Im sure there are many things im forgetting but, whats the rush, all things in time. Much love and light to all you keyboard jockeys, you keep me inspired.
Well not really…sorta. I took the picture first obviously, not thinking about much. I was sitting on the mattress on the floor, my laptop propped on a box in the small area of the room where I can get a good five bars of signal strength. The last few days I’ve been impressed with the lap-top as far as lighting is concerned. This due to the fact that it doubles as a lamp at night, (there’s no light in the room) along with an old antenna-less television who’s only program is ‘Echoes of the Big-bang’. So I started taking a couple of shots of my beard while I hovered above the keyboard. Checking my hairs for focus on the screen and liking the soft expansive light. I’ve never seen myself from this angle before, very interesting. So this is the view from my keyboard. So in the picture I know im looking at the screen, but what does the image say? What am I looking at? I figured its got to be something amazing. So that’s were the caption came from. Its based on a scene from one of my favorite films, where a samurai is reminiscing about his hometown and how beautiful it is… and that’s when I had my eureka moment and remembered I could search for the actual film and write it down word for word in my blog and THAT would be the piece ‘This is a picture of me staring at..etc’. (I might still do it) Wait, there’s more. I found the film on YT in its entirety and in english sub-titles ( my version is dubbed in Castilian) so you can imagine my joy. I get to see the film, hear the original Japanese voices AND get an english translation ( which seems to be spot on) AND for the first time. So now IM running down the mountain joyfully. (my actual words) So there’s been alot of that going on lately in my life, tasting again, for the first time. The film is called ‘When the Last Sword is Drawn’.