Submerged.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Tiny little bubbles, gems with pockets of air, cling to my arms, my legs, the area in between my breasts. I like to submerge quickly and hope that this crappy disposable camera will capture the magic of being underwater. It doesn't quite get it, but that's okay. Holding these photos is proof that this day once existed, that I was once under this specific water. They are a place for the bubbles to not pop. Laying on your back, ears under the water line, in a pool with your best friend is beautiful for the sheer delight of quietly contemplating and knowing that there is another body within arms reach (a brush of the toe, perhaps) who is also quietly contemplating.







The first three photos were taken by Crrr, and are much lovelier than the bottom three, which I took without regards to composition (apparently). The colors are weird, I know, and they are very grainy. They are for memories sake. I also realize there is a weird little line across the top of all of them, and I know I should rescan them, but I won't. This is how they are and how they will stay.

Mamiya C330

These were all shot with my Mamiya C330 and Ektachrome film.
I really want to get more used to using this camera consistently and get better at editing the film, focusing, and so forth...









Saturday, June 25, 2011

So she leaves. We ebb apart from each other. I stay and I watch the sand. The breeze still moves it from hill to hill. The sun still sets and it still rises. Only her touch is missing from my days.

I am haunted by her question. Is this all there is?

She sends letters, little pieces of herself for me to follow. Crumbs I'm supposed to eat up. I wake up every day and watch the sand and then one day I wake up and know with such certainty that I will never follow her.











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Friday, June 24, 2011

We wanted to exist purely in this land filled with endless hills of sand. Everywhere it stretched it shimmered, like we were in piles of glitter or snow. Here the sun is always rising or setting. A small breeze moves piles of sand from one hill to the other and our only job is to watch it. That is why we are here--to watch the sand move. We don't know anything but we know this is real: the sand, and the small touches our fingers leave on each other. We don't know anything else.

On one such day she looks at me and she says, "Is this all there is?"

I look out at the sand and I don't understand what she is asking.












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Thursday, June 23, 2011


I wish I could be in a little bubble with no influences except myself and the (real) world around me. Was lurking around the internet and ended up on Nirrimi's blog, and ended up finding this:

"i know it sounds strange but i try to not look at other's work if i can avoid it. if i do i look at collections of work from many different photographers, not just one style. sometimes styles can stick in your head and you'll subconsciously mimic them. it's not your fault, it's the way we are made."

This is really how I feel. I really don't like to look too much at other peoples work because then it just ends up influencing mine way too much. I'm trying to just keep myself in the moment and not worry about what I'm doing or where I'm going. Not 100% sure it's working, but we'll see.

Inside/Outside

Monday, June 20, 2011

I'm playing a little game. It's called "Try to do something meaningful."



I'm exploring a concept: Inside/Outside.

Or:

Inhibition
Vulnerable
Prison
Safe


(Click to make them bigger.) Above are my notes from yesterday before I went out shooting. You see the little sketch of my proposed image? Yes, there it is. I was thinking: Outside, in nature. Inside, myself.

Here is the image I ended up with:


The text is taken from the paragraph I wrote and posted two days ago. Which I think relates to this whole Inside/Outside idea quite nicely. I was going to start working on a new idea today, a new word or phrase, but I think I might keep working on this one, there's more, I can feel it.

Saturday, June 18, 2011

I built a little prison up, around myself. Put bars on all my windows and guarded the door. Then I curl up in a ball at the head of my bed and close my eyes. The bars come down. Open them. I can see the sky. I can pretend your lips are hovering over me, here. If I sing to myself I can pretend you are singing with me. What if I peeled the entire first layer of skin off of my body?; I shaved a thin layer of skin off the back of my ankle this morning in the shower. It was an accident and it hurt. Now I can see the sky, hear the cars. I wish I had gotten up at 7 in the morning. Some days we're just inside a prison.




June 18 2011

Little things from a walk

Friday, June 17, 2011

Some of the most beautiful things about a photographic walk:








If you happen to be on my Flickr friends list, head over there to see an image I shot yesterday while I was on the walk.

May 30, 2011

Thursday, June 2, 2011

A one sentence story. Click to make it bigger.



Graduation, umbilical cords, and the like.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011


Going to graduation after you've graduated is a weird experience. You sit outside this little bubble full of people who are all connected but you are only connected to one or two of them. Even stranger is the fact that I no longer have any connection to a school I once spent almost every day inside of. The umbilical cord has been severed. I am out in the word and my circle of daily interactions has shrunk from my graduating class to a much much smaller bubble. I have left Conifer behind but feel as if time is standing still, like I left everything on pause and if I go back inside I will see the same people all around.



But mostly, I am happy. For my brother and Crrr, and for their severed umbilical cords. I thought, going into the ceremony, that I would cry. But the truth is that I only teared up at the thought of them graduating, and not when they actually did. The moment was too full of cheering, and smiling, and scrambling around to get a photograph.