139/365

Tuesday, October 30, 2012




Re-photographed parts of a photograph.

"For the photograph is the advent of myself as other: a cunning dissociation of consciousness from identity."

From Roland Barthes Camera Lucida, which I have been reading the past few days.


From my notes, October 28th,

If photography is the advent of the self as other, the photograph an imitation of a person, what happens when you are both the subject and the photographer? Two things have been captured, dual selves. And if so many versions of myself exist and I feel an impostor in my own mind and body as a result, who am I really? And will I ever find or know that person, recognize or remember that person, and will any of these images match up or am I just creating layers and layers of fictional selves. 

I'm marking time. Mapping time. But the pieces are already fictional, and memory is a reconstruction, and I am floating, flying through an un-mappable reality. (Desperately) Trying to pin down all of the definitions I've written for myself. 

(And already failing?)





138/365

Monday, October 29, 2012


Steele built this table all by himself. For a commission. He also has a tiny hole in the toe of his sock. 

Last night, I started running the bathroom water to let it get hot, and then I took my contact out and it fell right off my finger, into the stream of water, and got washed down the drain. 

And today I wore head to toe blue. 

Monochrome. 

137/365

Sunday, October 28, 2012



It rained hard today. 

I got some work done.

And now Steele and I are debating the purchase of a nice rug. (That we like, that went on sale. Oh the agony.)

These are my problems. To buy a rug or not to buy a rug?



I'll leave you with that searching question.

136/365

Saturday, October 27, 2012



Self portrait of a girl

At

Twenty-one years
Two months
Twenty-seven days
Eighteen hours
Fifty-four minutes




(Today Steele and I cleaned up the house, which feels really nice.
I found the picture below in my phone archives and really liked it. Two people, slightly different. Old mirror, old bathroom. Old me.)



135/365



Yesterday I did an engagement shoot for a lovely couple from Long Beach, CA. 
(They were in for a treat as it was very very wet out.)

It was beautiful (my first time doing any engagement stuff) and fun. Tiring, but fun. I still have about half of the images to edit, but so far I'm really really happy with what I've got. 

The above image is sort of an outtake, but I really like it. A link between two people. 

134/365

Thursday, October 25, 2012


(exterior)


(interior)


From my journal:

Some mornings the trash trucks drive by, banging and screeching. The first time it happened right when we moved in, it was so loud I thought the world was ending. Now it's just a normal annoyance. This morning though, I work to this deep rumbling. The sun was rising outside and it was still semi-dark in our room and the sound outside felt like the ground was breathing. I even went up to the window and tried to find the source, but I couldn't see anything, it was everywhere. So I went back to our bed cocoon for a few more stolen minutes. And when I got up, got ready, and walked out of our building, I saw it was a carpet cleaning van, come to clean our basement. 

October 25, 2012

133/365

Wednesday, October 24, 2012




My eyelids sort of feel like someone glued sand to the insides of them.

132/365



As romantic as fly-away hair is, it all gets a little tangled up. 
Steele and I saw 26 callapitters today. 

Also Steele called a caterpillar as callapitter.

And he ran up a hill. (Very romantic.)
And lost his keys. (Daily average defeat.)


131/365

Monday, October 22, 2012



Look. Light. (Again, what did you expect?)




130/365

Sunday, October 21, 2012



Sometimes you have to unwrap each day. 

Inside today was, 

sleeping in (again)
oatmeal and cider
helping Steele map his mind
walking home with a 10 lb. bag of potatoes
making latkes, fall food
pumpkin carving, scary movies

and of course, as always, these little pieces. 

129/365

I am frozen in front of this computer, at 2:45 in the morning, trying to find a way to put the day in this little white box.



There were so many things I didn't photograph today.

The white reflections on the walls and ceilings when I woke up.
A poured pancake cooking on the stove.
The sky as Steele and I walked around the city.
Leaves fully submerged in puddles.
Ink rolled up on the glass print shop tables.
The flaming sunset clouds.
Prints being pulled.
The foggy bus stop windows.
Candles on our coffee table.



If I could have a super power it would be rewinding time, so I could go back and capture it again and again.

128/365



Here is the sky. Have everything.

127/365




Two kinds of light. 

I meant to write something meaningful about friendship right here. (But I forgot it.)




126/365

Wednesday, October 17, 2012

Today I wore my boss bitch boots. (As Ruby called them.) Not unsimilar to these.

I wore them so I could feel like stomping on top of the whole world and be in charge of my own life. It kind of worked. My braid also looked pretty long, so that helped. I felt a little like a boss bitch.

But, I also felt a little bit like Brittany.

Which is to say,

Slightly insecure
       sorta like a polar bear,
       drawing into itself for winter time.
           inside.
           itself.
Kinda silly. (Jumping around, not nearly enough smirks.)
And saying utterly ridiculous things, like,
     
       "What if you could map out your whole life?'
       (It would start small, just one word (Brittany) and grow and grow until you couldn't see the edges and all of the lines crossing all over everything, mapping out every single important thing in your life (and even the not so important things too) and it would stretch into infinity and no matter how far your spread your arms you wouldn't be able to touch the perimeters.)

A little sad, a little broken hearted, and mostly feeling like,
         the sock line from the boss bitch boots.
         is 100% metaphorical.




125/365

Tuesday, October 16, 2012


Good things:

Morning light on the wall
Hot cider
Soft shadows
Orange pumpkin field
Fluttering leaves
Library smell
Olives
Kisses






124/365

Monday, October 15, 2012


Today was strange. 

I will give you an account of it, chronologically, because on strange days that makes sense. 

I got up early, but got to school late so I could have time to drink some hot cider and eat a slice of pumpkin bread. I walked to school in the grey misty fog. Rode the bus up, listened to a little Regina Spektor, got up the hill and the little cemetery bowl was filled with fog. And, then, class, the usual. Steele and I took a nap on the couch in his studio. And hour and half long nap on a comfy brown couch, lost time. (Even though, how can an hour and half pressed up against Steele's chest be lost time?) 

I had a thesis meeting with Mark, which was good and there are ideas floating around in my head that I'm sure you faithful blog readers will find out about soon. (Things you might even have to participate in, even though I know all of you are introverts and who wants to admit they even read a blog, anyways?)

Steele and I are watching the Bronco's game right now. Which started off slightly depressing and I became sleepy. The simulated fire place didn't help with the sleepiness. Only now it looks like we might be making a come back. So maybe this will mean good things for my mental state of mind too. 

Maybe my day wasn't so strange after all.

At some point I have to stop measuring my daily happiness by photographs, right? At some point, a day that I spend with Steele, happy, making progress with my ideas, in a rainy city that I love, will have to be enough. Right? Every lost photograph feels like a little wound to my heart. I just have to keep reminding myself, there is more. 


/Rambling over.  

123/365





Working on things for school. 

Trying to, 

keep it together. 

122/365



The sky. Dusk clouds. 

Sometimes I feel like I've got this little ball, like a snow ball, that just keeps rolling and rolling and picking up layers and layers of snow. Like there is this tiny ball that I am holding to my chest and it keeps getting bigger and bigger and I keep getting bigger and bigger and farther away from the girl I used to be. 


121/365

Saturday, October 13, 2012




Today the rain came back. 






120/365

Thursday, October 11, 2012




Today Steele and I were at home, then we left home to catch the bus for our 5pm class. But, we learned on the walk to the bus that the class had been cancelled. So we got to go to the park in the last rays of light! It's funny how 3 hours can seem like a gift when you were meant to be sitting in a classroom, discussing beauty and art. 

Instead we got to go look at beautiful things, and make some art. (See below)

The end of each day is the start of a new day, always, and so the end of every day feels like the time of day to make new resolutions. But I guess I should be making them in the morning. And then maybe I would actually keep them. Humph.



119/365

Wednesday, October 10, 2012



Today I accidentally left the house 10 minutes early. The bus comes at 7:40, which means I leave at 7:30, but this morning I somehow got it mixed up and thought I needed to leave at 7:20. 

It's strange when the morning walk to the bus is your favorite part of the day. It was foggy and crisp and I thought that the fog would last all the way up the hill to school, but we crested the hill and the skies had turned blue and sun was hitting the tops of the trees. I guess my scarf wasn't necessary. 

Rain is (finally) in the forecast for this weekend and I honestly couldn't be more excited. It feels so dry here and I can't wait to wake up to raindrops. Rain... feels comforting to me. Just like clouds.

I just wish I had a fireplace I could curl up next to. 

Things about this photograph


Things about this photograph:

Warm light, cool shadows
Delicate lace web of foam
Deep dark spots
Push/pull

118/365

Tuesday, October 9, 2012

Today I woke up, finally feeling better (though still sniffly) which motived to capture little things from my day. 

So here are some little things. From the one hundred and eighteenth day of this project. 








117/365


Recovering from a cold. 
The clearest part of my day, Steele's forehead wrinkles. 


Henceforth, 

116/365



More sickscapes. Changing shadows on the walls and too much TV.