“If I had a way back, I’d ride through the dark and the dawn
(But please don’t wait for me)”
INSPIRATION.
“If I had a way back, I’d ride through the dark and the dawn
(But please don’t wait for me)”
. . .
I understand now.
//
I complicate everything.
I am not easy.
I am not a walk in the park.
I am quiet
but there are explosions inside my head
and
there is a fire behind my eyes.
I am poetry.
I am water.
I am the cool, blue depths,
always urging me back home.
//
I understand now.
. . .
The Girl in the Mirror.
Possession.
Spontaneous.
Concupiscent.
Oscillate.
She’s Not Here
. . .
I do a lot of weird shit as a self-portrait photographer. Sometimes it works, most of the time it doesn’t. I almost always shoot nude. I don’t know why – I hate my body. Maybe it’s my subconscious trying to tell me to get right with myself, accept myself and love myself the way I do others.
It’s hot. I’m sweaty. And thirsty. My cats are looking at me like I’m insane. I probably am.
I removed paintings from the wall. Flipped a chair upside down. Wedged myself between the rocker legs (what are those damn things called?). Got stuck and bruised my ribs in the process. I crawled back and forth from the “spot” to where I had my camera propped up on Thomas the Train books and some weird plastic cup for filling the diffuser. I tried not to thump around since my children are sound asleep below me.
Sometimes I wonder what people would think of me if I had an audience.
“What the fuck is she doing?” is usually what comes to mind. Some more self-hatred comes out, too, but I try to ignore those invasive thoughts in my head.
Maybe I keep doing this, maybe I feel like this is my calling because maybe, just maybe, one day I’ll see them and realize I am beautiful. I was all along.
Maybe.
Alternative process.
Self-portrait tintypes from 2011.
I spent some time exploring the Hilton in downtown Fort Wayne a few weeks ago.