A letter to a friend

a letter to a photographer friend today - a reply to his message after seeing my film
Clair Obscure.

I was surprised by what gushed forth
sometimes I surprise myself, in a good way :-)

Oh Dave,

you have no idea how much your message has touched me. So many emotions. I don't know where to begin...

first, I'll start from the end...

Interesting you picked up on the whole doc/60's-70's feel. I guess my religious viewing of films such as shock corridor (Sam Fuller), Titicut Follies (Frederick Wiseman), 2001 (Kubrick), A woman under the influence (Cassavettes) and of course, One Flew over the cuckoo's nest (Forman) and Let there be light (Huston). Film has been a huge part of my life. When my parents divorced, i was 11, and my weekly father's visits consisted of dinner @ Wendy's or McDonalds followed by a movie. That's all we did. That was his way of connecting. After watching a film, we'd go for ice cream and have our own "At the movies" critique session. You can imagine how interesting they were when we saw 2001 a Space Odyssey and Apocalypse Now (he snuck me into that one. Opening week - crazy insanity. He literally snuck me underneath his coat!!)

And when I did film production @ university, we were old school. 1990. Cutting film was an organic experience. Almost spiritual.

manic depression is often a ticking time bomb, present in the family tree and detonated during or after a traumatic event - my detonation was my parent's split. After that. puberty wreaked havoc until I was 19. That's when I had my full blown breakdown. It was ugly. It is truly a miracle I lived to tell the tale. I should have been dead by now, more than half a dozen times over...

After almost a year of being shuttled from emergency room to another, I was helped by a doctor who was starting a crisis clinic at one of the hospitals. She was a pioneer in her field and research into bipolar. It was the light at the end of the tunnel, but little did I know, the tunnel would be filled with sewage, rot and stigma. (funny enough - while I'm writing this, I just realized that the whole scene in the tunnel might have been a subconscious link to that...)

I was hospitalized for a week and then a day patient for a month. The big mental hospital is actually an old mansion on the mountain. Ornate, yet now devoid of all its glamour, it was a hollow shell of a once grandiose existence - so much like the life of a person with bipolar - after the crash...

I knew I was not 'crazy/over the edge" as some of the people there were, but i was not far from it. I had actually looked into the abyss. Stood on the precipice of no return. It was a welcome end to an existence filled with pain, confusion and relentless chaos. That ledge was so narrow. Despite my new 'medicated lithium state", it was terrifying to actually know that i was so close to jumping into an alternate reality because mine had become a living hell. The woman who sat in the waiting room, in the buss, arranging her groceries, watching out the window as the world passed her by, letting the wind blow through her hair. That could have been me. In that waiting room, in that other world...

what brought me back, i still don't know. But to this day, I am forever thankful that by some divine intervention, i returned. Perhaps it was the will to live, my higher reptilian brain telling me to push through. Or perhaps it was my old soul telling me it was my gift to be able to share this experience with the world. That my suffering was indeed necessary to be able to coherently explain life "on the other side" and to give others hope, and others insight into an existence that is nothing short of hell on earth...

Your relationship with your ex-girlfriend - bless your heart. We all need somebody as understanding and loving as you are to her. You are insightful and kind to realize that bipolar is something bigger than we are. It is bigger than our logical mind. It is our emotional mind on crack. It's the vortex of fear and isolation, of gravity and pain twisted around synapses that fire furiously, out of control, without a plan. Rabid. Paralyzing. What we say and do during our mixed states is not of our own consciousness. It is the muddled kaleidoscope of isolation, broken dreams and terror.

And ADD, I suffer from that too, albeit a mild version but  I know all too well how that can turn a normal task into a labyrinth of confusion and complication.  Mine runs into elliptical and illogical ruminations about death, paranoia and other worst case scenarios. Sometimes, I can't even step out of the house because I'm afraid that the earth will open up and swallow me whole, or that I will spontaneously combust. My mind checks over the details like a mega processor, but the computations never add up but information spews forth at random, adding to the confusion and chaos in my brain.

Dysthymic  Disorder - that languid melancholy, worn like a wet overcoat. How it turns the most beautiful sunset into a realization that another day has passed and life is that much shorter.  How the excitement of a new day is filtered through the density of apprehension that what we didn't do yesterday is yet another reason to put off what we could have done to what we should do, but then as the sunset begins, we get lost in an endless cycle of regret and what seems like idyllic hope. I really hope that you are able to manage those episodes. That you have found a medication to ease the pain. I have found that CBT (cognitive behavioral therapy has helped me a lot), but as with all ways of seeing and learning, it takes practice. The key is to stay positive and focused. Which for people like us, is nothing short of a hurdle in itself. Having friends who understand and believe in you are key.

But I think the worst part is dealing with the people who think "it's all in your head". Yes. It is. But despite that when they say : "just snap out of it" - mental illness is a chemical imbalance. The brain is a complex system of nerve tissue, fibers, neurons, dendrites and synapses - all working together or against each other. Even in the 21st century, science is still in the initial stages of comprehension and unraveling the mystery that is the human mind. I have had to deal with people who say: "just get a grip on life", "everybody has problems", "it's all in how you deal with it" or the best one: "buck up and face your problems like a man/woman".  It is my hope that one day, people who are these ignorant naysayers live one life in the mind of somebody who suffers as we have. I have no doubt that they would quickly change their mind and opinion, but until then, I try with my photography and films to drive the point home.

Did you see my "blue series" on flickr? I have a bunch of other "self portraits" that try to illustrate life on the other side of sanity. With each shutter click, i hope that one day I will get closer to being more cohesive, better at expressing my experiences. It's important that people know and understand. Ignorance breeds contempt and hatred. Our world is filled with enough of that. 
People who suffer by no will of their own need a fucken break. 

All my life i've had to deal with people labeling me a "weird/off/strange/psychotic/wacky". A good friend of mine from high school with whom i recently reconnected with said that people often came to her and asked: "why are you friends with her? She's pretty messed up." But she stuck through, believed in me and said - 'that's why she's so special. And that's why she's my friend." If only i had that kind of unconditional acceptance from my friends and family. 

After a nasty court settlement when i turned 20, my mother, father and both lawyers on both sides sat in our lawyer's office and when asked if we had any last words, I looked at him and pulled out a piece of paper.

"dad, you think that this is all in my head - this depression. this mania. my suffering. Here is a list of doctors that will tell you that I am in fact suffering from bipolar disorder. That it is real. I encourage you to get in touch with them and talk to them yourself."

without looking at me, he packed up his briefcase, took the paper, folded it into a tiny square and shoved it in his pocket. 


"Well, if I were to ask the doctors when all my problems started, they would say that it all started when you were born."

And with that, he left the room. His lawyer, my lawyer and mother all stood there, silent and shocked. His lawyer apologized profusely. So did our lawyer. So did my mom. It was something I would have to get used to.

How ironic is it that to this day, my dad, even though he has seen my film, still does not believe that what i suffer from is a legitimate and medical condition.

It is still something I am getting used to. But if my film can touch one person, then all of this will have been worth it.

And your message has made me smile.

I'm so happy that it touched your life. That means everything to me.

Please stay well Dave, and i have faith that one day, we will be able to share our stories on the battle field. We have come through the difficult task of survival, overcoming the stigma, and through that, will inspire others.

hpk

from a friend

a fellow flickr friend is in crisis.
And I know this crisis well, as i seem to be in the same mode these days.

and it's not easy.

I equate it to a complete existential meltdown. Nothing makes any sense anymore. There are no rights or wrongs, only maybes and I don't know for sures.

cavedweller

I've stopped seeing myself, or being able to see myself. Making self portraits when you can't see yourself is very hard I find. The last time I really had a full mental picture of myself was a few years ago and I didn't want to look.

When I'm between work and projects and have nothing I'm focusing my efforts on or planning, I feel adrift and panicky. I've barely been out of the house in weeks except to go food shopping, hit the post office, catch a movie and get a hair cut, avoiding the heat and conserving resources until the next thing comes....

guardian angels exist in cyberspace.

I was getting very distraught that my postcards had not made it to the gallery in time for the opening last night. After an hour with customer service, they agreed to reprint 500 more postcards rush order and ship them off last night.

Well, I just received confirmation that they arrived safely.

a day late - well, i guess I'll make an impression ;-)

but this is what moved me.

An old friend of mine from flickr who is now on facebook posted this onto my profile.

and then, what i wrote back to him.

an end of the week blessing of sorts.

Me:

Releived that the Postcards FINALLY made it to NYC. A little late, but I guess I'm sure to leave a lasting impression ;-)

Derrick: HPK, believe it or not! -- I prayed that those postcards got to you in good hands eventually (several times). In fact, I sent my guardian angel out to make to guide those cards to you in fashionable time. And, of course, none of this ever fails!

What is interesting is that yesterday I had started to write you a wall post that was going to ask if perhaps you had gotten them yet (because I sensed in my heart that you were going to get them; my guardian angel never fails me). If you had of said "no," I was going to say, "...have a little faith, because they are going to be there soon, watch and see." All of this is true.

Then I see now that you received them. Perfect!

and what i wrote to him right after...

Derrick, you have no idea how completely floored i am that you took a few moments to pray and ask your guardian angel to help get those cards to nyc! I was gonna get all mushy gushy on my post, but thought that i would rather tell you personally. Thank you so very very much.

It's been such a long time since I have been moved by the kindness of strangers (well, you're not a stranger, but we have never "Met" per say, but you know what i mean...) that when i read this a few minutes ago, i shed tears of joy and thankfulness. I have always felt that you were a special person from the moment i saw your photos, and then as the years passed, and i got to know you a bit more, that opinion became solidified. You have such a way with words, the sentences you compose, the images you create - the kind only a caring and sensitive soul would imagine. I'm almost speechless! Thank you thank you thank you!!

Guardian angels - not many people talk about them anymore. I once had an experience when i was very young - perhaps 7 or 8. I always had a statue of a guardian angel on my bureau. She was beautiful - tall, stoic, cascading long golden hair, a shimmery white robe and delicate sparkled wings. It was an old ceramic figurine that was passed down from my mom to me. Well, one night, i awoke from a horrible nightmare and sat up in bed. Before me was the fading apparition of the same guardian angel, now larger than life - extending her arm out to me as if to say: go back to sleep. It's okay, i'm here to take care of you..." And as i try to focus on her, she slowly faded away. That night, i had the best sleep of my life. I tried to explain it to my mom but she shrugged it off as part of a dream, but i knew otherwise.

it was not until a few days after my grandfather's funeral did my mom start to believe in what i was saying. Her father had a long suffering bout with lung cancer and when he died, was skin and bones. A few days after the funeral, my mom was awake, tossing and turning, in and out of a light drift of unconsciousness when she noticed something glowing on in the curtains in front of her. She looked up and it was her father - radiant, glowing, and looking healthy and happy. He reached out to touch her shoulder, as if to say: "I'm here, i'm happy and i love you". She was filled with grace and love and as she fell asleep, felt protected and at peace. She still considers that the best sleep of her life.

I often have dreams of dead relatives. They never actually "Speak", just telepathically communicate. I had told my grandmother (my mom's mom) when i was about 15 that i had these dreams. Her face lit up: "back in the old country (czechoslovakia) we would consider people who were able to see the dead as special and very gifted. You have a special connection with the beyond." well, it was many months before i dreamt of her, but a few weeks ago, both my mom and myself dreamt of her ON THE SAME NIGHT!! and to both of us, revealed that she was happy and at peace (although she did make my mom work - "I'm coming to visit and I'm bringing 5 friends - I hope you don't mind!". (My mom always seems to be working in her dreams. Guess it's a capricorn thing cause e does the same... lol) And then, two weeks later, we both dreamt of my aunt and my grandmother - AGAIN -THE SAME NIGHT!! So as i get older, i realize that there are perhaps things as the afterlife - planes of energy that vibrate long after the body is gone, and that sometimes, if you are sensitive enough, or perhaps, ask loudly enough, you will get a reply.

Atoms communicate to each other. On what level still is the great unknown, and perhaps will forever remain the greatest mysteries of the universe. All of that to say, I guess you have a really great relationship with your guardian angel Derrick. And because you shared that relationship with me in an indirect way, I am so very blessed to have you as a friend in my life. :-))

I have one little favor to ask though - if you can please say some special prayers for my mother? She is still on her arthritis medication which happens to be an immune system suppressant. The battle rages between her oncologist who says to go off it (because he thinks that it suppressed her immune system so much that despite the IL2 treatments which were immune system boosters, so that the cancer was able to come back) and her g.p who says to stay on it. She is battle weary and i fear that if the cancer does come back, she will refuse treatment, or that the cancer will come back with a vengeance - brain or pancreatic cancer, which there is usually no hope for survival. I'd like to believe in miracles - that she will beat this thing, but after reading your post, I now believe in little ones, and they are the building block for the big ones. God Bless you Derrick. Than you for being so very special. oxoxoxoxooxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxooxxooxoxoox hpk

prep

on saturday, i will take on a very high profile shoot. Needless to say, i'm nervous as hell.

Checking my equipment and realizing that i am missing some things is getting me a little rattled. But I must sleep, so i will leave the camera bags, cables, lenses where they are and deal with it 2mrw.

I got some wonderful news today. Max Ryan is going to be in the new Sex and the City movie!! I'm so very happy for this wonderful man. He was a dream to work with, and made me think of "old school hollywood actors" - utterly professional, kind, and warm.

I posted some stuff on flickr, and facebook but shamelessly added my watermark cause i know that the net can be an evil monkey when it comes to plagiarizing images. Has happened to me in the past. I know it will happen again. Time to prevent it.

but it's funny, this shoot came at a point in my life when i was ready to throw away my camera for good. I was all tapped out, but this saved me.

Perhaps shooting Japanese businessmen for a medical journal will be my saving grace...

good to know i'm not the only one...

August 26, 2009. 12:56AM. Dear Diary: I can't believe it! Ever since I've started posting semi-nude self-portraits on Flickr back in 2005, I've been flooded with international sexual opportunities! Can my perfectly rounded scoops of flesh and my unyeilding neurotic preoccupation with sex, sexy thoughts and all things sexual (for that matter)really cause such a stir?

Dr. Jo

DRK:

Hahaha! I feel like I've just read a "spam mail" heading!

"My intentions are good, I use my intuition, it takes me for a ride," sang John Lennon. How fitting. I think.

Anyway, this is hilarious.

Dr. Jo:

My breasts have become completely unresponsive to any and all attempts to cajole them back to Fucker. I mean Flickr.

HPK:

hahah! Yep. My hooters have been hiding behind a well padded facade for a while now. Ignorance is oddly blissful, but at times, suffocating. Flickr haunts and taunts me, but alas, mine are unresponsive as well. Don't worry dear Joanne, a few more weeks of bench presses and they will be popping out of your shirt - literally!!! lol !

Dr. Jo:

You too, HPK? My "relationship" with Flickr and the Flickr "audience" has undergone many transformations but it seems to be on the decline as of late. I wonder if that's all there is or simply, has my desire to be "out there" waned a bit? Perhaps I haven't any more to give...or I just like the "intimacy" of FB better? Dunno., but this is fine for now :)

HPK:

It's comforting to hear I'm not the only one going through this bizarre period. Flickr is a strange place now, crawling with bottom feeders trolling for porn in whatever crumb they can find. That's one big reason I didn't post my profile pic here there. Can you imagine how many foot freaks would fave that photo? Ewwwwee...

And I've noticed some of the people I had as contacts have "un-contacted" me. I feel a bit betrayed somehow. I exposed myself to them, they replied with love and support, and now it's as if i don't exist. (but that's a whole other bag of beans).
Transformation. A change of direction in our art? It's all so scary. What used to be my saving grace has now turned into a used kleenex. Why am i keeping it if it is just making my pocket all soggy? But It's more than a kleenex - it's a handkerchief really. And that always has sentimental value attached. So flicker, & style that defined me are my hanky. Toss, wash or keep? That is the question...

a letter to a friend...

today, feeling so very vulnerable - a letter to a brilliant photographer and kindred spirit...


Hey R,
Thanks so much for touching base with me. I was really happy when you did - every little email goes a long way to help bring me out of the slump I have fallen into. I'm sure you put two and two together when I made that comment on your photo "speed limit"...

So how have you been?
well, my health - it's so up and down. I had a horrible dream that the doctor's office called to tell me I have cervical cancer - I know, a dream is just a dream, but still shook me up enough to haunt me for the past two days. Guess it's that my mom's 3 month PET scan is coming up - and next week, she gets the results. Perhaps I'm projecting, imagining what it would be like to be in her shoes, and it's not pretty. It blows my mind to see how strong she is and has been through this whole thing. I don't think I have even 1/100 of her guts as I find myself falling apart at the seams on a regular basis.

So I had this procedure to scrape off the pre-cancerous cells from my cervix. Not a huge operation - done in office, but it still was a medical procedure along with needles and lots of industrial medical device noise. Thought I was hemorrhaging last week when all of the sudden, the bleeding got worse. Had to go back to the same doc to see what was up. I don't imagine that a prostate exam is any walk in the park, but for a woman to be lying down, legs spread open to the world is perhaps one of the most vulnerable places to be - physically and mentally.
Not a pretty place at all...

so it wasn't hemorrhaging, but a part of the healing process. My body was not happy - i guess the trauma had shaken everything up cause I felt sicker and achier, more emotionally vulnerable and volatile (on top of my bipolar which seems not to be managed very well lately). Shaken, not stirred - and ready to pop. So it's been really hard on me, not to mention everybody else around me.

I have seemed to abandoned photography and flickr. Funny, the thing that I used to save me in times of pain and fear has now turned into pain and fear. I once told somebody that manic depression is a mental cancer. Now that I reflect upon it again, it feels so much to be true. It's always there, can be manageable, but when it comes back, it's usually full force - relentless in its erosion of anything healthy - thoughts, hopes, dreams.

sorry to ramble on like this.
I sit here contemplating whether to delete this chunk of email or not, but perhaps in exposing these demons, I can begin to understand them and keep them from overtaking my life...

I see your photos and each and every one of them transports me to another world. You have a signature style, but no two images are even remotely alike. A quiet, yet profound maturity - a weathered soul with wisdom and insight garnered through years of hardship and joy. You really have such a gift, and in allowing the viewer to suspend their connection with their own present state, and enter yours through your photography, there truly is a healing element in that. I thank you for letting me heal through your images.