in/out

so in less than 12 hours, a new decade will be upon us.

We will be entering a whole new era.
I know that this will be the moment for me to become the "mover and shaker" that i'm meant to be.


Last night, 2am, i had a vision for a multi disciplinary art project.

3am, more ideas. Had to fumble around to find post it notes in the dark.

4am, got up and emptied my head. It felt good. So very good.

For once, i have a sense of purpose and direction. Lucid and aware, the fog has lifted just in time to ring in the new year.


Spent the weekend with E and mom in Vermont. It was truly lovely. We shopped until we almost dropped and feasted on taste bud quivering French cuisine. The drive back, in the dark, slippery roads and blowing snow, we laughed and sang, grooving to the bee gees. Our little family.

So to now shut down for the last night of 2009, the decade steeped in crap but at the same time graciously spotted with glorious glory, i wish you all a wonderful New Year's celebration, and may this new decade be filled with happiness, health and the "big break" we are all waiting for.

I know it's out there.

In with the new, out with the old!

Mr. Fyst, you were right...

Mr. Arty, you were right. The painter man was spooked out by death. Wrote me a long email explaining what happened with his mother when he was small - came close to the big D word. Flipped him out. Then one of his best friend's sister died. He loved them to bits, but still could not bring himself to the funeral. Says he still beats himself up for it, has tried to change his character but can't seem to do it. Change his attitude that is.

Up until my grandmother died last March, it had been a long time in between deaths. The last one being my best friend who offed himself in a hotel room. I wept for days, then off and on for weeks, then off and on for months. Even to this day, I still shed a tear.

I mourn the loss of one of the best friends I have ever had, mourn the loss of the possibilities for him, the lives he could have touched. The world would have been a better place with him still in it, but on the flip side, when he was on this earth, so many people were touched by his life, love and laughter, and i was one of the privileged.


I remember seeing his ashes in a beautiful burgundy box on the altar of a small chapel. Our gang sat around it - 5 on either side. His cegep family, and his blood family. Back then, the idea of cremation freaked me out; but today, my grandmother's ashes is right beside our wedding picture. She could not make it in person, but at least she was there in spirit. Technically, she is here in person, but in a different and smaller more compact version...

So that closed door is now re-opened. Happy about that, but i tread with caution. I have begun to guard myself, but begun to question wether i must now lower my expectations of my friends and their behavior and what i will accept as "acceptable behavior".

Still now word from She. Not even a  "well, bitch, if that's the way you feel, fuck you", which is what i expected. At at least that. Latest post on fb says that she's going on vacation. Posted on somebody else's post that "I'm sick too and nobody is taking care of me!"

well girl, you made your bed, now lie in it...

but it still hurts, and it hurts my attitude towards my art and myself.

I looked at my latest frame series. Not a lot of activity on it. Received one private message that said it was brilliant - and i had reached a new pinnacle in my creativity.

Really?

why does it feel like i am rotting inside? Why do i feel as if I am slipping away?

but anyway.
The hurt will eventually turn to annoyance, and from that, minor irritation. There will be a scab, but to heal entirely, i must avoid picking at it. That is why i have removed her from my news feed. Removed all her old emails from my inbox, put them into a folder called: "I don't care anymore".

Same with my father. E and i are drafting the final email. His attention span is the size of a pin head, so being concise is key. Looking for a one two punch. Then walking away from the fight for good.

It's windy outside, snow rolling by like ice capped waves. Snow. That used to equal skiing. Father and daughter time on the slopes. And that was lots of fun. But in order to move on, i must forge new memories, new experiences.

one step at a time. One hill at a time.

So mr. Fyst - you were right, as I knew you would be. I felt the same way and knew that A was a kind heart, yet tormented soul, but for the others? Well, they have their own demons to wrestle with, but there is a difference between being self centered and centering the self.

onward and upward. On the page and onto the screen our words will go.

a round table of three

so i did it - shot the dreaded conference.

A round table of three doctors. That was it.

No audience, no other "press"

I opened the door, saw a table, three microphones, chairs and turned to E:

"Is this it?"

and so it was, and i was relieved.

Nothing is more stressful than trying to examine every aspect of what you are doing and trying not to look stressed when people are watching you work.

Hallelujah.

So i set up the room with two strobes opposite on the diagonal of each other. Very straightforward. Was planning to use an on camera flash but ditched the idea last minute.

90 minutes later, the meeting was over, i had clocked in almost 100 pictures and one of the doctors made a comment about how he felt as if he were part of a fashion shoot.

I thanked them all profusely for being so patient despite the endless pops of light that kept on going off, but assured them that I got some amazing shots.

And i really did.

now come the long painstaking part - processing those suckers.

Along with the city shots, i have over 350 photos. Gonna take a long time - days and nights, but for the cash they are paying me, it's an investment of my hours and effort.

But go figure - 55 days late and i got the bleed from hell.

So i'm trying to pace myself between looking out the window, procrastinating a few nanoseconds here and there, working my little mac into the ground and changing pads/tampons every 15 minutes.

Life is not that bad...

when it all comes together sometimes...

today, i had planned to see an art expo. An old friend of mine now has a gallery (and oddly enough, a few doors down from the last amazing show I saw last week, and even more bizarre, in the same spot where i worked in a photography gallery almost 10 years ago. Weird..) and had contacted him about stopping by.

When i looked to see who the artist was, i was blown away. Dita Kubin - a brilliant beautiful photographer who's show was all about self portraits. Well, i was not ready for what i would see that night. It was one of the most pleasant life path affirming surprised i had in a long time.

Well, not so long ago.

This morning while waiting for my doctor, i picked up the august edition of Vogue that was just lying around. I flipped through the pages of the "powerful women over 40" issue and said to myself: "yea, if that were only me..."

but what really blew me away, in the light of the whole "self portrait" bender i have been on, telling everybody who will listen that i am re-igniting my pilot light for my documentary about self portraiture, i flip to the center of the mag, past Christy Turlington who looks sinfully beautiful at 41, to the women of 50; and low and behold, a glorious shot of the queen of self portraiture. SImply put - my inspiration, and who got me into this s.p kick - Cindy Sherman.

I almost fell onto the floor.

The whole article talked about how now that she's 55 (she looks like she's 30), the way she is approaching self portraiture is different because she has aged and matured. Giving a new angle to the many visages she steps into. I felt relieved and rejuvenated simultaneously.

It's as if i had asked the universe: "where the fuck am i going with this stuff? Where should i even begin to look!?" and there, as plain as day and as black and white on the pages of this magazine, the woman who moved me so completely that it changed the course of my photography forever. Cindy Sherman.

wow.

Talk about synchronicity.

And the week before, just happened to receive an email about 2Fik's show, without knowing that he was also a self portrait artist, and also today, seeing that my photo that i submitted to "Book about death" had made it onto facebook.

I know, some people might be saying: "n'ya. Small beans that facebook..." but I am #400 in the entries - out of 500. I like round numbers...

but still.

I feel good.

and despite the next little march up the hill of ill health and uncertainty (mom starts her methotrexate, which she is dreading like the plague, and then my switch/upping of my anti depressants, it can start to get ugly and insane; but something is being laid down in the big law of the universe. Soon, this path, a dirt road, will find the materials it needs to become paved.

one stretch of road at a time.

At least now, I know that other people are waiting to go somewhere on it.

If i build it, they will come.

one scoop of asphalt at a time.

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...