Mending, amending and re-mending my ways
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pinned, sewn, photographed, printed, sewn and scanned. And the teeny nearly invisible spot of red on the right index finger is a bead of blood. I managed to stab myself. I considered squeezing some onto the glass for the melodrama but passed on such contrived excitement.
Post-Carravagio, uncertain angel askew in dark room. light sensitivity. I am fungus. I am cave of sporing cotton.
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a visit to Perth, thinking about the sense of depth created by the use of vertical lines and horizontal lines. The docent said that Mondrian's paintings were of landscapes, extending Pissarro's directional blots of color. Huh.
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It's grimy too. I spent 4 or 5 hours cleaning the storage locker. Sorting thru stuff that even didn't get unboxed in the last 3 moves.
The floor is now navigable. I look like a miner. I talk and dust comes out.
I have some catching up to do with 365. Photos taken but not processed.
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Eyes on the horizon, despite all the ducks up.
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You gotta be shades.
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when the giraffes on your shoulders want a word with the inner cyclops, it's time for another nap.
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On the bit of railway tracks that I walked as a kid, dreaming of hoboing it to lands far away and never coming back. My hobo stick handkerchief is silk and I'm wearing my Guatemala Stove Project t-shirt. The black of it was sweltering in the heat. Almost too hot to believe. Even almost too hot for make-believe.
Think I'll act like a bald man and wear a hat until my hair grows back.
Oh, was that supposed to carpe diem?
But now what do I do with this extra dime on my hands?
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Was going to do the idea with a carp photoshopped as a hat but that would just be overly complex and obscure.
I'm trying a new self-portrait method. Set camera on manual focus and video, then filmed and did a screen capture for a still image. Could take off the residues of the processing but kinda like them as a frame.
Maybe it's better not straight off of the screen? Think it makes a parallel story of making-of which distracts from the simplicity of the image.
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