31 March 2011

/ lust, chinatown ny 13 march 2011
Dear March -- Come in --
How glad I am --
I hoped for you before --

Put down your Hat --
You must have walked --
How out of Breath you are --
Dear March, how are you, and the Rest --
Did you leave Nature well --
Oh March, Come right up stairs with me --
I have so much to tell --

I got your Letter, and the Birds --
The Maples never knew that you were coming -- till I called
I declare -- how Red their Faces grew --
But March, forgive me -- and
All those Hills you left for me to Hue --
There was no Purple suitable --
You took it all with you --

Who knocks? That April.
Lock the Door --
I will not be pursued --
He stayed away a Year to call
When I am occupied --
But trifles look so trivial
As soon as you have come

That Blame is just as dear as Praise
And Praise as mere as Blame --

/ emily dickinson

20 March 2011

/ junya watanabe
working on making some clothes like this, especially far right
beautiful beyond words

"truth and reality in art do not arise until you no longer understand what you are doing and are capable of but nevertheless sense a power that grows in proportion to your resistance. creativity takes courage."

/ henri matisse

/ i
will make it through because i am strong.
sneak peek of an ever-evolving body of work, brooklyn ny 2011

/ vesuvius came up in my itunes, music from a friend, caught my attention/ seemed really relevant because i'm reading the volcano lover by susan sontag, which is also really relevant to me right now, and i wonder - hm, are these things coincidences? would i have even noticed this song if i wasn't reading the book? what am i to make of this, what am i to make of this..

17 March 2011

'one should really use the camera as though tomorrow you'd be stricken blind'

/ dorothea lange

13 March 2011

/ e.m. ciorcan, 1911-1995, from
on the heights of despair

/ chinatown, compassion
a couple screenshots from todays journey

10 March 2011

/ anish kapoor,
past, present, future 2006

06 March 2011

this song, this song..
'If I ventured in the slipstream
Between the viaducts of your dream
Where immobile steel rims crack
And the ditch in the back roads stop

Could you find me?
Would you kiss-a my eyes?
To lay me down In silence easy
To be born again, To be born again

From the far side of the ocean
If I put the wheels in motion
And I stand with my arms behind me
And I'm pushin' on the door

Could you find me?
Would you kiss-a my eyes?
To lay me down In silence easy
To be born again,
to be born again'

/ van morrison, astral weeks
sent these lyrics by a new friend recently, strikingly relevant to my current situation and also some of my past photography work. thank you to her

the camera project
two photographs by karen, age 10, tokyo japan

04 March 2011

/ truth love, me+z, january 2011 brooklyn ny

03 March 2011

/ my friend tristan smith, writer 20 february 2011 brooklyn ny
"the world is not respectable; it is mortal, tormented, confused, deluded forever; but it is shot through with beauty, with love, with glints of courage and laughter; and in these, the spirit blooms timidly, and struggles to the light amid the thorns."

/ george santayana, author of 'the sense of beauty', an intelligent guy
'come away, o human child: to the waters and the wild with a fairy, hand in hand, for the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.'

/ william butler yeats, irish poet