29 June 2011
A cold wind flows over the cornfields;
Fleets of blackbirds ride that ocean.
I want to be in that wild, be
Outdoors, live anywhere in the wind.
I settle down, with my back against
A shed wall where no one can find me.
I stare out at the box elder leaves
Moving in this mysterious water.
What is it that I want? Not money,
Not a large desk, a house with ten rooms.
This is what I want to do: To sit here,
Take no part, be called away by wind.
Fleets of blackbirds ride that ocean.
I want to be in that wild, be
Outdoors, live anywhere in the wind.
I settle down, with my back against
A shed wall where no one can find me.
I stare out at the box elder leaves
Moving in this mysterious water.
What is it that I want? Not money,
Not a large desk, a house with ten rooms.
This is what I want to do: To sit here,
Take no part, be called away by wind.
28 June 2011
//show in munich of my underwater photographs opens in two days!
june 30-end of sept 2011. check it out on the gallery webpage: candela-project.com
25 June 2011
2009:
2010:
2011:
/ my younger brother evan & sister lauren through the years
i took a picture of my bro and sis together in 2009 and it seems every year since (which has only been 3 so far, but still) i have taken a picture of them together. i've included 2009 and 2010 here as well as the two new ones i have for 2011, not sure which one i like of these better x
22 June 2011
jamie at her birthday party, june 2010 webster ny
/ it is 1147pm and i toast to the duality of the loss of innocence and the beauty of life and how you look so peaceful right now sleeping next to me on my bed and blessed blessed blessed that is all that there is and ever will be forever and ever amen and if only you knew the depths of it all......amen amen
| 'My nerves are bad to-night. Yes, bad. Stay with me. | |
| 'Speak to me. Why do you never speak? Speak. | |
| 'What are you thinking of? What thinking? What? | |
| 'I never know what you are thinking. Think.' | |
| I think we are in rats' alley | 115 |
| Where the dead men lost their bones. | |
| 'What is that noise?' | |
| The wind under the door. | |
| 'What is that noise now? What is the wind doing?' | |
| Nothing again nothing. | 120 |
| 'Do | |
| 'You know nothing? Do you see nothing? Do you remember | |
| 'Nothing?' | |
| I remember | |
| Those are pearls that were his eyes.' / excerpt from 'II: a game of chess' from ts eliot's the wasteland |
21 June 2011
16 June 2011
'The personality of the artist, at first a cry or a cadence or a mood and then a fluid and lambent narrative, finally refines itself out of existence, impersonalizes itself, so to speak. The esthetic image in the dramatic form is life purified in and reprojected from the human imagination. The mystery of esthetic, like that of material creation, is accomplished. The artist, like the God of creation, remains within or behind or beyond or above his handiwork, invisible, refined out of existence, indifferent, paring his fingernails.'
/ quote from 'a portrait of the artist as a young man' by james joyce
currently reading this novel now, lots of relevance
14 June 2011
/ posted some new old work on my website - see it here. originally shot this for hong-kong based VISION magazine as an editorial, not sure if it was ever published or not. it is entitled 'alpha' as i was reading about witchcraft at the time i shot this and got very into the idea of the alpha state of mind which is an ideal, relaxed mindset used for guided healing imagery. model credit to zebadiah keneally, november 2010 brooklyn ny
//currently feeling like absolute death and researching the concept of rebirth for an article i'm writing in coordination with the publication of my underwater series for a french magazine. rebirth is a very moving concept to study - lots of insightful ideas and life-altering awarenesses.
"Buddhist meditation teachers suggest that observation reveals consciousness as a sequence of conscious moments rather than a continuum of awareness. Each moment is an experience of an individual mind-state such as a thought, a memory, a feeling or a perception. A mind-state arises, exists and, being impermanent, ceases, following which the next mind-state arises. Thus the consciousness of a sentient being can be seen as a continuous series of birth and death of these mind-states. Rebirth is the persistence of this process." / from 'rebirth as cycle of consciousness'
12 June 2011
/ goodbyes by pablo neruda
found this audio recording of myself reading the poem goodbyes by pablo neruda last night on my computer. i recorded it in july of 2009 and have always been moved by the poem. (note: the video portion of this is irrelevant, it was just faster to upload this as a movie file than audio)
11 June 2011
/and then she posed the final question,
the answer to which could set me free:
'do you ever wonder what will be the very last,
fading image that your eyes ever see?'
img hvy: all taken between 2007 to present
top to bottom: my driveway in webster ny, bridge in philadelphia, school in webster ny, playground in webster ny, spark art space syracuse ny, grand canyon, gravestone new hampshire
10 June 2011
'this morning, i was sitting
on the magic shitpot when i saw
a daydream in the mirror:
in the room where i live, sleep and work
the picture window came unhinged
i was hanging on as it flew off
my chest against the plane of light propelling it upwards
then i slide into the albumen of dawn
and rest, like an egg, in the palm
of a transparent hand
two fingers take me
slip me inside, to the center...
i don't cough, don't drown but go
back to sleep where i find
the kisses left in another dream...'
/ antonio porta, la cheirasca, may 17 1980, from the book 'kisses from another dream'
08 June 2011
07 June 2011
every day you play with the light of the universe.
subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water.
you are more than this white head that i hold tightly
as a cluster of fruit, every day, between my hands.
you are like nobody since i love you.
let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
who writes your name in letter of smoke among the stars of the south?
oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.
...
how you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,
my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.
so many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,
and over our heads the grey light unwinds in turning fans.
my words rained over you, stroking you.
a long time i have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
i go so far as to think that you own the universe.
i will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
i want
to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
/ excerpt from every day you play by pablo neruda
01 June 2011
/ i am currently working with both a non-profit foundation and a hospice in new york city to put together a class for teenagers who are going through bereavement. the class involves photography and writing/reflecting on experiences.
it will be held both in a classroom environment and have a strong virtual presence as well. its a bit similar to the camera project, which i began in 2008, however, this project has a specific focus of guiding teenage youth involved in the hospice system through loss more gracefully by implementing photography as an outlet. the program has taken quite a few months to coordinate and is just about ready to go.
if you live in new york and are interested in becoming involved in any way, please send me an e-mail at erin@icanfreezetime.com
thanks x
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