/ stills from 'the seventh seal' ingmar bergman 1957
specific scene is 'the knight's first meeting with death'
such a beautiful and profound film

/ ironic blurry photo of work being done by myself as a photo assistant

this is what i was doing today! splicing kodachrome slides and scanning them before editing. photographic subjects scanned included a genetics lab, swans, and a story on george orwell --some of my favorite things

'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

/ to the overwhelming beauty of life & love

/ 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'

/ 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)

/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

/ the silent beauty of family, godchild jamie and my grandfather dziadzi, 2007

'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'

/ things can get messy sometimes when you are making videos, bk 2011

(editing together mad vids right now yo.......)

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

/ peter ilsted, interior with girl reading

/ man ray, noire et blanche, 1926

/ 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

self, syracuse ny 2009

/ so she held me with one hand

and placed the other to my ear,

'one must listen before one can hear'

‎"each time we don't say what we wanna say, we're dying"

/ yoko ono

/ 48-bit glass, artist rendering

inspired by a piece of glass i took from a smashed bank window seen last night near e houston

/ saw the tree of life last night with a cool dude in mnhtn

/ porsche tapiro, 1970

if i ever own a car again in my life, i hope it's this one.

those side doors that open up are completely badass.

god this is a good song

also, i will start posting more x

'as adam early in the morning,

walking forth from the bower refresh'd with sleep,

behold me where i pass, hear my voice, approach,

touch me, touch the palm of your hand to my body as i pass,

be not afraid of my body.'

/ as adam early in the morning, by walt whitman from 'leaves of grass'

/ for the love of the sacred, my sister lauren june 2010 webster ny

Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality. We slowly drove, he knew no haste, And I had put away My labor, and my leisure too, For his civility. We passed the school, where children strove At recess, in the ring; We passed the fields of gazing grain, We passed the setting sun. Or rather, he passed us; The dews grew quivering and chill, For only gossamer my gown, My tippet only tulle. We paused before a house that seemed A swelling of the ground; The roof was scarcely visible, The cornice but a mound. Since then 'tis centuries, and yet each Feels shorter than the day I first surmised the horses' heads Were toward eternity. / 'because i could not stop for death' by emily dickinson

/ my beautiful mother, 18 february 2011 brooklyn ny

/ my beautiful godchild & cousin jamie, summer 2009

so happy its spring/summer

/ from iconoclast, 2008-present

had my camera with me this weekend as i walked around new york, got some new work for this section coming soon!

'we’re born alone, we live alone, we die alone. only through our love and friendship can we create the illusion for the moment that we’re not alone.'

/orson welles, 1915-1985 american director, actor and screenwriter

/ part of an ongoing series on chinatown i'm working on, april 2011

'The whole history of science has been the gradual realization that events do not happen in an arbitrary manner, but that they reflect a certain underlying order, which may or may not be divinely inspired.'

/ stephen hawking, british theoretical physicist, from chapter 8 of 'a brief history of time' 1988