(no subject)
You know, as I was saying to Mauree down there, this journal is the only thing that keeps me writing in my otherwise exclusively visual (and maybe verbal) education; it woud be nice if I could work up the energy to write about the small beautiful things in my life again, even if I cant be bothered to explain the larger exploits and dramas.
So, I am really thrilled with my fashion photography class.
I am not even supposed to be in it, lacking total photography experience. But I elbowed my way in, bossily overturning the moronic bureacracy and red tape of our incompetant administrators! and so far it seems to be possibly the most articulate and stimulating class here at Parsons Paris of mediocrety: the teacher is by leaps and bounds fascinating, and by the nature of the medium it is challenging for me.
The teacher regails of with tales in the fashion industry and trials of working with models; I could not shut up about every weird thing I learned chez Dior; and we finished the class disecting the nature of Vogue today, the trend of doll-like and sexually unthreatening models.
I was impressed with smoe of the work people brought in. Though not by any means pleased with my own efforts, talking about in (the first formal!) critique today made me appreciate one of my self-portraits in a new way...
keeping in mind the colours in this version are stupidly too red for some reason.
a quote: "it's the sixties, you're a san francisco fair, you've taken a hell of alot of drugs and now you're in a parrallel reality. It's Julianne Moore in boogie nights! (...) It transcends the moment it was taken."
gosh, actual insight, i think.
So, I am really thrilled with my fashion photography class.
I am not even supposed to be in it, lacking total photography experience. But I elbowed my way in, bossily overturning the moronic bureacracy and red tape of our incompetant administrators! and so far it seems to be possibly the most articulate and stimulating class here at Parsons Paris of mediocrety: the teacher is by leaps and bounds fascinating, and by the nature of the medium it is challenging for me.
The teacher regails of with tales in the fashion industry and trials of working with models; I could not shut up about every weird thing I learned chez Dior; and we finished the class disecting the nature of Vogue today, the trend of doll-like and sexually unthreatening models.
I was impressed with smoe of the work people brought in. Though not by any means pleased with my own efforts, talking about in (the first formal!) critique today made me appreciate one of my self-portraits in a new way...
keeping in mind the colours in this version are stupidly too red for some reason.
a quote: "it's the sixties, you're a san francisco fair, you've taken a hell of alot of drugs and now you're in a parrallel reality. It's Julianne Moore in boogie nights! (...) It transcends the moment it was taken."
gosh, actual insight, i think.