Working 9-5 is killing me.
I've been in Cambridge for about a week and half now. School starts a week from yesterday, and the day after that is my birthday. Two decades. Weird, very.
As the subject suggests I've been working full-time at my glorious place of employment: Emerson's TV/Radio/Film Equipment Distribution Center. AKA, a rental house, errr room, rather. There's no one around, and no classes going on, so the only thing we're doing there is inventory, of EVERYTHING. There's wellllllll over 2,000 pieces of equipment. Kicks my ass.
It's weird being here now. There's really no one around, and everyone who's here has someone else that they love/get along with better/prefer/whatever. I'm not sure how that's affecting me, but I've definitely become more withdrawn because of it. It's not a real loneliness, though there are times when all I want to do is talk to someone, or listen to classic rock, REALLY loudly.
Reading helps.
On Sunday I went to a meeting of this artists collective. At first I was kind of apprehensive, thinking it was going to be some sort of weird communist meeting or something, but as it started going I became more and more interested in what everyone had to say. Basically it's a gathering of artists, musicians, thinkers, anyone really who creates, collaborates, and has something to say. Most of the time was spent talking about what projects everyone was working on, and then the state of the world, the media, the country, anything really. By the end I was so inspired to do something, say something, make something real. After one meeting, I actually have almost a full idea for a short film. Check out their website: http://claymonkeycollective.wikispaces.com/
This past July, my dad did a number of portraits of most of my family, and extended family. Pinhole portraits of all of us, me included. It was the first time in my "adult" life that he had taken such a portrait of me. This past Christmas he gave one out to everyone as presents, everyone getting an image of themself. Mine now sits on my desk, staring back into me. I say into me, because never before have I seen a picture of myself so piercing, so poignant, and so masterfully done. My face is turned to a drastic 45 degree angle from the camera, and my eyes, just barely seen through the shadows, gaze back. It is nearly impossible to tell what I am thinking. The blacks are so thick, and each highlight is only a slight kiss. People have told me I'm intimidating, but I never really understood what they meant, until I saw this picture. It's unnerving to think that my father was able to see this, and manifest it on a negative, and then to a page, all without a viewfinder, or real "shutter." I see this, and I know that this is photography, this is the ART of photography, to pull from an existing subject something never seen before, but somehow is there EVERY DAY. My dad is really a genius, and it's a shame that I can only recognize this when he is so far away.
As the subject suggests I've been working full-time at my glorious place of employment: Emerson's TV/Radio/Film Equipment Distribution Center. AKA, a rental house, errr room, rather. There's no one around, and no classes going on, so the only thing we're doing there is inventory, of EVERYTHING. There's wellllllll over 2,000 pieces of equipment. Kicks my ass.
It's weird being here now. There's really no one around, and everyone who's here has someone else that they love/get along with better/prefer/whatever. I'm not sure how that's affecting me, but I've definitely become more withdrawn because of it. It's not a real loneliness, though there are times when all I want to do is talk to someone, or listen to classic rock, REALLY loudly.
Reading helps.
On Sunday I went to a meeting of this artists collective. At first I was kind of apprehensive, thinking it was going to be some sort of weird communist meeting or something, but as it started going I became more and more interested in what everyone had to say. Basically it's a gathering of artists, musicians, thinkers, anyone really who creates, collaborates, and has something to say. Most of the time was spent talking about what projects everyone was working on, and then the state of the world, the media, the country, anything really. By the end I was so inspired to do something, say something, make something real. After one meeting, I actually have almost a full idea for a short film. Check out their website: http://claymonkeycollective.wikispaces.com/
This past July, my dad did a number of portraits of most of my family, and extended family. Pinhole portraits of all of us, me included. It was the first time in my "adult" life that he had taken such a portrait of me. This past Christmas he gave one out to everyone as presents, everyone getting an image of themself. Mine now sits on my desk, staring back into me. I say into me, because never before have I seen a picture of myself so piercing, so poignant, and so masterfully done. My face is turned to a drastic 45 degree angle from the camera, and my eyes, just barely seen through the shadows, gaze back. It is nearly impossible to tell what I am thinking. The blacks are so thick, and each highlight is only a slight kiss. People have told me I'm intimidating, but I never really understood what they meant, until I saw this picture. It's unnerving to think that my father was able to see this, and manifest it on a negative, and then to a page, all without a viewfinder, or real "shutter." I see this, and I know that this is photography, this is the ART of photography, to pull from an existing subject something never seen before, but somehow is there EVERY DAY. My dad is really a genius, and it's a shame that I can only recognize this when he is so far away.