(no subject)
the semester is over and i can finally take a deep breath of peppercorn and eucalyptus california air. for the first time i feel like i can reconcile my two homes now, taking things back from one and applying them to the other harmoniously.
today i looked through a couple big boxes full of family photographs, some recent and some dating back to the 1950's. They were all so beautiful and weird and different... there were some of my grandma and grandpa when they first bought a house together, my mom and aunt playing as little girls and then later on as beautiful, long-legged young women... my parents' wedding, my brother as a white-haired little boy, camping trips by the lake with my whole family, and skiing trips where we all consistently wore ridiculous neon snowpants...
they sound ordinary, but seeing snapshots of individual moments and moods and personalities within these larger events make them extraordinary.
there were some great ones of my grandfather, as a young man in the czech republic, very handsome and tall in his trenchcoat and hat, posing like a pro right on the streets. i cried spontaneously upon seeing these. strange, i never even cried much when he died, and he was right there in front of me then, crumpled up like a leaf in winter. i think maybe sometimes it's harder to see someone die when you knew them at a time when they were younger and so much more full of life. it seems unfair that that vitality is taken away, and so slowly and quietly.
i think i might do a series of paintings and/or drawings based on some of these photos. maybe they won't mean anything to anyone but me, but i suppose that's all that really matters.
today i looked through a couple big boxes full of family photographs, some recent and some dating back to the 1950's. They were all so beautiful and weird and different... there were some of my grandma and grandpa when they first bought a house together, my mom and aunt playing as little girls and then later on as beautiful, long-legged young women... my parents' wedding, my brother as a white-haired little boy, camping trips by the lake with my whole family, and skiing trips where we all consistently wore ridiculous neon snowpants...
they sound ordinary, but seeing snapshots of individual moments and moods and personalities within these larger events make them extraordinary.
there were some great ones of my grandfather, as a young man in the czech republic, very handsome and tall in his trenchcoat and hat, posing like a pro right on the streets. i cried spontaneously upon seeing these. strange, i never even cried much when he died, and he was right there in front of me then, crumpled up like a leaf in winter. i think maybe sometimes it's harder to see someone die when you knew them at a time when they were younger and so much more full of life. it seems unfair that that vitality is taken away, and so slowly and quietly.
i think i might do a series of paintings and/or drawings based on some of these photos. maybe they won't mean anything to anyone but me, but i suppose that's all that really matters.