June 28, 2010 § Leave a comment


n. pl. ful·crums or ful·cra

1. The point or support on which a lever pivots.

2. Zoology An anatomical structure that acts as a hinge or a point of support.

3. An agent through which vital powers are exercised.

He called me the fulcrum last night. Looked me in the eye with a slight sway in his step from too much indulgence and pulled me into a warm embrace. I knew it was one of the last for a while. It’s coming to the end, our time together and we are on the brink of picking up our lives where we left off 9 months ago, but picking up with a different set of hands. A little more well-versed in our craft, a little more hopeful with knowing that we are not the only ones who approach life from the other side of a piece of glass and perhaps a little more nervous because for many of us, we have come to this from change. The change that demands that we make a commitment to beliefs which may or may not yield… Beliefs in the power of the image, beliefs in our tenacity, our will. The possibility of survival in what has been labelled as a bleak time for our industry. And perhaps in my relative youth and naivety, my commitment to these beliefs are high – because I know the hearts of the people who have been on this road with me, and I can only say that beyond a doubt, we have vision, a multitude of voices with the power to be heard and above all, we are hungry.

~ For my peers at ICP, it was a pleasure and an honour to learn with you.


Conversation 16

June 27, 2010 § Leave a comment

I think the kids are in trouble
I do not know what all the troubles are for
Give them ice for their fevers
You’re the only thing I ever want anymore
We’ll live on coffee and flowers
Try not to wonder what the weather will be

~ The National (lyrics taken from “Conversation 16”)

In this together

June 26, 2010 § Leave a comment

One of my favourite things:

Meeting photographers who see life in ways that I do not, and show me the magic slices of this great giant pie of human existence I may have missed in the tumult that is my own.

Presenting, the talented Mr McDonnell

© Ross McDonnell

© Ross McDonnell

© Ross McDonnell

© Ross McDonnell

In the making

June 22, 2010 § Leave a comment

Keeping me up late in the night and out of bed way too early:

24 and 28

June 21, 2010 § Leave a comment

Do you remember the way that the night would fold in on itself? I never lay quite so warm in another person’s arms. Do you remember the close proximity of our skin in the cold and our faces pressed tight together, squinting to see the light? Or perhaps I made it all up inside my head.

I missed your words. The ones you used to ply me with… those long messages where we meandered through the day and night, speaking of the things that only we spoke of. I sometimes think that I miss them more than your photographs. A big deal coming from a girl like me.

I missed your words, and the way we used to be.

24 and 28.

Peter Earl McCollough

June 20, 2010 § Leave a comment

© Peter Earl McCollough

slays my eyeballs

© Peter Earl McCollough

© Peter Earl McCollough

© Peter Earl McCollough

Trembling backs

June 17, 2010 § Leave a comment

“Soak up the shimmer, drink in the scent, feel the skin… stop in your tracks and let the sweat roll down your trembling backs.” – Doug Rickard

LOOKbetween 2010
Charlottesville, Virginia

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