November 29, 2011 § Leave a comment
“All of us are trapped in our skins and drowning in gravity.”
June 6, 2011 § Leave a comment
If I were a cinnamon peeler
I would ride your bed
and leave the yellow bark dust
on your pillow.
Your breasts and shoulders would reek
you could never walk through markets
without the profession of my fingers
floating over you. The blind would
stumble certain of whom they approached
though you might bathe
under rain gutters, monsoon.
Here on the upper thigh
at this smooth pasture
neighbour to your hair
or the crease
that cuts your back. This ankle.
You will be known among strangers
as the cinnamon peeler’s wife.
I could hardly glance at you
never touch you
– your keen nosed mother, your rough brothers.
I buried my hands in saffron, disguised them
over smoking tar,
helped the honey gatherers…
When we swam once
I touched you in water
and our bodies remained free,
you could hold me and be blind of smell.
You climbed the bank and said
this is how you touch other women
the grass cutter’s wife, the lime burner’s daughter.
And you searched your arms
for the missing perfume
what good is it
to be the lime burner’s daughter
left with no trace
as if not spoken to in the act of love
as if wounded without the pleasure of a scar.
you belly to my hands
in the dry air and said
I am the cinnamon
peeler’s wife. Smell me.
~ Michael Ondaatje
March 27, 2011 § Leave a comment
My sister, she photographs too. She roams and laughs with her young Italian lover and their friends by an Australian shore. Clicks on no more than a whim. Purity and pale sun in March.
November 18, 2010 § 1 Comment
MISE EN SCENE:
BOUFFEE DELIRANTE AIGUE
J’AI LEVE A TETE ET J’AI VU PERSONNE
(Arrangement of a scene:
thunderstorm of madness
I raised my head and I saw no one)
Few photographers have moved me and captivated me in their vision as much as Justin Maxon. If you see his earlier work and the places where his mind has been, to the places where he is reaching for, the age-old dichotomy and struggle of good vs evil, war vs peace, dark vs light becomes clear. Recently selected to participate at the World Press Photo Masterclass, Justin set for himself a new task – to break through the madness and the thunderstorm and to take solace for a moment in the sun. I remember speaking with him for hours about this… the idea of filling your life with the anguish of others because it’s all the reality you know, or perhaps… something different. Perhaps it’s just as important to balance the darkness with its lighter counterpart, to photograph with sincerity and heartbreaking earnestness all that you might have hoped for, all that you might want to live for. It takes enormous courage to hope. I’ve found that fewer and fewer people are willing to openly throw off the mantle of cynicism for fear of being vulnerable and ridiculed, for fear of losing street cred. Justin hopes… and if he has fear of it, I have yet to see him succumb… and we, as his audience, are better for it.