November 28, 2011 § Leave a comment
Siem Reap, Cambodia
We cruise along in the wet heat, doubled over in laughter. No traffic lights, the vehicles govern themselves and we make do. From slideshows to gallery openings to peer reviews to spicy bowls of noodle soup, to long nights of pool and beer, we weave through the dusty streets, navigating potholes and trying not to marvel too much at the scenes floating by and causing an accident. I bring Miss Adrienne Grunwald with me and she falls in love and tries to come up with ways to stay.
I see and hold my far-flung friends and we share stories. The weird, sad, freaky, side-splittingly hilarious, private ones. Not the ones in pictures. This is so precious to me. My favourite time of the year.
November 3, 2011 § Leave a comment
I was recently asked to submit photographs to Das Magazin on “my” New York. The raucous cacophony that I pass through like a tiny tornado whenever my travel schedule will allow me. The enormity that I navigate filled with its beauty, crazy, concrete angles and deep rumbling underbelly. I feel lucky to call it a home… albeit a second one…
July 26, 2011 § Leave a comment
A singularity. Our personal universes, wholly consuming, vast beyond perception, revolutions performed around a single axis – I.
I am amazed at the haze, opaque nothingness that separates my world from yours. Thick like a forest fire. We stand parallel but unable to see what the other sees. Is that why photography never gets old? Is that why we write? A transference of thought and vision… A continuous and futile journey towards the mind and experiences of our parallel and eternally separate companions.
What if we stopped? Would I forget that there was another way to see the world? Would I feel like my own perspectives were less real? Temporal, fleeting as the mortal coil. Traversing our life spans, each wrapped in our own cloaks of smoky trials and tribulations, unable to cross over, reach out and touch the other.
July | 2011
July 20, 2011 § Leave a comment
June 23, 2011 § Leave a comment
1. Can art only ever really be experienced in its most transcendent form alone, in solitude, without the interference of another person’s intrusive thoughts?
2. Is love possibly the highest form of art, unspeakable, undefinable, eternally analysed, able to move vast emotional and mental landscapes, intrinsically experiential?
3. Does that mean that when you experience love in its highest form, your communion is not shared, but experienced alone simultaneously? Each within their own epidermic cave, finger painting their obsession and history on the scarred, hollowed out walls, lighting safe fires against the night?
May 9, 2011 § Leave a comment