Archive for January, 2014

Promises are meant to be broken. Here are a couple Polaroids I made over the summer of 2013.

the PromiseI’ll end this quick post with an extract from Nan Goldin’s photography book “The devil’s playground”;

With the second drink, at the restaurant,
 holding hands on the bare table,
 we are at it again, renewing our promise 
 to kill each other. You are drinking gin,
 night-blue juniper berry
 dissolving in our body, I am drinking Fumé,
 chewing its fragrant dirt and smoke, we are
 taking on earth, we are part soil already,
 and wherever we are, we are also in our bed,
 fitted, naked, closely
 along each other, half passed out,
 after love, drifting back and forth
 across the the border of consciousness,
 our bodies buoyant, clasped. 

Your hand tightens on the table. You’re a little afraid
 I’ll chicken out. What you do not want
 is lie in a hospital bed for a year after a stroke,
without being able to to think or die, you do not want
 to be tied to a chair like your prim grandmother, cursing.
 The room is dim around us, ivory globes, pink curtains
 bound at the waist – and outside,
 a weightless, luminous, lifted up summer twilight.
 I tell you you do not know me if you think I will not kill you.
 Think how we have floated together
 eye to eye, nipple to nipple,
 sex to sex, the halves of a creature
 drifting up to the lip of matter
 and over it – you know me from the bright, blood-flecked  delivery room,
 if a lion had you in its jaws I would attack it,

if the ropes binding your soul are on your own wrist, I will cut them.

till soon ~

– D

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Here’s another large 14×15″ Polaroid entitled “Fireflies” for obvious reasons.

Ever since I saw the Japanese movie Otaru no Haka I’ve been obssessed with these glowing insects. Last summer I went on my first American Road trip, I will always remember the great space, lights and mostly the night sky filled up with stars. There is nothing to make you feel more insignificant  than drawing your head back in the immensity of the sky.

I managed to catch only one firefly that summer. We danced and drink by the fire and it was one of the best experience in my life. Very American, I felt like I was in a Levy’s commercial.

One day I hope someone will catch me a bunch of fireflies. And we will release them and marvel at them just like in the film.

Fireflies

 

So of course when I find out about a song called Fireflies I just add it to my favorite playlist. It is also a good song by Stillcorners.

Howl in the light lost summer night
Everyone wants to dance in the firelight
The night as long as we like
All the innocents of youth in the firelight

No moon rays catch em while you can
Everyone wants to fly with the fireflies

Heads of the night, a thousand lights
Moments like these burn in the firelight
We’ll stay as long as we like
Days of our youth lost in the firelight

No moon rays catch em while you can
Everyone wants to fly with the fireflies

~till next time

– D

Here’s another large 11×17 Polaroid, I’m really enjoying working on larger scale, it allows me to had more detail to the composition. Also are enclosed a series of 3 slightly larger Polaroid, medium size we shall say.

I’m a light sleeper, I always fall asleep after my lover and wake up before them, and I’m often awoken in the middle of the night by dreams, or nightmares. Which give me plenty of time to look upon the person resting peacefully next to me. I often envy their mindlessness.

You were just a bad dream

Sometimes I feel like my mask of sanity is about to slip. I have too much imagination and I’m haunted by anxiety dreams which I can only relieve by turning them into drawings, paintings or any kind of artwork . Working keeps my mind at peace. Otherwise it’s always running, I play pictures in my head and  they create films I wish I could spray on paper.

Summer Blues

It’s getting late so I’ll close on a beautiful poem by Paul Verlaine about a recurrent dream;

I often have this dream, strange, penetrating,
Of a woman, unknown, whom I love, who loves me,
And who’s never, each time, the same exactly,
Nor, exactly, different: and knows me, is loving.
 
Oh how she knows me, and my heart, growing
Clear for her alone, is no longer a problem,
For her alone: she alone understands, then,
How to cool the sweat of my brow with her weeping.
 
[…]
 
Her eyes are the same as a statue’s eyes,
And in her voice, distant, serious, mild,
The tone of dear voices, those that have died.

Good night.

~ D

 

Here is a large 11 by 15″ Polaroid and a series of snapshot of regular sized Polaroids.

I’ve been reflecting about the gender issues recently and dynamics in relationship.

Our culture made us believe in the prince charming, but what about the princess charming? Male is always on top of things, and ironically when he encounters a woman who meets all the standards he could dream for, if she happens to be more than he can actually bring himself to be, the man feels emasculated. Now that seems unfair to me. If a woman meets a man who’s talented, beautiful, rich and in love with her (to simplify), that’s perfect. If it’s the other way around, the man feels like he needs to compete with the woman and must if not equal her, surpass her. It’s hard to accept the change of dynamics. And a man who is earning less than his partner still feels inadequate next to her. The men who accept it tends to be opportunists, or gigolos (or labeled as such). But it shouldn’t have to be. Financial status shouldn’t be important in a relationship. But is the world really ready for a dynamic where women earn the money and the men help at home with the kids? Women became independent, but there are more single women raising kids on their own than ever. It seems it just made some men more self centered and confused. Women don’t need them anymore for financial support, so what is their place? Where can they feel important? Why not see your partner success as your success and simply bring yourself up?

Young people often forget relationships come with up and downs, and one person complete the other on certain things they wouldn’t be able to achieve by themselves. It’s in hardship you can build yourself, and if someone can be on your side to support you by simply being there for you, then it’s beautiful. Unfortunately, the youth tends to focus on the unimportant, and the self.

Love is about caring for someone more than yourself, not impress them with what you have. Love is to appreciate what they give you and give back any way you can. Caring for what they truly are, not what they represent.

Last Shot

These snapshots type give nice movement to a sequence. More of those to come…

snapshot

Some people will stick with you forever as a fond or disappointing memory. But there is nothing like sorrow to get fueled with inspiration. It’s usually in the darkest, or brightest moments you find emotions strong enough to sing with your very own voice.

I’ll close on an extract from the Black Prince;

There is nothing quite like the dead dull feel of a failed marriage. Nor is there anything like one’s hatred for an ex-spouse. (How can such a person dare to be happy?) I cannot credit those who speak of ‘friendship’ in such a context. I lived in years with a sense of things irrevocably soiled and spoiled, it could give suddenly such a sad feel to the world sometimes. I could not liberate myself from her mind. This had nothing to do with love. Those who have suffered these sort of bondage will understand. […]  Out of sigh out of mind is a charter of human survival. Not so Christian, she was ubiquitous: her consciousness was rapacious, her thoughts could damage, passing like noxious rays through space and time. Her remarks were memorable. Only good old America cured her for me in the end. I put her away with a tedious man in a tedious and very distant town and was able to feel that she had died. What a relief!

~ Iris Murdoch – The Black Prince (1975)

till soon~

D –

Here are some more Polaroids, I always like to do series on sleeping positions. Or the octopus grip, as I affectionately call it.  Sometimes it’s the simple things that make you the most happy. Snuggling in the morning, holding hands in the streets, sharing a late ride on the train. Unfortunately lots of people overlook these moments and can never find happiness in the little things that are sometimes so simple to give.

snuggle in Purple snuggle in Blue

It’s getting late and I’m getting sleepy so I’ll close on a Verlaine’s poem;

          (Poèmes Saturniens: Mélancholia V)

 

              For the wars of love a field of feathers’

                                                                                Gongora

 

With sweetness, with sweetness, with sweetness!

Calm this feverish rapture a little, my charmer.

Even at its height, you see, sometimes, a lover

Needs the quiet forgetfulness of a sister.

 

Be languid: make your caresses sleep-bringers,

Like your cradling gazes and your sighs.

Ah, the jealous embrace, the obsessive spasm,

Aren’t worth a deep kiss, even one that lies!

 

But you say to me, child: in your dear heart of gold

Wild desire goes sounding her cry.

Let her trumpet away, she’s far too bold!

 

Put your brow to my brow, your hand on my hand,

Make me those promises you’ll break by and by,

Let’s weep till the dawn, my little firebrand!