Burn the Sun…

 

 

I painted a photo of your face in the water.

It kept me alive long enough to drown in my own arrogance.

Its just you and my fever,  blistering like a planet burning just to save itself from the pain.

I free myself in the depths of your soul, but that was also a lie so I’ll kept a piece of your sorrow and fly like a bird to the sun.

(models:  May and Christy Ibrahim, shot in Hernando Beach, Florida on August 15, 2016.)

@Relic_Imagery

 

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CREATIVE EVOLUTION VS. FEEDING

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I haven’t just openly vented my feelings lately and I feel like it may be time to do so.  A lot of things have happened lately.  Most recently,  I was honored and proud to be asked to do a solo exhibit in downtown St. Petersburg. (on display at the blue goose till August).  So go see the work if you are local to that area.

I am a person who deals with depression.  It comes on like a train, but a quiet one.  I feel its pressure before I see it.  I resist it like a child resists sleep.  So there is that.

The creative choke, god this is what I want to talk about.  I am so fucking sick and tired of seeing the same shit over and over.  AND to be even more disgusted I have contributed to the very shit I am sick of seeing.   If I see one more white dress, one more bath tub, one more freckled face in sunlight I’m not just going to  scream I may puke and scream and no one wants that.  Did I offend you?  Good.   I offend myself in the same breath.

When I was just starting on this journey I wanted it all.  I wanted to shoot everything, everything my excited mind saw over and over.  I didn’t care if it had been done a million times IT WAS MINE.  I didn’t care that it was poorly planned, I was living in the moment and excited and loving it all.  But it was a thin membrane… an all sugar diet (so-to-speak)

Photography to me has become what hot topic is.  I cant look anymore.  I watched an inspirational video yesterday because I was hoping to be inspired and I cried like a baby.  I wasn’t sure why so I laughed at myself, like a maniac.    What the fuck is wrong with me?  Why would this beautiful face excited about some fundamental photographical experiment make me cry?  I imagine its because I’m hungry.  I want to feel.  I want to break and all I see is white dresses and bath tubs and sun lit bodies on cliffs.    I’ve never been a pack animal.   I don’t like the influence of popular culture, yet I am too engrained and immersed.   You don’t realize being a shade of off white in an ocean of white wont make you different it makes you more of the same.  What do “YOU” have to say?  are you saying anything?  Am I?

I want to create things No one likes.    I fight with myself about the ideas of this pretense also.  So don’t get me wrong I get it.  I get that we are all chewing on the same dead whale in the ocean.  I get that we are all vastly under valued and viewed like a series of paint by number artists.  Its not real, its not anything?  So if its keeping me alive and its nothing then what is that?

What are we?  Artists?  I’ll scoff now.  What the fuck are we even getting at?  Maybe they’re right?  how is the same photograph done a million different ways art?  It is to the person creating it, yes but that’s like taking a photo of a photo and writing your name on it?

I’m jaded…. I am burned out.  I am creatively apathetic.  I have a disinterest in the human aspect of the world and yet fascinated.  My subconscious is far more voracious than any human body can show me.  I sit across tables from people, looking into them… waiting for something to happen.   Nothing occurs.  Empty metronomes vibrating.  The world is holding my pulse in its teeth.  I’m praying to shatter the keep.

I am crazy. Whatever that means.  Ill be that if you want.  Whatever may be, I will be.

I don’t want to document the world I want to create something and my frustration is that I’m not.  I’m doing nothing.  This is pure self loathing, not some persecution of others doing what they feel to do.  I guess I understand their desire, I once didn’t care either.  Just chewing at the meat of the world and tasting nothing.

Its a creative evolution vs feeding that I’m interested in.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hard Arrows

It was magic how the world felt knowing you’re in it.  You can close your eyes and possess nothing but the quick push of the universe in every beat.  The earth feels like a hard arrow.  Like a pressure point; like a lie we wanted.  Like a hand on mine against a burning fire I never want to move.  I want to die in its fire storm.  I want your eyes to watch mine collapse into you and know for all things we are temporary.   

 

ALFIE

I got to spend the afternoon shooting with a new subject being, creating. We shot in an abandoned house located in central Florida.  This was a great experience and I’m happy to share them with you. Designer Amanda GAYE Smith.

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Never

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You’ll never come.
Never dream.
Never burn like I burn to be.
Never see, never mean what it’s meant to me. 
Never feel. 
Nevermore and never real.


Here

I don’t have the ability to reason with the black places my heart visits.  Nor dance on the lonely tree tops of knowing where I’ve been.  Human beings crushing against their own need to find homes inside each other. Planting seeds so the plants notice them.  Catching wind drifts so the birds will teach them. I stand atop the Lonely trees. I see you from before you began and I will be here when you finish the dance with your false gods.  Every woman.  Every sunlit leaf… every heart.

I am here…. Suffering the truth…
Calling home the way I have gone without you.

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