September 7, 2013 § Leave a comment
Today I tackle a 70km ride. Last week was around 60km, and it was hard. Overcast today, a suitable feeling.
The other day I saw a plane disappearing into the pale peach and powder blue clouds of a sunset. Last night it was the scorching lights coming through the night-time clouds. Roaring overhead.
Spent time with Lea yesterday, a beautiful woman I met in Iceland, but whom sometimes calls Australia her home. We talked about art, past relationships, art some more, family and of course… the lure of Iceland and the Vikings….
I better up and shower, at 8.30am or so it already feels like so much time has passed.
August 1, 2013 § 1 Comment
July 19, 2013 § Leave a comment
Going to Melbourne this weekend. It is supposed to rain the whole time and be cold. In a way I am looking forward to that. I am going to see a bunch of gallery spaces for some show plans. One gallery has a strange floor which I am hoping may provide some installation inspiration.
I got a test on Wednesday for my ITP. Came back at just shy of 80 for my platelet count (normal is 150-200 and danger zone probably under 40) – so it seems the gluten free is going well to stabalise. Still bruising a bit but it’s not as mottled so the doc says it seems to be settling down.
It feels like I have been doing a lot lately.
July 7, 2013 § 3 Comments
July 3, 2013 § Leave a comment
June 27, 2013 § Leave a comment
I opened a book tonight. In it I found flowers I had saved, pressed between the sheets. Found flowers again found in America, wildflowers. Yellow, yellow, purple, maybe a muted green.
In the book also I had written:
Vespertine. Attenuated. Alluvial. Coalesces. Penumbral. Redolent.
Time becomes ecstatic. Temporal expansion. Revelation that eludes temporal time. Sediment of misery. Indifference.
Sediment of misery. That stuck with me. It felt murky, and unlike words I would ever say. Where would I have experienced such a sediment. It must have been some American inspiration, words to help me see what others had seen. Anyway. Sally Mann, those are her words. Describing the pull of her images and process in Deep South.
I sometimes worry photography is too realistic, too hyperreal. With digital and all. I m iss the exchange with light, the murkiness, the unabsolute. Using time and intensity and pitch and chemicals and silver and shadow and forbearance, filters, glass, aspects of light as the day passes, accidents of chemistry, accidents of mechanics. Age of materials, indecision, sabotage. Which make something real of the moment, unique, manipulated, tools and materials. 8 hours to get that image right in the darkroom. Alone with the image, with my hands on it, watching it bolt red hot from lens to paper. Feeding the chemicals. Looking for the grain. Plus then minus the magenta (strongest) or yellow (weakest).
Breathing all the time. Camera breaths, darkroom breaths, print breaths.
Sediment of my memory.