Thriftwares

Today I went out to Syracuse to work for this girl Holly. She's real sweet and runs an ebay store called Thriftwares. She has incredible style and some retardedly fucking awesome clothes. This looks to be a promising relationship. Like seriously. My eyes just lit up with ideas as (as she put it) I posed as her Life Size Barbie. I really love not having to do anything with the clothes situation. And to top it off she's super cute and I will be shooting her if I have to peer-pressure her 5'2'' ass! Dammit.

I'm anxious to get down to the City again. I feel like right now my life is more down there than it is here. I spend most of my time waiting to live my life properly, enjoyably. I feel most of the time I'm just trying to fill empty days, trying to hurry those days which only make them longer. I've never been so productive. When I'm not shooting or processing or printing, I'm writing or reading or cleaning. Or talking. I do a lot of talking between ten pm and two am. But that's when I'm back in a Brooklyn Kitchen next to an open window and, having wrapped my naked body in a blanket, trying not to chain smoke. Unfortunately pale skin, red wine and smoke looks so damn appealing to me. But I'm really in my kitchen, five hours away.

Speaking about aesthetic pleasures:

I keep thinking about that Avedon video that both James and Jerome showed me. Avedon talks about using his photography as a kind of therapy. Something about "it" coming out of his system and onto the page. I can't stop thinking about this, and that is the way I'll be attacking my semester. Taking my frustrations with my relationship with my my sister. Taking my desires. Taking my pains. Why wouldn't I be doing this? Silly, that this should make such an impact on my thoughts, considering it's a natural way to view your art. I guess that's the problem; I have a hard time thinking myself an artist.

Which somehow leads me to thinking about showing my work to my Seminar class. (Which is the class where you work on your "final" portfolio.) No one in that class has seen any of my work. I was shaking and couldn't look at the students as I showed my prints. I'm a total attention seeker, but hate crowds or public-esque speaking. I especially hate judgment. They had nice things to say, and since then, they're nicer. I like nice. I even passed around a stack of Polaroids, including the nude black and whites of Sarah.

Science of Light was fun the other day. We (like always) were doing some experiment with the 4x5 and I (like always) was running our group and got pissed off at the camera because it wasn't listening to me. Of course I was trying to do some complicated Schime-en-floogle thing and had to fuck with both the front and the back but had the little boxes on too much of a tilt which is bullshit cause I should have been able to do it anyway.

None the less. I finally got it and sat down with the question sheet to finish the lab, letting whoever else clean up, and still fuming. I actually quite like being the leader of that group. It gives me this lovely power where I've dedicated Film Boy and Measure Girl and Recorder. I hold out my hand and snap at Film boy and demand Measure Girl to check that those two boxes are twelve and a half centimeters away from each other and it's all quite satisfying.

Even after getting pissed off, it was this wonderfully fulfilling pissed off. If that makes sense. I like throwing random stuff and scowling and bitching.

And it's nice because no one gets irritated at me because they know their lab will come back with perfect scores. That and I'm not mean to them, I keep it entertaining, and explain to Kelly what she doesn't understand.




So seriously, I have a wardrobe stylist.



And I get to see James on Sunday.
HIGHLIGHT!! (in pink)






James cleaned up some tidbits on this cause he's fucking anal. ;)
The more I look at it, the more I love it.

B&H

My grandparents sent me money to get photo supplies. I dedicated this semester to 50 sheets of 11x15 in both colour and black and white. That's quite the ambitious printing plans, there, Meg.

People are starting to double up on studio times because there's not a lot of time slots. I rush in there on Mondays and get Saturday 2-4 so far three weeks in a row. Two people wanted to sign up with me and I refused. No thankyou.

Now all I have to hope for is that Jaime doesn't bail on me on Saturday. I'll be real pissed.

Tomorrow is dedicated to printing! Yay!

Utica is different with you

James came to Utica. I took photos of him and him and I in the studio (35mm, 120 and 4x5 but NOT digital) it was fun and I'll be getting the 4x5 back tomorrow morning. Very excited. I love love love working with the 4x5, though that was the first time I took a portrait with one. I love cameras.

I went to the school's lab to develop some 35mm and 120 b&w... mind you I have a little over an hour when I get tehre before I have to leave. I get a 5-roll developing tank for 3 35mm and one 120. Spent like 20 minutes struggling to get the 120 on, I've never rolled one before. It was a serious pain in my ass. So 10 minutes to roll the other 35mm and I had the labtech hold my tank for later. I was way frustrated over the 120. I hope it wasn't the roll of James cause I'm pretty sure I fucked that roll up. I tried to be patient and gentle....


my computer's running out of battery, I'm at some cafe and didn't bring my power cord. Damn addictions. Only have one more hour to waste before I can head back to school. I want to print something to be proud of, dammit!!

Bore-dumb

I am seldom actually bored. But when it comes to working at a bar from seven until two am, with barely any customers and spending the majority of my time on my laptop plugging myself into Model Mayhem and updating my Myspace... I've finally found how I can be bored. I'll be leaving here with 15 dollars tonight, which will be enough to get me a pack of cigarettes and I may even spring for a 6-pack or bottle of wine for tomorrow. This is just ridiculously lame, however. I cannot live like this anymore, for real. I like good food and a nice home and good booze and shit. I hate going to Walgreens to develop my film cause I don't have the money to go to Danella's. I'm going to pound my head into the tabletop if I don't find a new job and figure out a living situation. I'm starting to get nervous that my dick landlord will pull Ultra Dick and change my locks or some shit. I haven't seen him since I got back, so I can't even pull the pathetic Please-Let-Me-Stay I-Have-No-Where-To-Go thing. Which isn't false, though perhaps exagerated, and perhaps not. I have this sick way of assuming that life will toss me some bone when I need it.

Though it did send me James, I fear I'd still be sleeping in my bed all day being pathetic if I hadn't met him. I guess it's my turn to continue the good luck.

Though it hasn't tossed me a job in the months that I've needed one, so I guess I'll break down tomorrow and go out and actually apply. Imagine that. I also need to get some cleaning done, and hopefully I'll still have an apartment for my planned guest to come and visit, haha.

I just figure this is Life's way of showing me humility.

But, God, I think I've learned it.

I'm a little scared that I'll never be good enough for these things that I want to be doing. I've got all these ideas about modeling and photography and the people I've surrounded myself with and what I'm going to do to build my life the way I want it. Fuck, half of me thinks I can really do anything I want, the other half says I'm a fool.

I'd rather be an adventurous fool, than too causcious and safe. My worst fear is looking back and saying,

"I could have..."







Me and Grandpa in his trainer Plane. I don't think I've ever seen him happier than when he's flying, more so when he was teaching me. An Airport Bum. APB. (He declaired to me).

I'm in Love with the World

Don't be mad cause we're so fucking cool.
Got a bunch of super fun photos back.
Including James and I.
Including Bowling.
Including kitties.
(all three)

PBR and Stella

Classy guy, that Christopher Bush.


I like my hair, after a few days of hemming and hawing over it.


I also think it's hillarious that I was waiting on four photographers from anywhere from a few weeks to a few days... and then today, three of them show photos. Aaaand I guess I can add myself, a fifth party, to that mix... seeing as I'm gonna finish this smoke and go pick up four rolls of film. mmmmmmmmmm, can't wait. Nervous, though, cause they ain't anything special.. meaning taken with a point and shoot, and for the most part are just snapshots... But I'm excited about that. Random shit. Every day shit.

I like everyday shit.. extra specially cause it's with someone I extra special like.

Start the Semester off Right

Photo I took with my 440 polaroid. I love it. Sarah is beautiful.


I'm in NYC and am having a hard time seperating responsability from my heart. I love it down here, and my life in this small world with a man I adore. Conversation, wine, cigarettes, pool and bowling, awesome friends in quiet bars. I've burned through like ten rolls of film just with a point and shoot, taking random photos. My cats are here with me, which is nice. And are just getting comfortable, then I shove them back in the car.

Skipped my first day of classes yesterday, and am going to skip my class for tonight, as well. I don't give a fuck, though, cause first days are bullshit anyway. The important one I go to is Science of Light 2, tomorrow. Can't miss that one. I'm real good at justifying pretty much anything. It's just so nice here! Whatever, at least I'm taking photos. And Chris dragged me into a bar bathroom again to take photos, which is neat. See! Modeling and taking photos and drinking with friends and being happy! Shiiiiit, totally worth missing a couple classes. ;)


I just don't want to leave.

Balls to the Wall

Lastnight I drunkenly emailed Terry Richardson with a silly and very short email packed with attachments from James Graham, Chip Willis, Frank Petronio, Christopher Bush and KC Gunn. It suddenly gave me this idea to start emailing photographers that AREN"T on Model Mayhem... There's something productive and fun about being so proactive about it. Aim high. They're no different than these amazing people I HAVE been working with. Even if I don't get a response, at least I tried.

But suddenly I feel un-fucking-stoppable.



Photo by Chip Willis.

Blood

One week, 1, 300 miles, 22 hours of driving, 2 countries, 4 cities, 4 states, 2 photographers, 2 cats, 1 MILF, 2 drunken nights, 110 dollar ticket: 83 in a 65, 6 smokes inside, 1 incident at the boarder, 200 dollars spent, 1 flying lesson, 9 family members, 1 grave visited, 1 dead father actively ignored, 1 sister to beat around the bush, 1 man to grip at my heart.

I'm finally home and I'm that sort of tired that makes girls like me cry. Been on the road for ten hours and smoked one more cigarette, this time in the comfort of my own home. I still have to bring in a bunch of shit from my car and pack for New York City, which I'm getting up for at eight am. I barely have the strength to sit up let alone trek up and down the stairs burdened with my over packing. I just want to sleep for a of couple days.

I'm shaking from lack of sleep, lack of food and caffeine. Pan and Artemis are mad because I don't have food for them, which is why I'm getting up so early.. have to go get them food before I catch my train. Thank god I can sleep on that ride.

My heart aches.

Slow Day

Slow days are always the worst. When thoughts that you dont' care to dwell on rise up. Like :

-Where are my friends I used to have?
-Where am I going to go when I go home and have to move my stuff out?
-How will I get a job without a phone?
-Where are my fucking friends?

Yeah I guess that's about it. The concept to me, of just dropping people you've been close with, is completely foreign. But I shouldn't complain, because I'm getting new friends. But I liked the old ones, too. Sigh.

I try to keep just thinkign about the good stuff, though. This semester at school should be really good. Settling back down into a healthy routine. Working on my "self". Going through my apartment and trashing the things I don't need. I'm looking forward to that.

Move forward. Stop looking back.

Flying

My grandfather got a little Cessna trainer plane so my aunt could learn to fly. Today, he took me up in it. It's the first time I've flown with him in like four or five years, and it's just as fun as it used to be. I didn't fly it much myself, because I was stupid timid, but really I just wanted to go up with him to spend time and to have some fun. I did have fun, too, cause he did just what he used to when we were little: up, down, side-to-side.. only more so. We did these not figure-eights figure-eights (not upside-down) that really pushed and shoved your gut good, which is always fun. It's neat looking out the window and looking straight at the ground. I've never seen my grandfather so excited.. Though he was a little bummed that I wasn't more agressive about learning and flying myself, but I needed a warm-up go, yaknow? IT"S A PLANE, dammit, totally foreign and stuff. I had the little point and shoot that Frank gave me and was snapping pictures and giggling and that's basically all I did. I listened to all the stuff Grandpa told me about the instruments and how to fly and what does what, which is real interesting to me as it is. So now I think I'll eventually have to learn how to actually fly and get my license. I may need it when the apocalypse comes.

That, and I've added something to my Life To-Do List:
-Find an aerobatics pilot to take me flying and to photograph... though not in the plane. Obviously.


I'm also trying not to want to go to Fashion Week. Not that I know what that even means. I do a good job at pretending I hate fashion.

Sometimes I honestly think people want me to fail. But not people I know, just people I don't know. What makes a stranger decide upon looking at a photo or seeing you, make them want to be nice or mean? It makes me wonder if I really come off as that much of a bitch. Cause I really don't mean to.

Lately I've been told that I'm average looking, or implied, or treated thus. I mean, I've been noticing it. Not that I ever thought that I wasn't, I just have never been told. It's painful for me to love modeling so so much and in the back of my mind know that I don't have that extra something to make me a Real Model. I like to believe that if I really wanted to, I could get an agency and do it. But when it comes down to it, even though I love fashion, I don't love it that much. I keep telling myself to stop worrying about it, to just keep working with people who I love their person and their work.


Besides. Photographer first.

I've failed my Photo-J class four times

Have you ever tuned your thoughts around a song and thought it was a love song, only to find out it was heartache? Do you see music as pictures, moving or still? I love seeing the story. The colour of hair or the sneakers. Has a photo ever made you cry? Once really sticks out to me. I was going through these photo books at a used bookstore, it was a LIFE book, I think.. There was a photo of some act of war or terrorism, and there were people digging in the dark rubble and everything was dark colours, dirt all over the man in the middle, carrying over his head the broken body of a baby in a white nightgown. Thinking about it makes me pissed. That's when I realized how great photojournalism could be. I started looking at National Geographic instead of Vanity Fair. I found waterfalls and cliffjumpers. Aids in Africa. Animals going extinct. Glaciers melting. Beautiful waters and trees and food and people. Makes me feel like fashion can go suck a cock or maybe just my pinky toe. I'd rather try to fuck it all up something awesome.

Hmmmmm... I'll go start writing the game plan. Who's in?



(still like fashion)

New Years

It was a great New Years. My friend Sarah showed up New Years Eve to demand that I go with her to Vermont with her boyfriend and a bunch of his friends and coworkers. So I did. Didn't overdo the partying, though it may have something to do with the fact that everyone around me was obliterated except Sarah. Went to bed somewhere around two after Sarah and Bobbie went at it in the bed next to me, and didn't even invite me! Shame on them.

Then we got up and Bobbie (Sarah's boyfriend) had to go meet his buddies to go snowboarding at like ten am. By the time we'd brought him there, Sarah and I had pretty much convinced ourselves that we wanted to go skiing (instead of tubing? I don't wanna go tubing, I wanna fuck myself up on these wicked slopes duuuh). Well, I convinced her that we did, though it was originally her idea. Anyway, it was a site to see, I'm sure. With mismatched snow gear, we looked more like kids getting ready to make a snow fort rather than go down hill skiing on this huge fucking mountain. The first time down was rough, the second much better, and by the end of the day we were having a lot of fun. We ended up going to the very top (just once), which took forever! Anyway, I was so proud of myself because I went from plowing real slow like, to actually starting to ski like a normal person again. Last time I skied was like six years ago.

Listening to a bit of happy music for once.
Just a bit, though. ;)

NYC

I just got back from the City. After being around so many people and huge buildings with small apartments, it's strange being back in Utica. I was worried about my cats, but they're fine (and cute as ever).

I really loved this trip. I peed on the sidewalk and took my clothes off in a bathroom to do a random shoot with Christopher Bush. Smoked a lot, drank a lot, shot a lot, talked a lot, slept a little. James Graham and I did magic, of course. He shot me last night, as well as the night before that, since I "missed" my train and came home today, instead (I don't think my boss was too thrilled). I drank six lattes, made ganga brownies, had amazing wings, amazing pizza, and the best omlet ever ever ever.

I am inspired.

Fuck.

Dude this self portrait thing is hard.
And Photoshop can eat me.
(I think it already has)


ps- I know the photo on the right is lopsided. I fixed it but I'm not reposting it. Yes, that's how lazy I feel after working on this fucking thing for four hours. ;)

I feel

So full. Full of emotion or thought or whatever.

So full that I feel the only way to get it out is by running till I drop, fucking till I pass out, screaming, sweating, crying, bleeding. Sleeping, reading, writing. Cleaning, looking through magazines, knitting, watching movie after movie, driving for forever. Get a new piercing, tattoo.

A new photo.


I'm tired of looking a pretty things.
Pretty people
with pretty clothes
and pretty expressions.


Where's my tripod?

Alright.. so... whatever

I think in the last few weeks I've been labeled "bi polar", "personality disorder" or some similar counterpart way more than I thought I would. I was even called "angsty artist" by a professor. ARTIST?! sweet.

But I will continue my inter mantra of : You are not creative. You are not Artistic. You are nothing specail. You have no idea what's going on. You know nothing.


I've been putting off going to get that book, only because I know all the stores are swamped my silly Christmas shoppers. You know, the drunk dads and the moms who will upturn other's strollers with their superior Gucci double wide with matching diaper bag, sunglasses, with another child tied to a matching Gucci leash.

I want a Gucci leash.

Anyway.. the last two Christmases I worked at the mall, and let me tell you, the average mom shopping for gifts is pretty much the bain of my existence. Or perhaps their rude haughty behavior triggers my anger disorders, encouraging fantasies of throwing something breakable at their heads. Though being cold and rude back really gets them in a tizzy. They're so used to passive aggressive underhanded comments and snide looks towards their miserable drunk husbands, spoiled kids and lesser social disfuntionaries that when some young thing working minimum wage dishes it back they short circuit.

Thank God I am not dealing with them anymore.

Though now I get to deal with drunk young idiots who want everything cheaper, more liquore, some sort of a deal, no tipping. How do I get myself wrapped up in this?

I've decided I'd rather be a secretary.


By the way, no one's getting presents from me. Fuck Christmas. Happy birthday Jesus.

Four AM Inspiration Kick

Well it started at the beginning of the night at some point. When I got home I decided to look through a fat magazing I didn't think I'd searched through yet. Apparently I did, because there were already pages ripped from it, though I ripped a lot more out. There's this article about Djuna Barnes, and I am now dying to get her book [i]Nightwood[/i]. Her photo attracted me, of course, as that's what's always grabbing and leading my attention. I figure if there's good photos, and writing, the words must be good, too. I fear that I am the last to hear about this woman, or perhaps I fear to not be. Maybe my expectations are high. We'll see.

I went out to a club - I mean bar - with my friend Andrea and a few other people. Because of it, I have semi-planned shoots with three people, all with really solid ideas. Sometimes I'll just see an image that just grows when I meet a person, or see them in different light or atmosphere. Those always turn out the best.

I was talking to this girl Jess who I've known for years and I keep telling her I want to photograph her, but never calling her to make official plans. I told her I love the process of shooting with someone I barely know, and developing a relationship over a few different shoots. And then I realized how true it is, and I never do it. I've been mostly all talk. I'm starting to think that my main professor, Jerome, is right. Maybe I'm actually talented.

I'm going back to school next semester, signed up for the classes yesterday. Jerome gave me incompletes for PhotoJournalism and Studio (table top), so I have until the end of next semester to finish these classes, which is awesome. I'm good at both (Studio, surprisingly..) and like everything else I could be good at - I just have to go do it. The other classes I've signed up for are Seminar (to take in your last semester, polishing up your portfolio and pretty much shooting whatever you want), Topics (digital Studio fashion), Digital 2 (Digital location fashion), History of Photo 2, and Science of Light 2 (tells you WHY your eyes/lens does/sees the things it does). I may not end up taking one or two of these classes, as it may be too much, but I want them all. I'm pretty gun-ho on doing this semester right.

Fuck Modeling. Both are fun, and I hope to do both, but I have to put my energies where they're best used. Maybe Model Mayhem will be useful after all. ;)

So I guess all is not at a loss here in Utica, NY.

Cafe, NYC, etc

Went down to NYC for a night with Frank. Met Nerlande, and she's just as awesome as I expected. Frank and I didn't end up shooting very much, mostly hanging out, which was cool, but I would have liked to get some more shots in than we did. Oh well, there's always next time.

It was the most depressing trip to NY I've ever made, mostly because my sister Melody was so close and I couldn't go see her because we aren't talking.

The place Frank and I stayed at was right next to the Church of Scientology. Suddenly I desperately want to know more about it. You know, because walking by several times, drunk and making faces at them caused a chain reaction inside of me to understand this crazy thing called Scientology. It's my obsession with anything religious or occult. It's totally facinating and I totally believe in ali-ums.

May I just mention again that my cats are pretty much the best things ever. Obsessed with them as well. I'm obsessed with a lot of things.

Saw the Golden Compass. I loved it, of course. I love anything fantasy, magical, childish, fantastic, etc etc.

This photo is of two girls at this hippy fest I try to attend every year. So far I've gone twice. It's called Drum-n-splash and it's where all these hippy types get together and drum all day and all night. Day time is when you take drumming or dancing classes, and then at night use those learned skills at either of the two big bonfires and everyone acts tribal and no one is judgmental. It's wicked fun. And the "splash" part comes in because of a stream/water hole where said hippies get naked. Actually there's generally a lot of nakedness. I'm shy though, so I don't get naked.

Anyway, it's a super bad scan of the shitty print, not the good print, so forgive me my lazines. This photo and two others got put up in a cafe in a small town right outside of Utica. I priced them really ridiculously like $93.17 which, clearly, I think is hillarious.