Week Four of this project was, um, interesting. This is what chronic insomnia looks like, when the day begins with giving up, instead of getting up.
And then I stayed up all night, and slept all the next day – on and off, which is how I have slept for over a year now. One of these days I will awaken rested and ready for the day, instead of already negotiating how little I can get away with doing and promising tomorrow will be better.
When in doubt, fold a paper heart, and let the metaphors take care of themselves.
March came in like a lion this year, and went out like a different lion. One final ice and snow storm provided my deck with an accumulation of wet white crunchiness the consistency of a frozen margarita, adding to this week’s themes of division and fragility elements of the transitory and the broken, not to mention a numb finger.
When a dead leaf understands exactly how I feel.
Back to back with myself. Because everywhere I go, there I am, my own better half.
Yesterday I was thinking about the self portrait project I abandoned a while ago when both the photographer and the model ran out of energy and enthusiasm. The shoots I was conceiving, planning, undertaking and editing were quite demanding physically, intellectually and emotionally, the sort of thing you can only do when you’re at your best and beyond. I’ve been far less than that lately, but I miss the process, and I miss the artist who was once equal to it. This image is from a test shot I did for a shoot 2 years ago. Maybe it’s cheating to recycle old images, but this little photo flipping exercise worked so nicely with this week’s batch of images, it counts as new. Sometimes all you’ve got is what you were, and while you wait for yourself to return, you just have to find ways of making that as beautiful as possible.