The Long Way Home

Letter to My Mother
April 22, 2012, 9:32 AM
Filed under: Art Gallery | Tags: , , , , ,


I dream about you a lot since you’ve been gone. Usually you seem very real, and the things you do in them are things you would have done if you were still alive. Like in one dream, you booked a room at some crappy motel next to a broken-down Ferris wheel, and Kristy, Fred and I had to scramble for money to get us all out of there and home. Or another time, you spent all the vacation money on souvenirs, so we couldn’t enjoy the rest of our trip. Why are you so irresponsible? I said, as if I were talking exasperated to a child. I have to remind myself, even now, that you were a grown woman, my mother.

But last night’s dream was different. I was standing at the top of the stairs of an old house. I heard knocking at the front door and peered down to see a man waiting for me to open it. I couldn’t see his face, but you were standing in the corner looking incredibly sad. Mummy, I said, and I panicked because you were disappearing. That’s not mummy, that’s a man at the door, Kristy said somewhere behind me. I was the only one who knew you were there.

[from A Conversation project]


Unfinished Business
October 9, 2011, 10:27 AM
Filed under: Art Gallery | Tags: , , , ,

I am drawn to your dark place, your weird space.

The photos in this post are for an online art project based on a poem written by my friend, Kim Rullo. Certain lines shifted in and out of my mind throughout the week, and I used those lines to caption these shots.

Then in an act of photographic serendipity, my friend Juli sent me a most precious gift: a Polaroid Spectra and a pack of PZ600 film from the Impossible Project. For anyone who doesn’t know about the fate of Polaroid, they stopped making it forever, but Impossible Project sells Polaroid-compatible instant film in small runs. It’s not as easy to use as the original because the film is extremely sensitive to light. You have to master balance of shielding the shot from light, making sure the temperature is not colder than 60 degrees, while holding a camera, while pressing a button, while thinking of composition. The sun in those first 5 seconds is your enemy. The entire process appeals to my neurotic control issue tendencies, where I plan, where I am the director of my creative world, constructing shots ahead of time in my journal because I only get one chance. It also forces me to let go, because over time, the image will disappear from the frame. Like a dream that fades once we wake from it, these images challenge the idea that the photos we take to capture our daily lives will outlive us all.

What I needed was never here.

Are we all born restless?

I need to take myself.

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