A confession. I have a case of nerves. In the coming days, I'll be finding out about the future of a couple of projects I have been working on for much longer than is healthy. So, this week has a Looney Tunes anvil hanging over it and I'm feeling the acute pangs of the waiting game.
But...
After a sordid weekend of too much revelry, I spent last night watching one of my favourite films, Alfonso Cuarón's 'Y Tu Mama Tambien' and had my love for it completely reinvigorated by it's melancholy, messy humour and desire. I then fell into an exhausted stupor and dreamt all night that I was taking photographs in a strange, mist-soaked coastal village full of people with warm but incredibly odd faces; bulging eyes, angular cheek bones, jutting adam's apples. As I printed the photos of faces, mist, and craggy coastlines, I kept making mistakes with paper and chemicals but each accident made the photograph something quite beautiful. Then, as the dream dissipated, the first thing I thought of when I woke up, bleary-eyed, was, inexplicably, Frida Kahlo. What a fucking great way to start the week. Humble thanks.
“no moon, sun, diamond, hands —
fingertip, dot, ray, gauze, sea.
pine green, pink glass, eye,
mine, eraser, mud, mother, I am coming.”
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