Nils, Tamara, Jolle. We drank beer, considered different time zones, categorized stars/aliens/airplanes, dunked into the warm, black lake water. The moon was full (like a mirror for our bellies). Drying off, with bikes parked in the field, we celebrated Nils' dad's 61st rotation about the sun with this 10 year old (illegal) hot air balloon. The flame grew precariously large.
I keep waking up to find myself in the same unfamiliar place. Am I a prisoner? In exile? Is this the quantifiable Atlantis? Signs direct me from one to the next. Like the lilies, nearly silhouetted yet outlined in white by the earth's final turn away from the sun, lined up against some shitty orange cloth masking the construction site. Is it too naive to conclude anything from a good night of sleep when it's preceded then followed by a night of terror? Dreams of animals scurrying lead into a slap of reality as defined by 2:30 AM and an alert of an ax murderer some three hours north of here. How can I conclude anything when these horrors are then followed by a gratuitous message permitting information that I had been intentionally avoiding? Now I sit in futile attendance of this golden hour, hopeful that the sun sets on the cloth before the flowers. My skin is itchy and broken and I keep picking and picking just to reopen old scabs. If I continue to replace the scab with a new scab, does it remain the same wound?
Today I would define as the best day, thus far. I sat on a boat for an hour long trip to Isle Reichenau. Reichenau is a really fun word to pronounce in a German accent. Last weekend, the woman I met told me to go here specifically to visit the church which has well preserved historic paintings due to the fact that they were painted on wet walls. I was surprised to find that this island was predominated by greenhouses and farms of lettuce, pumpkins, squash, etc etc. I could eat up this entire island and feel full for weeks. The absolute highlight was the Salatstube, a salad bar built into a functioning greenhouse. The second highlight was the shokolate hasselnut (chocolate hazelnut) milkshake. Honestly the best milkshake I've ever had. (Maybe it was my state of mind???) By the end of my two hour land excursion, I sat blinded by the sparkling water, slumped against a tree, sleepy and satisfied. The boat ride back home was only but a dream.
Disclaimer: These photos are mediocre, but they serve as evidence that today happened.
Days like today are my personal proof of reality. I can measure days by the placement of my books, can measure months by the diminishing 25 toothpick pack, can measure years by the number of July Fifteenths that have passed since you had. Reality only exists to me if I can count it, quantify it, put it in my pocket, and look at it later. Since you left I have graduated twice. I have left the country four times. I ran 13.1 miles. I have made one friend that will be in my life forever. I have had ten birthdays (that's 185 candles), been in two bike accidents. In three years, I will have lived half of my life without you. I have gone zero days without thinking about you.
These photos are quite boring, and as of lately, I am quite boring. Something I keep telling people is that here, in Germany, I am living the same life (and am still the same person) that I was before I left. I am not changing, only adapting to being alone, walking greater distances, coping with days of silence, falling asleep before the sun sets. Mostly, I feel tired but cannot sleep. I spend most of the day dedicated to exhausting myself by going on runs, walking into town, reading, creating, but the only thing that has worked thus far has been chamomile tea.
VIctor/Trauma/Slow Down. Exit the bus through the second door. Pull out all of your hair and dream that it grows back. Dream about the wrong bus picking you up from your oppressor. Door close panik. Goal close panik. Wake up to the rain. Three hours to go. Light from a flashlight, seeking your oppressor. Pain in your chest. Panik in your brain. Victor/Trauma/Slow Down. Running for the train.
A color that describes the feeling I have returned to a number of times this week. Small situations bring me out of it. The old man who sat next to me on the bench by the blue lake. The woman who invited me to share drinks with her family under the dark blue sky. The loss of breath while choking on the reflected blue water.
July. This is always a tough month for me. This summer, I can vehemently direct my emotions to the album July by Marissa Nadler, and in particular, the song Firecrackers. Marissa Nadler sings:
Firecrackers burned into heaven on the floor
My attackers, it's me it's me it's me you're looking for
July Fourth of last year, we spilled all the blood
How'd you spend your summer days?
I know better now I don't call you up at night
'Cause baby, your ghost and I have changed
I have a tendency to relate random things that I read, see, taste, etc. into one amalgamated theme. Ayn Rand writes:
"We cannot serve him by making terms with his destroyers."
"I'm not making terms with them. They need me. They know it. It's my terms that I'll make them accept."
"By playing a game in which they gain benefits in exchange for harming you?"
On a separate note, tonight I photographed windows and reflections.
This time zone is diminishing my circadian rhythm to the point of virtual non-existence. I stay up late, sleep until the afernoon, and I'm acting like this is a pattern, but the reality is I've only been here for three days and two nights. Run on sentences, run on sentences, running on coffee, days running into weeks, weeks into months. Stream of consciousness. Sea with sailboats. Seerestaurant on the coast of the city.
I don't really feel like saying much today. Too caught up in a different time zone. Here are some of the photos that I took today in Konstanz/Radolfzell. The graffiti pic is one of my favorite photos I've ever taken.
Day 1 of many in Germany. Honestly, one my favorite activities while traveling is sitting on long train or bus rides and staring out the window. I am able to understand more about a place by watching it fly in front of my face, delivering no words, just thoughts. Germany feels like my dreams. Like stacks and fields of colored boxes decorated with windows and people, visible by incandescent light. I see totems and cows, symmetry and chaos, all sending me that visceral assurance that things will be ok.
I can confidently say that my experience with WWOOF (World Wide Organization of Organic Farms) in Santa Cruz, California was one of the best and most formative of my life. During Summer of 2014, I spent three weeks on Blossom's Farm, living in a trailer in the woods, planting, watering, harvesting, and cleaning every day. Blossom's Farm is owned by beautiful Swiss Carin and her husband Delmar. This farm employs biodynamics (bless you, Rudolf Steiner) which is a method of utilizing soil, minerals, earth, atmosphere, and galaxy forces to maximize crop potential. I look back on this experience with a full heart and remember well four leaf clovers in the meadow, standing on the edge of the quarry, waking up to goats screaming, selling bunnies at our farm stand, and celebrating our last night with wildflower crowns. I shot solely with my thrift store point and shoot and a disposable.
Dehli, Agra, and Jaipur in 11 days with 18 students. Being there made me feel mostly introspective, considering how in the United States we live for pleasure, and in this country, so many people live for survival. The colors and spirit of the country were juxtaposed against the pervasive poverty pouring out of every street and alley on repeat. People bathed in the water that was too unsafe for us to drink. With my mouth closed tightly shut in the shower, I considered how privileged I am to live in a country where I can walk around without fear. Aside from the psychological experience I had, the ancient and historic architecture of this country is surreal. I shot only with my cheap point and shoot and a disposable camera.
This Thursday, I leave for a four month stay in Germany where I will be working as a technician at the Max Planck Institute for Ornithology in Radolfzell. Naturally, I am reflecting on past travel experiences, such as my two month stay in Medellin, Colombia last summer where I studied carbon sequestration in the paramo (aka Colombian wetlands). I embarked on two separate week long trips into the paramo which included a three hour, uphill hike to the cabin, a two hour hike to and from the research area, and miles of walking around the swampy wetlands. On the second trip, I brought an old point and shoot film camera with me. Most of my photos were used to capture the most stunning sunrise I've ever seen.
Julie Julie Julie. Hashtag wow. Julie and I became instant friends. We met for the first time at Columbus' Get Right hip hop dance party. She's been my muse ever since the Columbus Flea circa May 2016. This photoshoot was our first of many together, and was inspired by the 5th Avenue Floral Co that glows bright red and emits grandeur and entitlement as it consumes the street corner during the crepuscular hours.
The idea to combine literature and photos came to me out of blue. I have a tendency to OBSESS over various art media for periods of time. One of my more recent obsessions was Tom Robbins. I like the way he combines imagination and reality where the two are hard to distinguish. Recently, I've been shooting with a 35mm Nikon Fe series (thx Serm), and decided to combine the photos with quotes from some of my favorite novels such as 1985 by George Orwell, Still Life with Woodpecker by Tom Robbins, and The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand. I tried to incorporate some wit (tried) to create a fake story.
Brian is a relatively new friend of mine and where we are similar in our dichotomy of environmentalism and artistic photography, we differ greatly in a way such that he is technically savvy and detail oriented with his photos whereas mine typically excel in happy accidents. Por ejemplo, on this day, we visited a few somewhat secret magical spots such as a natural waterfall at the end of a constructed, raised path, and a seemingly abandoned quarry, saturated with blue-green water (I'm speculating it's limestone, aka calcium carbonate). The photos that came to fruition for me were created by the combo of a tilt-shift lens and colored lens strap cloth. This began a new photo chapter for me.
To the tune of Dreamin' by Mac Demarco
Nikki Moon and I became friends under a strange circumstance. We could not deny our love for one another, spending our first months of friendship staying up until 4 AM, having sleepovers, sitting in coffee shops, collaborating on artwork, and enjoying one another's company in any setting. Nikki is an incredible artist, and this particular project was a collaboration of sorts. We began with a large sheet of white paper and rolled it into a tube. We shot lights into it to create this other worldly effect. Most of these photos went into a short stop motion.
To the tune of Marea Baja by Ken Griffin
See the post below for the description.
I felt lucky and elated that memorial day weekend. This past year has opened up my heart and soul, catalyzed by new friends and experiences. This particular day was spent with Brian, Adam, Julie, and Nathan. Nathan drove while the rest of us created our own eclectic playlist. We stopped at yellow boxes, yellow flower fields, and a yellow, detritus coated office. Nathan taught me a word back in August: MacGuffin. I can't help wondering what mine is.
To the tune of Mind Bokeh by Bibio
