Photographic Impressionistic Illusionistic
Photography Without Rules
Last night
While dreaming I could fly
A realization flooded over me
The one flying
May not have been me.
My eyes were overhead
Watching something fly
Over forests and rivers
Understanding
That if I am watching something
Fly below
Then I myself
Must be flying as well
So, yes…
That was me flying
But,
Where was I going?
Photograph by me. Multiple exposures on one frame, in-camera.
Quiet in There, Go to Sleep!
My mother would need to deliver that line to us every single night. Four boys in one room will not stay silent very long.
The concept of “going to sleep” is an interesting idea when we think about it. Is it a place….like Paris? Sleep is not tangible, yet we say ” I need to get some sleep”. We can’t touch it, but we know when we’ve had it. We have it even though we cannot touch it….yet… it touches us.
When we are very young we hate it. When we are adults we like it, but ignore it. When we get older we can’t ignore it.
Maybe, “having it” is the impossibility. “Experiencing it” is more appropriate. We experience it, then we are done with it for a time.
Sleep is my next project. Not to “go there”….to that sub conscious wonderland where we dream and work out our anxieties. Rather, to send others there. Either with eyes open in meditation (conscious sleep), or in the traditional sense.
This video is a rough draft of what will be a much longer rendition to take the viewer/hearer to that end.
Sometimes we just see frames and the imaginary worlds these frames make before our eyes.
Music composed from sampled “phrases” and added nuances.
Everything was new
When I was new
ANd i kNew it WAs nEw
Looking across the sky
Again. For the 22627th time
Something keeps telling me
“tHis iS oLD”
The old
See afresh
The value of a “day”
When everything
iS nEW
On the evening I made this multiple exposure photo. The birds circled…so I put them around the moon…the old old moon. Then, nested them gently between the breasts of the distant mountains. The ancient ancient mountains. It was a moment unlike any other I had ever come to love.
Standing at the window
Between nothing and everything
This thin membrane
Protecting the nothing
Before everything
Explodes inside my head
An abrupt impulse
Fires linear intent
Diverted into outer space
Returning white hot
Altered
Indistinguishable
Am I outside?
Or inside
The outside?
Weeping
Without tears
I walk into the water
Breathing and suffocating
Completely
Peacefully
Desires call out
Call in.
Stay with me,
For more than a moment!
Holding the pen
With all my strength
I watch the ink
Disperse into vapor
Such is the life of an introvert who is hopelessly seeking a creative outlet. When one also realizes that there is some attention deficit raging behind the scenes, it can be a struggle to stay on task. My thoughts become sparklers and exploding fireworks. It can be difficult to keep up.
Introversion is not bad. It is simply a way some of us cope with the world and its demands. Unlike the extrovert that draws energy from others, the introvert finds the expenditure of social energy to be draining. It is not an applied “fault” mechanism. It is just the way the brain is wired.
The paradigm is more about being thoughtful to establish a sense of self, made by the self. Other thoughts are welcomed, but if they do not benefit, they are stored for review, but not implemented.
Yesterday, I started some music production/composition that is well beyond my capabilities. I do not read music, neither have I studied theory. Not that I do not want to….I just lack the attention span to grasp the concepts required for implementation. So, I wing it. Self taught/practiced.
I wish it were different. But, as we all learn, wishing rarely accomplishes anything without “the doing.”
So with all its trouble and angst I practice just “the doing.”
Anyone else out there deal with this?
Peace.
Read a beautifully written poem by this young person this morning on Rattle.
The submission process asks: Why do you like to write poetry? The answer: Rylee McNiff: “Because when it rains on the 4th of July but you still light sparklers on the porch while your dad reads a James Patterson novel.”
What a wonderful response!
Excerpt:
i’m dizzy. i’m dizzy all the time.
i take in the breath you left behind
stash it under my tongue—
suck on your toothbrush
like a man and his dip
The rest is here:
https://www.rattle.com/my-name-is-love-and-im-an-amputee-by-rylee-mcniff/
Photographic Impressionistic Illusionistic 