Thursday, September 30, 2010
so, for Design we had to construct our object in a 3D way and then photograph it. I made a tab out of tabs.....as you can see.
Just when I'd stopped opening doors, finally knowing the one that I wanted was yours. Making my entrance again with my usual flair... no one is there.
I am going to preface this by saying that I have had an awful week, one of the worst that I have had here in New York, so much so that I have no desire to go home. I was SO excited to go home and now I just feel like staying here. I know that I would regret that in the future. I need soap and to squeeze my cat, plus I already paid for the ticket. I know that going home, I will have to be happy and cheery and so fucking glad to see everyone again after this terribly long month. I mean, I will be happy to see everyone but, seriously, it's only been a month...and the people that I really miss - the people that I can't just call up on the phone and talk to about whatever - I won't be able to see. Plus, I have a job which will be good for the money but I rather just talk to the people that I won't get to see for another two months.
I'm not sad that I'm going, I'm not sad that I won't be staying. I just wish I had the people from home in New York. New York is where I belong, I just feel it. It suits me so well but I have no one to talk to. Here, I have no one to whom I can truly relate, no one who really knows me and that is hard. No one can understand me unless they know me and I do not want to tell some everything, I don't really want to talk about that any more - it's over now. I don't want to spend the time or energy remembering, reliving, or telling new people my shit - it's no longer relevant. I need the people who knew me then to know me now, but they're gone, well actually, I'm gone. I realize that I have to move on but getting to know some one and allowing myself to be truly known and seen by another takes years. I don't have years.
This week's photo assignment is a autobiographical one. We must take photos of our homes, our lives, we must tell our story through photographs. I feel like, to tell my story, I need to tell those of the people around me but I don't know any one here. I feel like I am very influenced by many people and I am now finding much them in myself, now that I am away from them. THis is what I want to photograph. I want to shoot people who mean something to me. I have list of 15 names, all of these people are those who I believe have influenced me, some much more than others, but still they have influenced me in a large way. I have satisfactory photos of two of them. TWO.
The people here don't mean something to me yet. I really like and get along with many of them but it's not the same. And New York isn't home yet. It's been a month. I mean, I am happy here but it's is still an empty happiness, it's probably still excitement. The city is still a stranger. Either way, how can any one call any place home in a month?
It is the strangest thing - I don't yet truly miss all that many people, but I miss how I was with them, who I got to be - maybe that's what I miss photographing. Maybe I miss photographing the happy that comes with truly being known.
These photos are the most autobiographical ones I could find. They're a sort of inspiration from my past. They're not that good, obviously taken by a student but I like them because I know what as happening in each, I remember how I felt. I don't know that I could achieve that here; capturing such a strong memory.
I feel so strongly about photographing life: How things are so when it's the way things were, I will be able to remember every little thing and maybe even forget the things that seemed so big. But, today, I can find nothing to photograph. It's the huge bustling city in which I am completely happy, yet I can find nothing that I don't care to forget.
Taking photos is all I have now, they have to mean something.
bad grammar, small words, repetitive phrasing...I don't care.