Posts Tagged ‘Londinium’

Intimacy Project

Wednesday, March 13th, 2013

Day before the exhibition opening. Sitting in my hotel room in Kensington waiting for the Queen.

..November 2005, Kensington, London…

Dear Mom:

I’m presently in London searching for the meaning of life. 24 hours into my crusade, I haven’t found any answers to why I’m here on this planet or why my accent doesn’t sounds as sophisticated as the British. At best I sound like a Times Square pimp.  At first I was concerned. But this maybe the break through that leads me to the answers. Will keep you updated.

As for my situation with the unruly Germans writing me, I was walking in the tube and a group of German’s passed by me. They didn’t recognize me in my new jacket and recently cut hair. On a brighter note, I successfully met with my friend with the silly hat. As always proceed with Caution.

I arrived in London on the day Tony Blair effectively lost his job. “It’s better to lose trying to do the right thing.” Is it that time again? That sully feeling is back in my stomach. The jackal of Doubt looms. He’s sitting next to me on the tube. Starring at my profile. I can feel the vapor from his gnarly snout brushing up against my neck. My confidence ebbing away with my mutterings.

Paule

1aaa


Dear May Kasahara

Tuesday, June 15th, 2010

..June 2006 New York and London..

Thanks for your beautiful description of the beach. Was a pleasure to read. I walked down the block and peered at the fog hover over the Atlantic after I read it. Was more of a view for reflection rather than a look of distance. Time does fly by. Last week I was 25. I just realized I was 32 tonight.

Paule

1aaa


Fragile

Thursday, January 28th, 2010

Documents 077

Documents 076


Weeping Willows Against the Layered Gray Sky

Thursday, June 4th, 2009

..July 2007  New York..

My words don’t get noticed in Battersea anymore.  I was waiting for you on that corner in Knightbridge with a picture frame under my arm.  Went to Hyde Park, didn’t notice the cool drizzle when I was with you.  Now I only remember the weeping willows against the layered gray sky.  I hope your wearing a tiara when you swim in the Thames.

Dear IceCreamBallet and The 125 Pound Shit Hammer

Thursday, May 28th, 2009

..September 2005 New York..

Dear Renata:

I’ll try to answer your question, How do I find the time to do all these things? Do you sleep?

Only a lunatic can live the life I live. Seven years ago I realized I wanted to be happy. Since than I do what I want, without worrying what others think. I’ve reached a surreal sanity. Only attained after totally losing sanity at one point in your life. The way to find sanity is coming out of the other end of the spectrum. To be truly happy, you have to overcome being miserable. There’s a point when everything makes sense inside. I can’t explain it. It’s like finding love. You don’t appreciate love, unless you’ve been in bad relationships and have gotten screwed in the past.

I don’t know how to describe what compromises my feelings inside, maybe 20% desire, 8% naive, 4% lazy, 6% ambitious, 12% confident, 6% insecure, 8% lonely, 6% scared, 8% generous, 10% selfish, 4% brave, 8% chicken shit, 10% witty, 8% docile, 2% arrogant, 4% charitable, 6% impatient, 12% stubborn, 6% adventurous, 8% self loathing, and 10% confused. This all equals to a 100% feeling of, I’m going to do what I want to do with my life.

Do you sleep?

I hibernate in the winter. In mid-December I wake-up briefly for chocolate chip cookies and ice cream. Returning to hibernation January-March. Waking up with the first warm breeze of the spring. I’m moody in the winter. It’s the lack of light. In reality I do sleep like any other person. But if I don’t get much work this winter, I’m trying the hibernation idea.

The end of this nonsense. That last Fragile piece was inspired when a college kid stepped on my shoe Monday night. The dumb ass didn’t acknowledge he stepped on my shoe.

The music video put into motion a series of whirl wind events this week. What I’ve scanned looks good. But a phone call from the record label set me off on a gauntlet. The conversation started with me explaining, I was completing the video on my time between assignments. Then he snapped off a list of demands, deadlines, editing, etc…Remember, I’m doing this as a favor for no pay. His list of demands went on. At some point I put down the phone and started water my plants. Picked the phone up and he was still rambling. Before I hung up on him, I asked if he also expected me to go down on him for free along with me making the video, shooting, story boarding, casting, styling, etc.. I hung up and added him to the list, who will eventually feel the wrath of the 125 Pound Shit Hammer.

I did the only thing possible when feeling completely trapped by bullshit. I booked a flight to Las Vegas, 2 nights at the Mirage, and rented a 1978 White Cadillac. Do you have a better plan of jumping back into reality? 2 days of black jack, roulette, and cheap whores from Texas with atrocious 1970’s big hair in skimpy dresses peddling free rum on the casino floor trying to rip off the last dollar in my pocket. Wait a minute, this sounds like one of my fashion shoots according to some editors.

I drove to a place outside of Las Vegas, the Valley of Fire. Stumbled around a hamlet of trailer parks. These places scare me. It’s not the rattle snakes, stray dogs, or aluminum trailers. It’s the people.

Two days and I had to head back to New York. Than drive to Washington, DC to cover an antiwar demonstration. I’ve covered dozens. It’s for a good cause but the truth is, no one cares here. Americans looked in the mirror in November 2004, when they reelected the dumbass president, they have admitted the majority of this country is made up of suburban used car salesmen with enough money to buy as many guns as they want, and if anyone around the world disagrees, they’ll bomb the hell out them. It’s a sorry state of affairs.

This is “Fear.” The only thing that will fuel an effective antiwar movement in the empty headed geniuses of ordinary Americans, is the announcement that their taxes will be raised to fight 2 never ending wars simultaneously. Meaning they can longer afford to fill their SUV’s with gas, driving around their suburban gauntlets picking up the kids from soccer practice. The soccer mom’s will not stand for that.

I’ve covered dozens of protests. I get the same photos every time. I do enjoy the anarchists. The last protest they graciously posed for a shot in front of the White House for me. Will make a good Christmas card. I have a warm spot in my heart for anarchists.

That leaves me to the 4 hour drive back to New York. Where I received the wonderful news, you have seen Daisies. I’ll touch on this later. I had to be back in New York Monday morning to take a portrait of a B-list actor for Rockpile Magazine. I rang his bell, he looked at me as if he had been on a hallucinative drug. “The magazine editor said you were sick and postponed the photo.” Snag, I haven’t been sick a day in 2 years. After a call to the his publicist, it was rumored from the photo editor I was sick. Calls to the editor went unanswered. I watched tv with the B-list actor for an hour. He turned out to be a nice guy or whatever he was on made him very pleasant.

I have added the photo editor of Rockpile Magazine to the list of who will feel the wrath of the 125 Pound Shit Hammer. When the time comes, I’ll be dealing with these knuckle heads. Time to pay up. No where to run.

Now, I’m back in New York. Sitting in my living room. Ready to deal with your good news. Your the first person I spoken to who has seen Daisies. What are your impressions? I thought visually it was amazing since it was done in 1964. Have you seen her other movies? I can’t find them here.

I did like Last Tango In Paris. The feelings in the movie were overwhelming. The monologue was the best piece of acting I’ve seen. It proved to me that he’s totally fucked as a person. No one can act that monologue. He had to be out of his mind. I have a soft spot in my heart for The Dreamers. Maybe because the opening of the movie when he crossed the bank and see’s the Trocordaro he says the same exact thing as I thought in my first steps in Paris. His feelings for city remind me of my naive fascination and curiosity with Paris. I don’t know how to properly describe it. I feel more inspired in Paris than anywhere else. I think Burtolucci perfected (in The Dreamers) a lot of what he did in Last Tango In Paris. Feelings and people are what interest me in life. The movie was about strong feelings.

Have you seen the Swimming Pool or City of God? Tonight I’m going to watch an old movie called The Night Porter. I’m a big Charlotte Rampling fan. I’ve always wanted to photograph her. Even when she’s in her 60’s, she is amazing.

As for your photos. I admire a lot of the emotions your able to bring out in the new photos of yourself. The collage on the wall is made up of great shoots. But the new double exposed album sums it up. It’s got feelings and confusion all over it. It’s human and it’s feelings. I’ve always thought the best photos you’ve taken were the one’s where your open and unafraid. The cover image on the Monday album, Emotions, and these new photos is what convinces me. Your words are most powerful in this manner also. When you unleash your emotions and write what’s inside, it’s the best. I thought I admired the words but I admire the person. Because the words are the person.