Sunday, March 28, 2010

This is a little bit of graffiti done in nail polish on a light post in Manhattan near the corner of W 20th St and Tenth Ave. It reminded me of dripping blood; and because of the grey background, Francis Ford Coppola's 1992 "Bram Stoker's Dracula" as well (I must be remembering some advertising from the film that looked similar).

But back to the graffiti, there's something about the look of the dripping blood red nail polish that projects pain when combined with the message. Had it been pink (or yellow or orange) nail polish it might have looked hippie-ish or fun, but it's not. So although this was probably nothing (maybe just school girls goofing around with nothing else to do), it seems like a dramatic cry for help. And the blistered, wrinkled, aged and cracked, lifeless grey paint that it's on top of only helps to make it stand out that much more.

So what's the point? I don't know. Maybe that there are little drips of emotion all around us that we never take notice of. It's nothing, but it's also something. We'll never know the real story behind it. Maybe it was just a few kids wasting time, or maybe it was a woman who couldn't cope with a lost relationship and eventually commited suicide. Or maybe it was a man! (Why necessarily a woman?) Maybe it was just someone crying out to be loved. Maybe it was a quickly scrawled joke. We'll never know, but it leads us to ask the question, and that's the art of it. Even if it is just graffiti.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Just a goof photo. This is a grave marker for one "Ann Rice".
The way that we put images together tells a story, almost as if we were speaking it directly. The images flow together. They form relationships. They act as stepping stones to the next scene and the next part of the story. But a lot can be read into those connections as well; sometimes things that the artist hasn't intended - or even thought of. And I guess that's the beauty of it, that it's not all there. That's part of what the artist tries to do. That's the beauty of a short story that suggests everything within a few hundred words. That's the beauty of a song that leaves you slightly hanging melodically. You know what the missing note is.

Wigs For Burn Victims

This is me getting old. And I'm surrounded by darkish old stuff. Antiques.

I think it's important to understand the cycle of life, and realize where you're at in it. Doing that while you're young is the hardest part. (Sugar Mountain, right?). I felt like a teenager until I was 41, and now I feel like an old man - how does that happen!?!

So this is a good self-portrait for me... this is the change: loss of hair, bags under the eyes, dry skin... at least I still have some color in my cheeks :)


Monday, March 15, 2010

What a can of worms this one is! If we can just get past the whole child porn thing, this is just a figure study of a few kids that reminded me of a Picasso painting (something I saw at the Barnes, but that's a whole different discussion for another time). Anyway, what makes it interesting, I guess, is that it's modern day in Central Park NYC; and that the one kid on the left seems to be bent on breaking his friend's finger off!. Not long after I took this shot a family was thrown out of the playground and given a ticket because they were there without a child. It was an elderly couple and their daughter and son/spouse. I, of course, had my two monkeys with me, and the only reason we were there was so that they could go to the playground. But here I was taking photos of other kids and I didn't get in trouble! So are we believing, as a society, that pedophiles don't have families? Of course they do! But simple rules make it simple to operate, so that's the way we do it. I'll agree that to follow the rules the family should have been asked to leave, but I think it was wrong to give them a ticket. And if they were doing their job they would have kept an eye on me - but, oh, wait, that's not their job....