Week 35 — Kiss the Air

Week 35/52

The words on the photo are from a song written by the incredible Scott Alan, called Kiss the Air. It's heartbreakingly beautiful — like most of his work — and I thought it was fitting for the photo and the occasion.

There's a big possibility that there won't be a 52 W photo next week. I'm going on vacation, next Monday (Northern Africa, FTW!) and God willing, returning on the following week. I'm not sure about the type of internet connection I'll have, or even if I'll have any. So I can't promise anything. Still, I leave you with this one and hope you like it!

This is all about traveling. I love my city, but sometimes it overwhelms me. It's too many people, too many acquaintances, too many 'hellos' on the street. It's too much noise, too much light and then none at all, and it makes me want to get in bed and stay there for weeks. That's why I need this vacation so much, that's why I need to get the heck out of here, to see what I like and to just sleep and swim and get my ass kicked by the waves and dance in the sand and read read read and listen to music and not to think about any of the problems I have here.

*le sigh*

Alright. I'll probably post an outtake before I go, but in case I don't, and I don't talk to you again and my plane crashes or something (yes, I'm still afraid of airplanes) I love you all, and you've made this journey immensely joyful. Thank you, thank you, thank you. :)

Week 34 — A Stray from the Circus

Week 34/52

This week's shot comes in a few hours earlier than usual, since I'm going away for the weekend and probably wouldn't be able to post until Sunday night.

This is the most composed shot I've ever done. In that image are 5 different photographs, and while I did have a blast doing this, I ended up falling a few times and hurting my leg. It was a nice ending for a not-so-lovely day, in which I had a migraine the size of Texas, my car broke down and I couldn't find half the things I needed for the shot. Yes. One of those days.

I had been dying to do something with the wheel they took off my aunt's bike, a couple of weeks ago. Honestly, I have a feeling it's going to be my favorite prop for a while — I had so much fun with it! And this concept was supposed to be something about the wheel of fortune, but I ended up abandoning it — firstly because this idea kind of took over and there wasn't much I could do to stop it, and secondly because I had a better location idea for the other shot.

I don't know if I've talked about a movie called Twin Falls Idaho, here. I'm assuming some of you know it, or at least know of it — it's the first movie made by the Polish Brothers, and I finally got around to see it. When I was setting up this shot, scenes from the movie, from the quirkiness and the small details came to mind. I'm reading their book, and realizing how much love it took to make that movie made me value my art so much more. You won't always be successful, you won't always please everyone, but as long as you stay true to what you are and what you mean to say through your work, you'll be okay.

Week 33 — Apnea

Week 33/52

When you realize you can't breathe. That you're underwater, that the sounds that get to you are muffled, strained, incomplete. That you're not quite absorbing what you should. That you're stagnant, unmoving. When you realize that no matter where you turn, no one inspires you enough for you to want to learn from them. When you realize that no matter what you do, you'll never be enough, you'll always be the kid who doesn't really work, does she? Because photography's not work, it's pleasure, and God forbid I should love what I do. When you feel like you're sinking more and more and suddenly, the only image that comes to your mind is that of Virginia Woolf, in the Hours, standing in the river, waiting for the courage to die. When you know you have a life to fight for, and you do and it's worth it, but not here. Far away from here, where you can be who you really are. No more lies, no more hiding things. No more of this.

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This is probably my least favorite shot until now. But oh well. Part of this project is the request for us to post whether we're completely satisfied or not, so here it is. There are two more of these in the comments, plus a 'World Photography Day' pic.

Week 32 — A Darker Reflection

Week 32/52

Only 20 weeks to go! Oh goodness.

The concept for this shot was more... violent than this. Darker, very much so. The thing is, I was processing it and I just didn't feel it. You know? When you're doing something but somehow it doesn't seem right? That's how I felt about that horribly creepy shot, so I went with another one. It's not light and fluffy, no, but at least it's not making me want to jump off a bridge.

I don't think I have anything too eloquent to say. This isn't my favorite shot, but it isn't the one I like the least, either. I hope you can find something in it that you enjoy, and if you o, let me know. :)

Week 31 — Coming of Age

Week 31/52

I've had this concept in my mind for a few weeks now, and while it isn't a spectacular shot, it came out exactly like I wanted it to: soft and contained. Which is exactly what this concept was about.

I suffer from an enormous Peter Pan complex. I don't like growing up. I don't mind the concept of getting physically older, but having to be adult and mature and act properly and everything makes me want to shoot myself in the head. It's like I wasn't made for it; I was made to spend half my time daydreaming and imagining possibilities, stories, photos, places I want to see and people I want to visit. I was made to love things deeply and strongly, to laugh out loud in the street and jump and clap when I like something. I was made to smile giddily.

I wasn't made for the formality of adulthood. For the distance between people, for the lack of touch. And this is the concept I wrapped this shot around; the lack of physical contact.

I'm very touchy-feely. I'm the kind of person who'll hug you out of nowhere, who'll try to hold your hand or play with your hair if you're sad. And I know that's not appropriate at my age, now. I'm supposed to be this proper woman, to comfort people with a nod or a pat on the forearm. I'm supposed to keep a respectable distance between myself and others, which is something we didn't have as kids, as teenagers. And it troubles me, because my first impulse (which was radically augmented by the birth of my sister) is to hug people. So I spend half my time telling myself 'not everyone is a cuddle bug like you are, not everyone likes to be touched' and keeping my hands in my pockets so I can be the "adult" everyone wants me to be.

I don't know. Maybe I'm being childish about this, but it's one of the things that bother me the most about growing up. What sense does it make, to not be able to give and receive physical comfort just when things get hard? Because when you're a kid, you might not notice, but the world is pink and bubbly. The teenage years aren't the worst; they may seem like they are, but they aren't. The worst part is when you have to deal with work and bills and health issues and the life that everyone expects you to live. That's when it gets tough. And that's exactly when you're not supposed to be comforted.

I don't know. This is a very... stream of consciousness kind of thing, so I'll just shut up now.

Week 30 — The Wanderer

Week 30/52

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She is not a common woman.

She's left behind a home and a country which she did not recognize as her own; she's left behind the safety of her home in a time when you can smell the war in the air, when you can feel the tension rising in rivulets in the sands of the desert. She left it all behind, all alone, and never looked back. When you ask her, the reason she serves you with is made of only one word: curiosity.

She's driven by curiosity, by that force stronger than life, that need to know more and more and more, until there's nothing more to discover, or maybe until you find a whole new world with new mysteries to delve in, new causes to investigate, new reasons to wonder. She's not satisfied with knowledge — she revels on the curiosity itself, the need to know, the strength it gives her bones.

The certainty of the answers is not what she's looking for; she's in it for the ride, for the silent and lonely nights in the middle of the desert. She's in it for the long, deep conversations under the desert sky, with the men she's grown to consider her brothers, both in this war and in her heart. She's in it for the crews, the teams of explorers in this beginning of century, a time when she's not expected to be there, not supposed to be the sole woman in a men's world. She's in it for the comfort she finds in looking up at the starts and knowing that they move, that they, like herself, run around in circles trying to find their place. She's in it for the clandestine encounters with H., for the broadness of his shoulders and the strength of his hands clutching her hips. She's in it for the moment when they part and their hands are the last to let go, their fingers extending until the tips don't touch anymore.

She is truly content with the life she's chosen. For her, the thrill is in the action, the need for adventure, not the destination. She's a free spirit, never attached, never bound by the petty notions of men and priests, never tied down by the rules of society. She makes her own world out of the maps she folds carefully and hides in the pages of the few books she's always carried along, mixing lands and continents and oceans and rivers; she plays with the compass, skillfully, as if the needle was best friend. She defies the laws of men and God, and yet she's faithful.

Her name is Frances, but the men around her call her Frankie. She is not a common woman.

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[I just read this and realized that I somehow named the woman 'Frankie' in this shot, when in my head she's always been Sylvia. So there. The darn name is wrong, I'm not changing it in the main text, but here's the disclaimer.]

The aesthetics of this were inspired by the fabulous Brooke Shaden. The texture is from pareeeerica's collection.

Aaaaaand I just came across tthis shot from my darling Sarah, which is a similar concept, only she did it before me and way better. Great minds think alike. Go see it!

Week 29 — My Own Worst Enemy

Week 29/52

This did not come out the way I wanted it to. I need a bigger studio, I need better lights, I need an assistant. But still, I don't hate this. I actually like it a bit, because it's dark and it's twisty and it's more 'me' than most of the things I've done in a while.

The theme, the title of the shot is very important. First, because it's the name of a wonderful song by one of my idols — Idina Menzel; second, because it basically describes who I am.

I'm incredibly demanding. Towards others, yes, but mostly to myself. There are times when I realize I'm just saying this mantra over and over in my head 'you can't do that, you can't do that', and a time comes when you actually believe you can't. I'm the one building the walls, I'm the one finding problems in small things.

I've been getting better, though. Much better, I think, and I have to send thanks in no small terms to a couple of people — my singing teacher and my meditation teacher, especially. By listening to what they have told me through the years (or months, in the MT example) we've been working together, they've pushed me to be stronger, to be better, to leave my head out of what I can or cannot do, and that's something incredibly special. And this is a bit of a proof of that; that I have distance enough to see how harmful I was, to myself.

(And really, acrylic paint is the way to go if you want to paint your face. Comes out like magic! BUT — and this is a big 'but' — your skin doesn't breathe through it, since it's basically plastic, so don't cover yourself all over and die, k?)