Fleeting...

*unedited stream of consciousness...

It is not a comeback I have been here for years. There is rebirth and hibernation and I partake in the process.  There are nights when my whole body is on fire and my fingers want to burn through these pages like a girl smokes a cigarette on prom night.  For this is where I ran when I felt all alone. Me... in my truest form I run to what I know. Searching for connections like that one light bulb on the xmas lights strand we keep tightening with the hope of brilliance. 

The cycles of life can be so chaotic and at times I just laugh and those around wonder why...

But it is life that have taught me to laugh as hard as I can even when those moments seem inopportune... even when it seems rude. 

Because I know nothing lasts forever, because I know everything is so fleeting and life can be aggressive when it takes things you love from you. I laugh because even what seems promised it never is. At times what I fear the most is what I already know.

Fleeting...

I came home one afternoon to find a neighbor's garden filled with flowers. Cantaloupe color buds and flowers that for some reason filled me with sorrow and inspiration. 

Maybe it was the weatherman's fault for broadcasting over the airwaves right as I pulled up that there would be rain. I pictured the buds and flowers wilting after they've waited all year for this one moment of splendor. Enduring all the elements for this one week in Spring and the show would last one day. It is such notion that filled me sorrow. 

I called upon the muses to show their face and help me paint with light this cantaloupe and tangerine dream I had... Thanks Amy.

“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.” Anais Nin

Just Because...

Trophy Wives

American Hologram

Recreation The Band Cover Album art

Pretty things and people I've seen while documenting my own existence because I know life is short. 

My favorite poem at the moment because I am such a sap.

Poem by Pablo Neruda 

I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You

I do not love you except because I love you; 

I go from loving to not loving you,

From waiting to not waiting for you

My heart moves from cold to fire.

I love you only because it's you the one I love; 

I hate you deeply, and hating you

Bend to you, and the measure of my changing love for you

Is that I do not see you but love you blindly.

Maybe January light will consume

My heart with its cruel

Ray, stealing my key to true calm.

In this part of the story I am the one who

Dies, the only one, and I will die of love because I love you,

Because I love you, Love, in fire and blood. 

Montparnasse...

I am sitting around in this cafe where for the price of a cappuccino and a scone I get to conduct a few business meetings. Artists' lack of space has always been an issue. I sit in this cafe which reminds me of the bohemian era of Montparnasse in France. 

There and for many years artists were so poor they would rent a table to create and conduct their work. The resemblance to bohemian Paris is evident. Then, many masterpieces were drawn unto napkin paper as well as poetry that would make a grown man weep. Art that was lost in exchange of tobacco or a bottle of wine. 

The artist movement is filled with such sacrifice and hunger. The artist is the innovator and dictator of trends. Artists are the manufacturer of visual beauty and new standards. Artists will create the new sounds and lyrics that will speak for a nation of repressed individuals. Music can guide towards freedom and for the ones already free it will turn you into a believer and maker of love. 

There is a Bohemian Montparnasse in each city. It is the artist the one that can't even afford him/herself. 

While the Bourgeoisie claims and steals ideas that are birthed in places such as small cafes, park benches even subway stations where most geniuses gather and meet with ideas fresher than your farm to table consumption... It is the artist that struggles to buy an apple. 

Or in this case... another scone.

We are gulping the summertime as if our life depends on it. 

Hope you are enjoying your summer days and nights.

Seattle...

I have so much to say and it is rolling all over my tongue and I hope that my impatient heart and eagerness to tell a story won't dilute the intensity within words. I must tell you that I am in love with my medium and this thing called photography which is a portal to so many worlds and people. Some say photography is the job of a loner. A lone wolf's job. I am here to tell you that there isn't nothing further from truth.

Those that dedicate their lives to document and capture are living a thousand and one lives. We must connect to the moment. We must connect to our environment and surroundings and quickly acclimate to whatever situation. It is impossible to capture something without the photographer attaching a piece of themselves to it even if they are not in the picture.

Seattle was everything I expected and did not... I am grateful for such. Living for the unexpected keeps me with a certain edge. Makes me feel like that one punk rock kid that has everything to live for. I would like to start with the humans of Seattle.

I met a gypsy that lived in a van that was embellished like Stevie Nicks and if I was a gypsy I would want to live there. My gypsy friend told me he had been a muse to a guy named Macklemore all I got to say is... What you know about rockin' a wolf on your noggin?

1.Bella 2.Moi +Hotel Max  3.Moi & Gypsy

I heard stories of pain and triumph and I was reminded that nothing is random and how I needed to remember clearly those days when I too was a gypsy. Those days that I try to push back... way back in my night table drawer. Every now and then I open that drawer reach in and like a photo-album flip through its pages killing hours.

I know the best way to get to know a town and its people is by visiting their local market. Seattle's Pike Market is everything I was told it would be. Assaulted by the aromas, colors, sounds and people this is where I found the spirit of Seattle...

Traveling alone does the same as my chosen path. You are not really alone and the everyday sort of magic and the inexplicable show up everywhere. The connections I experienced with the places and people.  As I went on and traveled on trains, planes and tunnels there was an eerie inappropriateness to it all. Like a hidden presence and whispered voices that were guiding me when I was alone.

I am home now and we are preparing for a snow storm in the South. You can now add psychic to the list of jobs. Wishing you a great new week will be back soon with more until then... Stay Sweet!

What It Feels Like For A Girl...

When I showed up to do a photo shoot with Caitlyn and Ashley the concept was still hazy in my head. That's the thing about photography. You think you have a clear concept but that would be just one sided. For me to create an image that is unique the soul of the model has to shine through. When I saw Caitlyn bend her gender and reality it was clear Madonna would be the vibe, the point of contact and my visual connection to the outcome of the shoot. One of my favorite Madonna songs would be What it feels like for a girl...

The opening lyrics goes something like this...

Girls can wear jeans

And cut their hair short

Wear shirts and boots

'Cause it's OK to be a boy

But for a boy to look like a girl is degrading

'Cause you think that being a girl is degrading

But secretly you'd love to know what it's like

Wouldn't you

What it feels like for a girl...

What it feels like...

Models: Ashley & Caitlyn

Wardrobe: Private Collection

Photography: Moi.

Strong inside but you don't know it

Good little girls they never show it

When you open up your mouth to speak

Could you be a little weak

Bohemian Life...

When it comes to the bohemian life you can't fake it. You are either born with a bohemian soul or you run around thinking you do. 


La Vie Boheme...

Models : Ashley & Caitlyn
Wardrobe: Private Collection ~ Various Designers
Photography: Moi

I'm a girl from a good family who was very well brought up. 
One day I turned my back on it all and became a bohemian.
Brigitte Bardot 

It was my mom and I against the world. We lived in New York in this bohemian lifestyle where an extended group of artists and photographers were like my aunts and uncles.
Brooke Shields 

I am inspired by the appearance of a bohemian of the new millennium.
John Malkovich 

It is not my fault that certain so-called bohemian elements have found in my writings something to hang their peculiar beatnik theories on.
Jack Kerouac

Happy almost weekend and please stay sweet...

Will be back with part two soon.