I suppose I should begin by writing about vegas. but what can I really say that you haven't already heard? honestly, I thought I would be more impressed. someone whose opinion I used to hold in high regard had gone on and on to me about the place, the lights (if you think I'm talking about you, I'm not. that person wouldn't be reading this.)... but, as my father pointed out, “this would be a lot better if we were high.” yeah, it would. and that aforementioned person probably was. so it makes sense.
it would also have been a lot better if we could have done anything besides look. oh, we did have an incredibly expensive (and delicious) dinner. and I took forty bucks from an ATM to gamble with … but I quickly realized that was pointless. if I were to really play, I'd want to play a real game. poker, where you're playing with other players instead of with a couple people and the casino, well that was $100 to buy in. if I had that much to spare I would have done it. someday, when I have a few hundred dollars to spare, I'll get some folks together and go back and do it right. see a show, too. but, alas, I was only willing to take out $40. and I played $16 of it on those little electronic machines. lost it all.
our hotel in vegas was cheap, though. and really, really nice. it cost as much as the place we're staying here in hollywood, which is a pretty shady place...
when we first arrived the sun was out. the weather was perfect. that perfect LA weather you always hear about. I laid by the pool in a vain attempt to get some color on my skin. though the desert darkened my face chest and arms, the rest of me is still ghostly. hollywood is not what I expected. I expected it to be glamorous. but where we're staying, melrose and vine, it kind of reminds me of 39th street with mexicans instead of black people. the neighborhoods are transitional. kinda like midtown. on hollywood boulevard there are a surprising number of stores selling stripper garb. but grauman's chinese theater impressed me. I admit, I got excited seeing how big/small the hands and feet of the famous are.
that was today that we did hollywood. last night we were in santa monica. when we got to the beach I realized how much I missed the ocean. when was the last time I saw it? had it really been five years? I think so. there was a time in my life when I was on the gulf coast every summer. the smell. the sand. the water on my feet and ankles and dampening my pantlegs. I wanted to dive in but I hadn't brought the proper attire. I used to lay on the beach in the surf and let the water push and pull me up and down so I felt like I was part of the tide. I wanted to do that again. I'm so happy that I'll be living by the ocean. I can't explain how wonderful that sounds to me. I can't believe I survived without it. but I believe I will again, because I always do.
the way LA is so shabby in some areas (even though we've not gone to south central or any of its truly shady parts) gives me the illusion that I could live here.
after hollywood today we drove mullholland drive, looked out over the valley, drove through a corner of beverly hills then up the beach to malibu and back. it was overcast all day except for a few moments up in the mountains. though I wore my swimsuit the beach was too cold, so I just walked and let the water on my feet and my pantlegs like last night. sat on the beach and watched it and felt the sand in my fingers and toes and arms and listened to the waves. the smell. I love it.
a friend from school happens to be here now. he got a fantastic opportunity. an editing job. Adam and I met up and shopped at h&m where I spent the last of my american cash.
tomorrow night I fly out. I know I'll be back here.
29 June, 2010
27 June, 2010
6/26/10, though writing mainly about 6/25/10, when I didn't write at all.
yesterday we crossed the Navajo Nation. in the morning we went to the window rock and my daddy gave me cash to buy a ring from the nice native american gentleman selling things. it's got the bear paw symbol on it with some fake turquoise stuck in the middle. symbolizes strength and protection, though I got it because my last name's Bea(oeh)r. forty some years ago when my dad was down here, he spoke to an old Navajo about the original four clans. one is the Bear clan. the man said that even though it was spelled differently (and it means something different, too,) my dad was of the Bear clan. so I wear it proudly.
I was feeling stressed and my parents said they didn't mind if I bought a pack of cigarettes so I did. I know they'll be too expensive in new zealand, so I should really be done with smoking, but, well, who is ever done with smoking? I've only had two since I bought the pack.
in the middle of this chunk of the Navajo Nation is Hopi land. in the middle of that is Oraibi atop the First Mesa. it is the oldest continually inhabited settlement in north america. the people there do not follow federal or Hopi laws. they don't have running water. some of them have solar panels but most don't have electricity. there are signs saying not to leave the roads, not to pick things up from the ground, not to take photographs or video or sketch, and NOT to go to the church. the church, a Hopi woman told us, was built by a German Mennonite who took photos of the people and place against their wishes and tried to convert the Hopi. eventually they got him to leave and the church was struck by lightening, twice. they leave its ruins as a reminder to outsiders that they have no business bringing their religion. I didn't mention to the woman that our ancestors are German Mennonites.
the Hopi are the ones that believe that being photographed could mean losing your soul. though the Navajo do not believe that, it is impolite to photograph a Navajo without asking permission first. when they first were introduced to cameras, they called them Black Box with the Evil Eye.
as a Photographer.... I think about this.
on the reservations people live in what looks like poverty. houses we would consider unfit. it will be interesting to see how new zealand treats their indigenous peoples in comparison. from what I know, the Maori have it much better.
after crossing the Nation, we got to the Grand Canyon. needless to say, it was incredible, breathtaking, etc. but looking at it from the rim doesn't seem like enough to me. I want to hike down and camp in there. sometime, that'll happen.
we opted to stay for sunset instead of finding a place to camp, so we stayed in a motel someplace south of the canyon. the internet there was iffy and I eventually gave up on it.
today, we drove to the hoover dam, then to our hotel outside of Vegas. I've never been to Vegas before.
if only I had money to gamble.
I was feeling stressed and my parents said they didn't mind if I bought a pack of cigarettes so I did. I know they'll be too expensive in new zealand, so I should really be done with smoking, but, well, who is ever done with smoking? I've only had two since I bought the pack.
in the middle of this chunk of the Navajo Nation is Hopi land. in the middle of that is Oraibi atop the First Mesa. it is the oldest continually inhabited settlement in north america. the people there do not follow federal or Hopi laws. they don't have running water. some of them have solar panels but most don't have electricity. there are signs saying not to leave the roads, not to pick things up from the ground, not to take photographs or video or sketch, and NOT to go to the church. the church, a Hopi woman told us, was built by a German Mennonite who took photos of the people and place against their wishes and tried to convert the Hopi. eventually they got him to leave and the church was struck by lightening, twice. they leave its ruins as a reminder to outsiders that they have no business bringing their religion. I didn't mention to the woman that our ancestors are German Mennonites.
the Hopi are the ones that believe that being photographed could mean losing your soul. though the Navajo do not believe that, it is impolite to photograph a Navajo without asking permission first. when they first were introduced to cameras, they called them Black Box with the Evil Eye.
as a Photographer.... I think about this.
on the reservations people live in what looks like poverty. houses we would consider unfit. it will be interesting to see how new zealand treats their indigenous peoples in comparison. from what I know, the Maori have it much better.
after crossing the Nation, we got to the Grand Canyon. needless to say, it was incredible, breathtaking, etc. but looking at it from the rim doesn't seem like enough to me. I want to hike down and camp in there. sometime, that'll happen.
we opted to stay for sunset instead of finding a place to camp, so we stayed in a motel someplace south of the canyon. the internet there was iffy and I eventually gave up on it.
today, we drove to the hoover dam, then to our hotel outside of Vegas. I've never been to Vegas before.
if only I had money to gamble.
26 June, 2010
June 23rd & 24th
6/23/10 Santa Fe Arts And Crafts
I had one of those nightmares that wake you with a start, Sitting Straight Up Gasping, like the spice girls when they had nightmares about their albert hall gig. my mom wanted to explore an abandoned building that I knew a murderer lived in. I kept telling her I didn't want to, but I didn't tell her about the killer. him running towards us is what woke me. if it were the real world I could have fought him off, but you move slower in dreams and I knew this so I woke myself up.
we had somewhat disappointing crepes at a creperie. USA beat Algeria and I've never been so excited to watch Sports before – but soccer is pretty damn exciting, and kind of stressful to watch. dad and I stood in a bar by the creperie to watch last five minutes - I found myself shouting my excitement and disappointment. uncharacteristic for me. but I expect I'll have to get used to this for the island I'm going to.
the cathedral was open. it wasn't last time I was here. in two places I saw the words “love one another constantly” - I wish more people would listen. in our lady of Peace's chapel I lit two candles. one for everyone in afghanistan: the people who are killing, the women who are property, the people who are dying. the other for Team USA in the world cup. I'm not religious anyway.
Foolishly, I forgot to empty my card last night. Foolishly, I forgot to change it out this morning. Foolishly, when I went back to the car to get the other, I followed signs leading to the “capitol complex” rather than going the direction I knew we came from – the complex is huge. we were on the other side.
after that I needed a drink. lynchburg lemonade. after that I needed some protein. street tamale, best I've ever had.
we walked a road of galleries, every one of them showing the same art that I call Craft. the Georgia O'Keeffe museum, on the other hand, made me want to cry. everything she did I believe in. after her first solo show when critics mistook her for a sexually deviant being and saw freud in her flowers, she changed what she was doing so she would be misunderstood no more – why don't more artists heed critique? when someone misunderstands you, they aren't wrong. you just need to rethink what you're doing.
some O'Keeffe quotes that really hit home for me:
“Nothing is less real than realism …. Details are confusing. It is only by selection, by elimination, by emphasis, that we get at the real meaning of things.” 1922
“I know I cannot paint a flower. I cannot paint the sun on the desert on a bright summer morning but maybe in terms of paint color I can convey to you my experience of the flower or the experience that makes the flower of significance to me at that particular time.” 1931
“If I could put down accurately the thing that I saw and enjoyed, it would not give the observer the kind of feeling it gave me. I had to create an equivalent for what I felt about what I was looking at – not copy it.” 1976
I think all of those statements can be applied to photography. that's the way I feel about it. that's the way I feel about everything.
this quote means a lot to me, too, particularly considering my current situation:
“Where I was born and where and how I have lived is unimportant. It is what I have done with where I have been that should be of interest.” 1976
next door to the Georgia O'Keeffe museum is the Andrew Smith Gallery. Cartier Bresson. Ansel Adams. Annie Liebovitz. Lee Freedlander. Gary Uselmann. no big deal. jesus christ. I almost cried again.
since I'm on a quoting spree, here's one from Adams:
“To photograph truthfully and effectively is to see beneath the surface and record the qualities of nature and humanity which live or are latent in all things. Impression is not enough. Design, style, technique, - these, too, are not enough. Art must reach further than impression or self-revelation. Art, said Alfred Stieglitz, is the affirmation of life. And life, or its eternal evidence, is everywhere.”
that reminds me. O'Keeffe and Stieglitz. through letters and looking at each other's work they fell in love. they thought the same way. where's my Stieglitz? I guess I've still got time.
now we're camping at the campsite we abandoned last night. it rained so it's kinda chilly now. I changed to long pants but I'm waiting to put the hoodie on – conditioning myself for the cold I'm sure I'll feel later. no campfires allowed. forest fires. but by god, nothing could be worse than the cold from that sangre de cristo madness in december.
tomorrow, we visit where O'Keeffe made her final home. we also visit university of new mexico so I can check out what the New York Times considers one of the Top three photography graduate programs in the country. mostly I want to see if I could live in albequerque. we'll see.
6/24/10 I Feel like the sunset, the wind and the sand. like the rocks and the scrubby trees. but not like the Sun.
due to time restraint we went straight to albuquerque. I got sunburned in the car, but not walking through that shadeless city. it is dry there. dry dusty sandy sunny scrubby albuquerque. could I live there? I'm not sure.
I read in something Henson had me read (I can't remember what/who it was) that planning is sacrificing your freedom. if you know what you are doing tomorrow then you are not free.
planning, expectations. those caused a breakdown for me once that drove me to a place I wish I never visited again. I have learned not to do those things, at least not like I used to.
tonight I tried to explain that to someone but it didn't matter. I feel guilty. I feel self-doubt. at the same time there's the lydia who feels Right and Ready. we're at a motel in Window Rock, capital of the Navajo Nation. there is shade here, and sand and rocks and Sun, and comfortable breezes and kind people. dogs run around freely, who knows if they belong to anybody. I envy them. the sunset was pink and purple and pale orangey yellow and blue with clouds stretching out across the sky like they're just an extension of the Earth. I could stay here if I didn't Have to leave.
I had one of those nightmares that wake you with a start, Sitting Straight Up Gasping, like the spice girls when they had nightmares about their albert hall gig. my mom wanted to explore an abandoned building that I knew a murderer lived in. I kept telling her I didn't want to, but I didn't tell her about the killer. him running towards us is what woke me. if it were the real world I could have fought him off, but you move slower in dreams and I knew this so I woke myself up.
we had somewhat disappointing crepes at a creperie. USA beat Algeria and I've never been so excited to watch Sports before – but soccer is pretty damn exciting, and kind of stressful to watch. dad and I stood in a bar by the creperie to watch last five minutes - I found myself shouting my excitement and disappointment. uncharacteristic for me. but I expect I'll have to get used to this for the island I'm going to.
the cathedral was open. it wasn't last time I was here. in two places I saw the words “love one another constantly” - I wish more people would listen. in our lady of Peace's chapel I lit two candles. one for everyone in afghanistan: the people who are killing, the women who are property, the people who are dying. the other for Team USA in the world cup. I'm not religious anyway.
Foolishly, I forgot to empty my card last night. Foolishly, I forgot to change it out this morning. Foolishly, when I went back to the car to get the other, I followed signs leading to the “capitol complex” rather than going the direction I knew we came from – the complex is huge. we were on the other side.
after that I needed a drink. lynchburg lemonade. after that I needed some protein. street tamale, best I've ever had.
we walked a road of galleries, every one of them showing the same art that I call Craft. the Georgia O'Keeffe museum, on the other hand, made me want to cry. everything she did I believe in. after her first solo show when critics mistook her for a sexually deviant being and saw freud in her flowers, she changed what she was doing so she would be misunderstood no more – why don't more artists heed critique? when someone misunderstands you, they aren't wrong. you just need to rethink what you're doing.
some O'Keeffe quotes that really hit home for me:
“Nothing is less real than realism …. Details are confusing. It is only by selection, by elimination, by emphasis, that we get at the real meaning of things.” 1922
“I know I cannot paint a flower. I cannot paint the sun on the desert on a bright summer morning but maybe in terms of paint color I can convey to you my experience of the flower or the experience that makes the flower of significance to me at that particular time.” 1931
“If I could put down accurately the thing that I saw and enjoyed, it would not give the observer the kind of feeling it gave me. I had to create an equivalent for what I felt about what I was looking at – not copy it.” 1976
I think all of those statements can be applied to photography. that's the way I feel about it. that's the way I feel about everything.
this quote means a lot to me, too, particularly considering my current situation:
“Where I was born and where and how I have lived is unimportant. It is what I have done with where I have been that should be of interest.” 1976
next door to the Georgia O'Keeffe museum is the Andrew Smith Gallery. Cartier Bresson. Ansel Adams. Annie Liebovitz. Lee Freedlander. Gary Uselmann. no big deal. jesus christ. I almost cried again.
since I'm on a quoting spree, here's one from Adams:
“To photograph truthfully and effectively is to see beneath the surface and record the qualities of nature and humanity which live or are latent in all things. Impression is not enough. Design, style, technique, - these, too, are not enough. Art must reach further than impression or self-revelation. Art, said Alfred Stieglitz, is the affirmation of life. And life, or its eternal evidence, is everywhere.”
that reminds me. O'Keeffe and Stieglitz. through letters and looking at each other's work they fell in love. they thought the same way. where's my Stieglitz? I guess I've still got time.
now we're camping at the campsite we abandoned last night. it rained so it's kinda chilly now. I changed to long pants but I'm waiting to put the hoodie on – conditioning myself for the cold I'm sure I'll feel later. no campfires allowed. forest fires. but by god, nothing could be worse than the cold from that sangre de cristo madness in december.
tomorrow, we visit where O'Keeffe made her final home. we also visit university of new mexico so I can check out what the New York Times considers one of the Top three photography graduate programs in the country. mostly I want to see if I could live in albequerque. we'll see.
6/24/10 I Feel like the sunset, the wind and the sand. like the rocks and the scrubby trees. but not like the Sun.
due to time restraint we went straight to albuquerque. I got sunburned in the car, but not walking through that shadeless city. it is dry there. dry dusty sandy sunny scrubby albuquerque. could I live there? I'm not sure.
I read in something Henson had me read (I can't remember what/who it was) that planning is sacrificing your freedom. if you know what you are doing tomorrow then you are not free.
planning, expectations. those caused a breakdown for me once that drove me to a place I wish I never visited again. I have learned not to do those things, at least not like I used to.
tonight I tried to explain that to someone but it didn't matter. I feel guilty. I feel self-doubt. at the same time there's the lydia who feels Right and Ready. we're at a motel in Window Rock, capital of the Navajo Nation. there is shade here, and sand and rocks and Sun, and comfortable breezes and kind people. dogs run around freely, who knows if they belong to anybody. I envy them. the sunset was pink and purple and pale orangey yellow and blue with clouds stretching out across the sky like they're just an extension of the Earth. I could stay here if I didn't Have to leave.
23 June, 2010
june 20th, 21st, 22nd.
June 20, 2010, Leaving Kansas City, where I have lived since August 11, 1988 (my Entire life) [excluding June & July of 2007, when I resided at my boyfriend's house in Raytown, suburb of Kansas City]
the first leg of our trip is nothing extraordinary. we drove to my parent's Mid Life Purchase, a 1930s limestone one-room schoolhouse turned duplex that is slowly being transformed into a loftspace, a weekend home, a getaway in Kansas' underrated Flint Hills. it smells like mold.
my father just mowed the lawn, the reason for our stop here. since it is West of Kansas City it only makes sense that we would stop to mow the lawn on our Journey Out West.
it also only makes sense to make a stop at my grandmother's house, also West of Kansas City, in Kansas' Mennonite farmland. the Land of my People, Germans and Dutchmen coming to America to be simple farmers. my grandmother is not a farmer. her father was. she left Kansas for the Gulf Coast and her dashing young husband. upon his death she returned. I would much rather visit her on the Coast.
it has taken me a long time to realize my love for Kansas. I am from the Missouri side, after all.
it is in my grandmother's apartment that we will sleep tonight. four hours West of Kansas City. four hours towards LA.
Another Good-Bye. the last before my parents leave me at LAX.
I am ready to leave this limestone box. will I think that about every place we stop? every place until I am so far West I've entered the East? or what if it doesn't stop?
Not all who wander are lost. I had the words permanently etched into my right side. black ink that will not fade away. I am finally giving in to my wanderlust.
“Well. We can leave.”
“I think we should. I'm trying to decide if I need to go to the bathroom first.”
my parents are ready. time for the next stop.
6/21/10 farewell to kansas//the Longest day of the year/the Shortest day of the year//day of driving, New Mexican Arrival
last night I remembered how much I love kansas. cottonwood trees, prairie birds, and there's something about the wind that feels like home to me. like rest stops and my great uncle's farm. like cool limestone buildings, like summer. I heard Cicadas last night. most people think they're annoying, but swear to god, I look forward to them every year. they sound like summer. I thought I wouldn't hear them this year. last night was the first time, and the last.
this morning we drove. this afternoon we drove. we gained an hour but my laptop hasn't realized it yet. all across kansas and a corner of colorado. I took some video with my new baby camera, just of the road, just of driving. I'm thinking I'll put a little something together during my two weeks before school starts. cheesy – I'm a cheesy person – I wore my straw cowboy hat all day. until we walked around trinidad and I figured it was either the camera or the hat, because the two together scream tourist more than i'd like to.
driving through the raton pass was gorgeous and familiar. I could see the sangre de cristo. like the blood of christ if mountains were his blood. freezing our asses off in those mountains, Brandon and Alex and me last december, right before he left. but Alex, I'm coming to see you. you'd better let me drive your car.
Box of Rain was playing as we came out the pass: we were in New Mexico and it really is the land of Enchantment like the signs say. I've been in love with it a little over a year now. something magical happened in march of '09, something pretty damn close to religious. I got there in the dark and when I woke up I was in the desert and I Could Remember My Name (Can, not Can't, as many people believe the lyrics to be). maybe it was because I needed to run away to a strange place so badly or maybe it was the joint I woke & boke with or maybe the effect New Mexico has on so many people really is something, this really is a beautiful and perfect place where you feel like you've found yourself even though you won't remember who it was you found when you get home. I bonded with my little red honda then. before that trip I refused to give it a name because we didn't get along. after that trip I refused to give it a name because of the America song (which I've already so classily referred to). I sold her a couple weeks ago. New Mexico forgave me. before I came to this place on my first trip alone. this time I'm not alone but next week I will be. I'm Wandering: am I Lost?
we've set up camp in the cimarron canyon national park, right by philmont, the Mecca of Boyscouting. everyone who's been here thinks it's heaven. it reminds me a lot of my family's camp in colorado, Rocky Mountain Mennonite Camp. that place is heaven if New Mexico isn't. I would love to show it to you sometime. I would love to take you all there. I think that's where I'd like to get married, like my daddy wanted to.
tomorrow, more Wandering.
6/22/10 the day I saw Jacob Black, Or, how I learned to … something clever.
honestly, I'm exhausted. I don't know how much I'll write.
this camping trip is the first time I've had the luxury of an air mattress for sleeping, though that luxury was short-lived last night as mine apparently had a leak in it.
it would be mine.
my back was on the ground all night but the mattress retained enough air to keep my legs and arms afloat. I didn't sleep much but didn't feel like doing anything about it. not that there was much to do. except perhaps give up and just sleep flat on the ground. in retrospect, that probably would have been the best option.
drove through the mountains. saw lots of motorcycles, and Outbacks. I'd like both of those if I weren't gunshy of the former.
Trout Fishing In America. witnessed it firsthand. Braughtigan, thought of you all day.
we went to Taos today. Georgia O'Keefe, other artists, other neat things. there's even a road called Artist road. everyone loves to talk to someone who will talk to them. especially photographers. I got a barista to make me a rothko even though I'm pretty sure it's a made-up drink. she got it better than most Nerman employees do.
Jacob Black pre-flailing_abs seated us under a vibrant colored umbrella at lunchtime. I can't remember if it was red or blue or green but it was one of those.
by the time we reached Santa Fe I'd shot enough video to make my little baby die. we thought we'd have electricity at our campsite, or at least in the bathrooms, or at least a shower, but none of those things were there when we arrived. my hair was greasy and I refused to accept that I might have to spend a Wednesday without lil D, so with my encouragement we found a motel 6. the campsite was beautiful, so we're staying there tomorrow – we had both nights booked anyway. the motel has the Internet. my Addiction can be fed.
the sun is mighty powerful here, enough to make you want to curl up under a tree and nap the afternoon away. but not enough to darken my skin. a Pollock commented on my white skin today. complimented on my white skin today. I still would rather my love for the Zia show.
I am exhausted. this is much as I will write.
the first leg of our trip is nothing extraordinary. we drove to my parent's Mid Life Purchase, a 1930s limestone one-room schoolhouse turned duplex that is slowly being transformed into a loftspace, a weekend home, a getaway in Kansas' underrated Flint Hills. it smells like mold.
my father just mowed the lawn, the reason for our stop here. since it is West of Kansas City it only makes sense that we would stop to mow the lawn on our Journey Out West.
it also only makes sense to make a stop at my grandmother's house, also West of Kansas City, in Kansas' Mennonite farmland. the Land of my People, Germans and Dutchmen coming to America to be simple farmers. my grandmother is not a farmer. her father was. she left Kansas for the Gulf Coast and her dashing young husband. upon his death she returned. I would much rather visit her on the Coast.
it has taken me a long time to realize my love for Kansas. I am from the Missouri side, after all.
it is in my grandmother's apartment that we will sleep tonight. four hours West of Kansas City. four hours towards LA.
Another Good-Bye. the last before my parents leave me at LAX.
I am ready to leave this limestone box. will I think that about every place we stop? every place until I am so far West I've entered the East? or what if it doesn't stop?
Not all who wander are lost. I had the words permanently etched into my right side. black ink that will not fade away. I am finally giving in to my wanderlust.
“Well. We can leave.”
“I think we should. I'm trying to decide if I need to go to the bathroom first.”
my parents are ready. time for the next stop.
6/21/10 farewell to kansas//the Longest day of the year/the Shortest day of the year//day of driving, New Mexican Arrival
last night I remembered how much I love kansas. cottonwood trees, prairie birds, and there's something about the wind that feels like home to me. like rest stops and my great uncle's farm. like cool limestone buildings, like summer. I heard Cicadas last night. most people think they're annoying, but swear to god, I look forward to them every year. they sound like summer. I thought I wouldn't hear them this year. last night was the first time, and the last.
this morning we drove. this afternoon we drove. we gained an hour but my laptop hasn't realized it yet. all across kansas and a corner of colorado. I took some video with my new baby camera, just of the road, just of driving. I'm thinking I'll put a little something together during my two weeks before school starts. cheesy – I'm a cheesy person – I wore my straw cowboy hat all day. until we walked around trinidad and I figured it was either the camera or the hat, because the two together scream tourist more than i'd like to.
driving through the raton pass was gorgeous and familiar. I could see the sangre de cristo. like the blood of christ if mountains were his blood. freezing our asses off in those mountains, Brandon and Alex and me last december, right before he left. but Alex, I'm coming to see you. you'd better let me drive your car.
Box of Rain was playing as we came out the pass: we were in New Mexico and it really is the land of Enchantment like the signs say. I've been in love with it a little over a year now. something magical happened in march of '09, something pretty damn close to religious. I got there in the dark and when I woke up I was in the desert and I Could Remember My Name (Can, not Can't, as many people believe the lyrics to be). maybe it was because I needed to run away to a strange place so badly or maybe it was the joint I woke & boke with or maybe the effect New Mexico has on so many people really is something, this really is a beautiful and perfect place where you feel like you've found yourself even though you won't remember who it was you found when you get home. I bonded with my little red honda then. before that trip I refused to give it a name because we didn't get along. after that trip I refused to give it a name because of the America song (which I've already so classily referred to). I sold her a couple weeks ago. New Mexico forgave me. before I came to this place on my first trip alone. this time I'm not alone but next week I will be. I'm Wandering: am I Lost?
we've set up camp in the cimarron canyon national park, right by philmont, the Mecca of Boyscouting. everyone who's been here thinks it's heaven. it reminds me a lot of my family's camp in colorado, Rocky Mountain Mennonite Camp. that place is heaven if New Mexico isn't. I would love to show it to you sometime. I would love to take you all there. I think that's where I'd like to get married, like my daddy wanted to.
tomorrow, more Wandering.
6/22/10 the day I saw Jacob Black, Or, how I learned to … something clever.
honestly, I'm exhausted. I don't know how much I'll write.
this camping trip is the first time I've had the luxury of an air mattress for sleeping, though that luxury was short-lived last night as mine apparently had a leak in it.
it would be mine.
my back was on the ground all night but the mattress retained enough air to keep my legs and arms afloat. I didn't sleep much but didn't feel like doing anything about it. not that there was much to do. except perhaps give up and just sleep flat on the ground. in retrospect, that probably would have been the best option.
drove through the mountains. saw lots of motorcycles, and Outbacks. I'd like both of those if I weren't gunshy of the former.
Trout Fishing In America. witnessed it firsthand. Braughtigan, thought of you all day.
we went to Taos today. Georgia O'Keefe, other artists, other neat things. there's even a road called Artist road. everyone loves to talk to someone who will talk to them. especially photographers. I got a barista to make me a rothko even though I'm pretty sure it's a made-up drink. she got it better than most Nerman employees do.
Jacob Black pre-flailing_abs seated us under a vibrant colored umbrella at lunchtime. I can't remember if it was red or blue or green but it was one of those.
by the time we reached Santa Fe I'd shot enough video to make my little baby die. we thought we'd have electricity at our campsite, or at least in the bathrooms, or at least a shower, but none of those things were there when we arrived. my hair was greasy and I refused to accept that I might have to spend a Wednesday without lil D, so with my encouragement we found a motel 6. the campsite was beautiful, so we're staying there tomorrow – we had both nights booked anyway. the motel has the Internet. my Addiction can be fed.
the sun is mighty powerful here, enough to make you want to curl up under a tree and nap the afternoon away. but not enough to darken my skin. a Pollock commented on my white skin today. complimented on my white skin today. I still would rather my love for the Zia show.
I am exhausted. this is much as I will write.
20 June, 2010
steichen.
absolutely beautiful steichen exhibit up at the nelson right now.
here's a photo i illegally took of one of my faves.
steichen believed that there should be no difference between commercial and fine art photography. "Take good pictures, and the art will take care of itself."
i don't think that's true anymore.
what do you think?
here's a photo i illegally took of one of my faves.
steichen believed that there should be no difference between commercial and fine art photography. "Take good pictures, and the art will take care of itself."
i don't think that's true anymore.
what do you think?
17 June, 2010
astrology.com
i don't know why i read these every day. i don't believe them.
but it's creepy how i can apply them to my life sometimes.
14 June, 2010
12 June, 2010
11 June, 2010
do you swear? (every damn day)
some days have been missed between my last daily lydia post and now
but here's some since then
4/6/10
4/24/10
5/3/10
5/11/10
5/16/10
5/17/10
5/21/10
5/23/10
6/1/10
6/4/10
6/9/10
but here's some since then
4/6/10
4/24/10
5/3/10
5/11/10
5/16/10
5/17/10
5/21/10
5/23/10
6/1/10
6/4/10
6/9/10
10 June, 2010
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