and -
*
*
* not shot by me
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
Showing posts with label personal. Show all posts
29 June, 2011
01 September, 2010
12 July, 2010
7/5/10 Arrival. //my new HomeTown
New Zealand is like itself. it's not like the people and situations are that different from midtown, just that they're different. and not how I imagined, even though I knew about most of these elements or.... Had seen them in pictures. I had a photographic idea of what New Zealand was like, which is essentially how I have of most things... unless I saw them earlier in my life. I first saw Europe early enough that I don't quite remember what I thought of it before. but this place I have only seen in images before now. it could be explained to me in entire detail, but my idea of it was formed around a hallucination. I mean photographs and videos and writing depend so much more on our imagination than actually being a place, and so much of the world we will only see that way.
but I made it here. I don't know anything to call it besides an alternate reality, entirely its own. New Zealand is like itself.
I'm going to be living in this house with five other people. I've never lived with so many people before. I'm pretty excited, really. never having lived like this before will make it even more different. plus, I'm such a social person, I try to make myself around other people all the time.
we have studio space at art school. I went there today and enrolled and claimed a little corner of the studio. of course, this is second semester that's about to start, so I'm coming in the middle of their school year. I'm excited to have a studio space.
these are all things I could do back in Kansas City, but it wouldn't be quite the same because everything here is slightly different. it's like a dream like that. something's always off. names of things are different, but some are the same... there are so many things here that if I just saw in a dream could make me realize I was dreaming because they'd never happen in Real Life. I prefer dream-life better than waking-life sometimes, just because of the feelings I get when I'm dreaming. I kind of feel equally comfortable here. nothing is unhandlable or too stressful, so far..... but what can I really say about that, I've only been here since Thursday.
I've said several times here that I'm Excited. it's true.
I love the way this house looks. the color combinations are awful and perfect at the same time. the old velveteen couch and the non-working fireplace in my bedroom. the cat stained glass window door. then there's this incredible view out back. there are little locations everywhere that I want to use for photographs.
I admit I am unsure about what I will do for thesis. but everyone here is creative and all very driven with that creativity. I'm sitting next to my “flatmate” who is working on a budget proposal. I'm not very worried about it.
everyone is so nice, too.
but I made it here. I don't know anything to call it besides an alternate reality, entirely its own. New Zealand is like itself.
I'm going to be living in this house with five other people. I've never lived with so many people before. I'm pretty excited, really. never having lived like this before will make it even more different. plus, I'm such a social person, I try to make myself around other people all the time.
we have studio space at art school. I went there today and enrolled and claimed a little corner of the studio. of course, this is second semester that's about to start, so I'm coming in the middle of their school year. I'm excited to have a studio space.
these are all things I could do back in Kansas City, but it wouldn't be quite the same because everything here is slightly different. it's like a dream like that. something's always off. names of things are different, but some are the same... there are so many things here that if I just saw in a dream could make me realize I was dreaming because they'd never happen in Real Life. I prefer dream-life better than waking-life sometimes, just because of the feelings I get when I'm dreaming. I kind of feel equally comfortable here. nothing is unhandlable or too stressful, so far..... but what can I really say about that, I've only been here since Thursday.
I've said several times here that I'm Excited. it's true.
I love the way this house looks. the color combinations are awful and perfect at the same time. the old velveteen couch and the non-working fireplace in my bedroom. the cat stained glass window door. then there's this incredible view out back. there are little locations everywhere that I want to use for photographs.
I admit I am unsure about what I will do for thesis. but everyone here is creative and all very driven with that creativity. I'm sitting next to my “flatmate” who is working on a budget proposal. I'm not very worried about it.
everyone is so nice, too.
01 July, 2010
6/29/10, disappearing 6/30/10, and some 7/1/10
6/29/10 LAX //my Last day in america
I write this sitting in LAX, unable to get a wireless signal (without paying 7.99 for a t-mobile day pass)
this morning I repacked my things in preparation for my flight. I was concerned that my bags would surpass the weight limit; we weighed them at home and they just barely cut it, after I removed a few items that I “didn't need to take to new zealand, but want for the road trip.” of course, I forgot what those items were by now. but my bags passed. I passed security. all that stands between me and my flight to Sydney is an hour before boarding begins (and Anything could happen in that hour, Knowing Me.)
we saw a classier part of hollywood today. the northeastern bit, Las Feliz was it called? my parents recognized a restaurant where a state farm insurance commercial was shot, (though they thought it was an AT&T commercial and couldn't remember Luke Wilson's name) so we stopped there. it was lovely. a little french place. as we sat outside I watched hipsters go by (or at least, the closest things to hipsters I've seen in LA) – this must be the Cool side of hollywood.
we saw some Frank Lloyd Wright houses, from the outside, anyway, and stopped in a museum that was actually closed but looked at the exhibit anyway. I enjoyed it. I wrote down the names of the artists-
Fumiko Amano, Linda Arreola, Sean Duffy, Sam Erenberg, Mary Beth Heffeman, Jesse Lemer, Brian Moss, Michael Pierzynski, Rebecca Ripple, Tran T. Kim-Tran, Fernando D. Castro, Maria Elena Bodmann, Ken Roht. maybe I'll look in to them later.
we finally got to Venice. it's beautiful. houses I'd love to live in. attractive men. we ate at an amazing wine bar, I can't remember the name of it now, but it was happy hour and we got little appetizers and shared and kept getting different things, the way I really like to eat. it was all amazing food. we had oysters that were the Best I've Ever Had. as a last meal in America, it was tops. we finished it off with some Humbolt Fog cheese. if you haven't had that and you get a chance to, take it. it's world class, top notch, amazing. we'd had it before, thanks to our friends in Humbolt (and as I'm sure many of you know, things that come from Humbolt are generally good..)
V Australia is the airline I'm flying on. it's part of virgin airlines. very hip, their check in counter had colored lights and Lady Gaga playing. I hope their attention to detail extends to their airplanes.
I already miss my cell phone. three times between leaving it in my dad's truck and now I thought of texting various people. not being able to connect to the internet (something I expected to be easy at an airport this large) is also putting a damper on things … but I'll survive, and perhaps there will be internet in Sydney. I hope there's internet in Sydney. I've got a three and
– I was just interrupted by someone, a twenty something guy I noticed checking me out earlier. sat down next to me and said “excuse me, I'd like to ask you a few questions.” “okay.” “first of all, what's your name?” “Lydia” “Leah, okay” “no, Lydia” “oh, Lydia. Where are you headed?” “New Zealand” “New Zealand! wow. what are you doing there?” “going to school.” “wow” “study abroad” “wow, okay. well, never mind then, I just wanted to see where you were headed.” and away he went.
the woman across from me raised an eyebrow and I caught her eye. we both shook our heads and laughed.
three hours and ten minutes at the Sydney airport. I don't know if I'm allowed to leave. I'd like to step outside and say I went to Sydney, but I think it's unlikely. for that, I would pay 7.99 to go online.
I wish that guy had stayed to talk to me, even though I had no interest in him and he was seemingly looking for someone headed the same direction as him for reasons I can only assume. I want someone to talk to. I feel actually alone now. I'm leaving my home for six months. am I crazy? no, of course not. well, yes, but no.
the woman who gave me my boarding pass said “you're not coming back until December? wow, that's a long time.” “yeah, I'm going to school there.”
I know I won't be alone when I get there. Alex will be there. and my new friends who I haven't met yet, Angela and Mishca and Emily and my four other housemates, all those people will be there. but I am going to a foreign country, a strange place, when I've never lived outside of Kansas City before, when I've never been away from it for more than a month (and I complained about homesickness a lot in that month, too... I was eleven, but still.)
“uh, Las Vegas was very hot. it was a hundred and eight degrees when we left. yeah, yeah. yeah, we're at Los Angeles airport now.” he's got an Australian accent, I think. or maybe not- “we go straight to Sydney, then we have to get another flight.” doesn't sound Kiwi to me, but could be I suppose... nah, sounds Australian. (Las Vegas WAS very hot.) Australian: “we'll be getting back to Brisbane late thursday or early friday.”
thirty-eight minutes til my flight begins boarding.
I think I'll find a place to buy a Coke or go to the bathroom or something to fill up the time.
//flight. -somewhere over the pacific ocean //(turbulence apparently does not equal crashing on the Island)
the kid sitting next to me did turn out to be friendly. he's on this flight with the rest of his college choir. they're staying in australia, touring and performing. he's an architecture major. it's nice getting to know someone I'll never see again.
most people are asleep right now. it's 5am in kansas city, 3am in LA, but about 8pm in sydney, I believe. a little over nine hours before we land. I didn't want to go to sleep until the time I plan on going to sleep every night, local time. that way i'll sleep at that time tomorrow. I don't know, it made sense to me. if I went to sleep now it'd only be an hour later than I went to sleep the last two nights. pretty much everyone is asleep. the perfect time to take my daily lydia shot... assuming the flash doesn't wake my friend. which it might. i've already been the girl in the motel bar taking a picture of herself, why not be the girl on the flight taking a picture of herself? I'm still so self conscious sometimes. only when I'm alone. maybe I'll wait until morning, and explain to my new friend what I'm doing. I don't even know his name.
self consciousness wins. I'm going to sleep.
6/30/10 in America, 7/1/10 in Australia //the Longest day ever/Sydney\\
I never took a photo of myself on the airplane. that's okay. but both 6/29 and now 6/30 have gone undocumented, as today is 7/1/10 for me. time travel is exhausting. because everyone went to sleep when they would have in America on the flight they also woke up around the same time they would in America, which was about two hours after that last post. people started talking, kids were loud (one child in particular had a cough, poor dear, though I'm hardly sympathetic with someone who coughs every two minutes for an hour straight when I'm trying to sleep), lights even came back on. I gave up on sleep. those complimentary eye masks don't blog sound, and I can't do ear plugs.
my friend's name was Steven. I first discovered this as I was trying to sleep and one of his friends came over to talk to him. “stee-VEN, stee-VEN” -that's how she always said his name. and she said it a lot.
V Australia flights have games on their little “entertainment systems” stuck to the back of every seat. Steven and I played each other in battleship, tetris, and yahtzee. this is how we Officially learned each other's names. he handed me an earbud and played me Paramore and Thrice. I handed him one and played him Fleet Foxes and Iron & Wine. oh, V Australia's planes are quite hip – mood lighting that changes colors (blue during sleepy time, soft orange during food and landing, and purple the rest of the time) and music in the bathrooms (they were also playing Fleet Foxes. what a coincidence.)
we arrived in Sydney later than we were scheduled to, around 6:30AM. I am not allowed to leave the airport. security was much simpler than in LA. I spent ten dollars on a ham & cheese croissant and a bottle of water – ten Australian dollars, however much that is. seemed over priced to me. plus using my credit card means the bank will charge me an additional 3%.
(((the rest of this entry is crap and i will not post it at this time)))
I write this sitting in LAX, unable to get a wireless signal (without paying 7.99 for a t-mobile day pass)
this morning I repacked my things in preparation for my flight. I was concerned that my bags would surpass the weight limit; we weighed them at home and they just barely cut it, after I removed a few items that I “didn't need to take to new zealand, but want for the road trip.” of course, I forgot what those items were by now. but my bags passed. I passed security. all that stands between me and my flight to Sydney is an hour before boarding begins (and Anything could happen in that hour, Knowing Me.)
we saw a classier part of hollywood today. the northeastern bit, Las Feliz was it called? my parents recognized a restaurant where a state farm insurance commercial was shot, (though they thought it was an AT&T commercial and couldn't remember Luke Wilson's name) so we stopped there. it was lovely. a little french place. as we sat outside I watched hipsters go by (or at least, the closest things to hipsters I've seen in LA) – this must be the Cool side of hollywood.
we saw some Frank Lloyd Wright houses, from the outside, anyway, and stopped in a museum that was actually closed but looked at the exhibit anyway. I enjoyed it. I wrote down the names of the artists-
Fumiko Amano, Linda Arreola, Sean Duffy, Sam Erenberg, Mary Beth Heffeman, Jesse Lemer, Brian Moss, Michael Pierzynski, Rebecca Ripple, Tran T. Kim-Tran, Fernando D. Castro, Maria Elena Bodmann, Ken Roht. maybe I'll look in to them later.
we finally got to Venice. it's beautiful. houses I'd love to live in. attractive men. we ate at an amazing wine bar, I can't remember the name of it now, but it was happy hour and we got little appetizers and shared and kept getting different things, the way I really like to eat. it was all amazing food. we had oysters that were the Best I've Ever Had. as a last meal in America, it was tops. we finished it off with some Humbolt Fog cheese. if you haven't had that and you get a chance to, take it. it's world class, top notch, amazing. we'd had it before, thanks to our friends in Humbolt (and as I'm sure many of you know, things that come from Humbolt are generally good..)
V Australia is the airline I'm flying on. it's part of virgin airlines. very hip, their check in counter had colored lights and Lady Gaga playing. I hope their attention to detail extends to their airplanes.
I already miss my cell phone. three times between leaving it in my dad's truck and now I thought of texting various people. not being able to connect to the internet (something I expected to be easy at an airport this large) is also putting a damper on things … but I'll survive, and perhaps there will be internet in Sydney. I hope there's internet in Sydney. I've got a three and
– I was just interrupted by someone, a twenty something guy I noticed checking me out earlier. sat down next to me and said “excuse me, I'd like to ask you a few questions.” “okay.” “first of all, what's your name?” “Lydia” “Leah, okay” “no, Lydia” “oh, Lydia. Where are you headed?” “New Zealand” “New Zealand! wow. what are you doing there?” “going to school.” “wow” “study abroad” “wow, okay. well, never mind then, I just wanted to see where you were headed.” and away he went.
the woman across from me raised an eyebrow and I caught her eye. we both shook our heads and laughed.
three hours and ten minutes at the Sydney airport. I don't know if I'm allowed to leave. I'd like to step outside and say I went to Sydney, but I think it's unlikely. for that, I would pay 7.99 to go online.
I wish that guy had stayed to talk to me, even though I had no interest in him and he was seemingly looking for someone headed the same direction as him for reasons I can only assume. I want someone to talk to. I feel actually alone now. I'm leaving my home for six months. am I crazy? no, of course not. well, yes, but no.
the woman who gave me my boarding pass said “you're not coming back until December? wow, that's a long time.” “yeah, I'm going to school there.”
I know I won't be alone when I get there. Alex will be there. and my new friends who I haven't met yet, Angela and Mishca and Emily and my four other housemates, all those people will be there. but I am going to a foreign country, a strange place, when I've never lived outside of Kansas City before, when I've never been away from it for more than a month (and I complained about homesickness a lot in that month, too... I was eleven, but still.)
“uh, Las Vegas was very hot. it was a hundred and eight degrees when we left. yeah, yeah. yeah, we're at Los Angeles airport now.” he's got an Australian accent, I think. or maybe not- “we go straight to Sydney, then we have to get another flight.” doesn't sound Kiwi to me, but could be I suppose... nah, sounds Australian. (Las Vegas WAS very hot.) Australian: “we'll be getting back to Brisbane late thursday or early friday.”
thirty-eight minutes til my flight begins boarding.
I think I'll find a place to buy a Coke or go to the bathroom or something to fill up the time.
//flight. -somewhere over the pacific ocean //(turbulence apparently does not equal crashing on the Island)
the kid sitting next to me did turn out to be friendly. he's on this flight with the rest of his college choir. they're staying in australia, touring and performing. he's an architecture major. it's nice getting to know someone I'll never see again.
most people are asleep right now. it's 5am in kansas city, 3am in LA, but about 8pm in sydney, I believe. a little over nine hours before we land. I didn't want to go to sleep until the time I plan on going to sleep every night, local time. that way i'll sleep at that time tomorrow. I don't know, it made sense to me. if I went to sleep now it'd only be an hour later than I went to sleep the last two nights. pretty much everyone is asleep. the perfect time to take my daily lydia shot... assuming the flash doesn't wake my friend. which it might. i've already been the girl in the motel bar taking a picture of herself, why not be the girl on the flight taking a picture of herself? I'm still so self conscious sometimes. only when I'm alone. maybe I'll wait until morning, and explain to my new friend what I'm doing. I don't even know his name.
self consciousness wins. I'm going to sleep.
6/30/10 in America, 7/1/10 in Australia //the Longest day ever/Sydney\\
I never took a photo of myself on the airplane. that's okay. but both 6/29 and now 6/30 have gone undocumented, as today is 7/1/10 for me. time travel is exhausting. because everyone went to sleep when they would have in America on the flight they also woke up around the same time they would in America, which was about two hours after that last post. people started talking, kids were loud (one child in particular had a cough, poor dear, though I'm hardly sympathetic with someone who coughs every two minutes for an hour straight when I'm trying to sleep), lights even came back on. I gave up on sleep. those complimentary eye masks don't blog sound, and I can't do ear plugs.
my friend's name was Steven. I first discovered this as I was trying to sleep and one of his friends came over to talk to him. “stee-VEN, stee-VEN” -that's how she always said his name. and she said it a lot.
V Australia flights have games on their little “entertainment systems” stuck to the back of every seat. Steven and I played each other in battleship, tetris, and yahtzee. this is how we Officially learned each other's names. he handed me an earbud and played me Paramore and Thrice. I handed him one and played him Fleet Foxes and Iron & Wine. oh, V Australia's planes are quite hip – mood lighting that changes colors (blue during sleepy time, soft orange during food and landing, and purple the rest of the time) and music in the bathrooms (they were also playing Fleet Foxes. what a coincidence.)
we arrived in Sydney later than we were scheduled to, around 6:30AM. I am not allowed to leave the airport. security was much simpler than in LA. I spent ten dollars on a ham & cheese croissant and a bottle of water – ten Australian dollars, however much that is. seemed over priced to me. plus using my credit card means the bank will charge me an additional 3%.
(((the rest of this entry is crap and i will not post it at this time)))
29 June, 2010
6/28/10 Los Angeles, I'm Yours
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.
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.
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.
10 June, 2010
22 May, 2010
warning: let's get personal.
in just one month i will be leaving kansas city, and eight days after that i will be leaving these fair states.
i intend to begin using this blog as a journal of sorts to chronicle my adventures. while that will continue to include my artistic endeavors, i will also be writing on a more personal note.
just so you know.
i intend to begin using this blog as a journal of sorts to chronicle my adventures. while that will continue to include my artistic endeavors, i will also be writing on a more personal note.
just so you know.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)