Hot Shower

Hot Shower, a photo by rjbeeswax on Flickr.

Counting-out Rhyme: Edna St. Vincent Millay

Counting-out Rhyme
by Edna St. Vincent Millay

Silver bark of beech, and sallow
Bark of yellow birch and yellow
Twig of willow.

Stripe of green in moosewood maple,
Colour seen in leaf of apple,
Bark of popple.

Wood of popple pale as moonbeam,
Wood of oak for yoke and barn-beam,
Wood of hornbeam.

Silver bark of beech, and hollow
Stem of elder, tall and yellow
Twig of willow.

sing-song

sing-song, a photo by rjbeeswax on Flickr.

Zombanawi

Zombanawi, a photo by rjbeeswax on Flickr.

Discovery Project, VFS

For my third term "discovery project" at VFS I chose to learn how to create vignette's in photoshop (manually / not pre-sets), I also wanted to learn how to recreate a sort of stylized cross-prossesing look using "curves" in photoshop, again, no pre-sets.

The third component, and by far the most difficult, was to put my theoretical knowledge of Parajanov's stylistic mannerisms and try to apply some of those techniques in my own work. With special thanks to Professor James M. Steffen of Emory University in Atlanta, for answering my questions and being able to so clearly explain Parajanov's tricks, those mannerisms are:
1. Frontally staged tableaux
2. Empty picture frame as compositional device and decorative motif
3. Still life compositions
4.Tripartitie compositions within individual shots
5.Pantomime and other experiments with the actors movements
-- to a lesser degree, the self-contained nature of many shots, the use of central vanishing point and rhyming shots.

I wouldn't for a moment suggest I succeeded in recreating anything more than a mostly thoughtless homage to Parajanov's style but I do appreciate his style very much and would like to further explore his compositional techniques in the future. The pomegranates in the shots are supposed to be a lighthearted nod to one of my favorite directors and also an acknowledgement of the beauty of the vital particulars, (whether pomegranates, apples, shoes, hair, knives, or mountains...), that are necessary components in creating Beauty on the whole.

Out of my many shots I posted here in this set I think 2, or being generous, perhaps delusional, 3 of my compositions succeed. The rest are here mostly for posterity.

while walking home

while walking home: he was engaged in something-- it required that he move backwards. he was holding his arms out in front of him, he was chewing and smiling grinning. his name was glen and in his #1 hand he had a sandwich. he bought it from Mac's convenience store at 1:00am. I am not sure, I cannot be certain, but I am suggesting here it was a tuna salad sandwich. The Girl, whose name shall remain a mystery was drunk. The girl, whose fluctuating capitalization remains the constant was going to piss in an alley that was, in fact, entirely too well lit. She fell a little bit but caught herself before any damage was done. still, she swayed and thought in the brief ambience about honey coating her brain-stem, the sound of throat bubbles and reflections of form. girl, she stayed down upon the orange, the littering light. Girl was grounded and felt her head lower until it touched the pavement. she created crescent waves with the back of her neck and wanted to laugh but nothing was happening. she stood up quickly, uprighted, and became a wobble. she shouted out to Glen, "Glen" she said, she said, she said. "Glen!" she said, she said, He was pointing back at her walking backwards smiling, his cheeks were dirty and wanting kisses, he wanted to laugh at her. he was holding a tuna salad sandwich and the illumination was less immediate on the portion of sidewalk that surrounded him. the cloud i couldn't see separated all of us.

pleased

 In the mirror, I seemed a little pink, a little yellow. My eyebrows were really weedy, yellowish green and growing again. I love them. The thickeees. I love feeling manly, old, aged. In this context anyway. Oh, I imagined trimming my chest hair. It's probably time for a trim. I like my chest hair but it's might be just one of those things that needs to be scheduled/ given into. Norms.

What else. Is this a “Dear Diary” entry? Why now? Why not? Ok. Ok. On. On. On. On.

I've been revisiting my teachers again (that happens often when I'm inspired and discouraged as often as I have been recently), the Dalia Lama my favorite zealot so far. Ha. Honestly, I'm constantly inspired and improved by each lesson. The H.H.D.L. has a gift for expressing incredibly dense ideas. It's not that he makes them easier to understand so much as it becomes apparent when you read his work that his sincere desire to communicate and to not hold back, his motivation to share, if you will, is beautiful and touching. It's the wisdom that needs to be expressed. HHDL is gifting it to us, telling us that it's not easy to absorb, perhaps not even fully absorbable but that we need to dedicate ourselves to wisdom when it whispers in our ear, or face a lifetime of negligence and cowardice. You cannot remove truth from your mind even if the truth bounces between the false borders of contrary views and paradoxes.

I don't make sense as I understand. I am pleased.

Young friends worth charming.

Young friends worth charming.

Beyond the unwild paths,
you haunt away an hour, discovering days and insects,
a jar of earth with no bottom.

The ferns bellowing new fall brown,
the grown crow's sunlit, golden crowns,
past the Buddhists on the banks,
in the triangles of slow water.

It's Saturday shaking the sun,
hiccuping past each jutting rock and glinting rapid,
you
only show the universe.

The roots, avoid,
the branches, dodge,
that leaves a gap of unconscious air
and velocity to fall
from the cliffs
to the flexing rapids of Lynn Canyon
so many seconds below.

Joy in the plundering bubbles born,
my new, uncovered braveness
swims to the cliffs,
still under the sea,
it sits, it squeezes off
and the black tea of the trees
stuck on my neck, discovering me,
weighing more
I casually leave on.

I balance
upon the rocks that act as floors,
harnessing trees,
we are setting scenes
of awareness.