not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Friday, February 10, 2012

what i'll never know because of the nature of footprints



i learn who i am in retrospect always catching up with myself god i walk so quickly and who knew that corner was going to be there and what then what after what when my foot has already passed the threshold this i lament that it will be too late.

8 comments:

  1. what a technique

    you keep pushing to new levels e.

    ReplyDelete
  2. When you make a picture are not always aware of the result I also need to retrospective myself. But I know for sure what I like and what I feel comfortable., Then you just have to find those footprints and putting them on like a worn shoe. We enter the world of sensations in the same way that it enters the world of dreams. I love poetry and prose of Bernardo Atxaga, one thing comes into my in the same way that there are images that come upon me, just a matter of agree.
    a poem de Bernardo Atxaga:

    Seagulls

    Every evening
    the city seagulls
    gather in front of the station
    to mull over their loves.

    In their scrapbook
    two sandalwood flowers:
    one marks the page of bridges,
    the other the page of thieves.

    They like the cracked roofs
    and the scraps from the market.

    But what their little hearts
    - their acrobats' hearts -
    care for most
    is the unending passage of the days
    with their infinite changes.

    ReplyDelete
  3. You speak of retrospective as you know yourself, it's funny because in your image you have created a sort of curtain, hair seems to prevent access to your face, you keep that window half open but not accessible.
    Have big and beautiful eyes, let in the light.
    a warm hug

    ReplyDelete
  4. ollie, thank you, i think. i'm not so sure about technique. i play:)

    damaso, because of only knowing myself fully in retrospect (as my footprints pass out behind me) i am shielded from full self knowledge by my very self. the curtain of hair is another photograph of me i took the same day, yesterday.

    bernardo atxaga's poem tells me seagulls are very lucky. some days i am lucky to almost be a seagull. today i stopped on my walk in the forest and considered the river a long time. being human just didn't feel right. not that it is wrong, but it is not everything.

    xo
    erin

    ReplyDelete
  5. i sense the joy in your lament, too.

    i am trying to translate this from Jean Genet:

    "How to grasp the secret of the disappearance of things? turning around very quickly? no. even more rapidly? more rapidly than anything? one would need to turn unto himself with the speed of an airplane. then one would notice that the things themselves have disappeared, and the self also, together with them"

    ReplyDelete
  6. thanks, peter)))

    roxana, good. thank you.)) there is sweetness in any lament, isn't there, this being proof that we are alive, sentient?

    i love this piece by jean genet, it being only by flying through the moment that we are in the moment and thereby no longer existing at all. this tells me something very important, for all of my struggling, it is within the tension of time itself (and ego) that we exist. i have a love/hate relationship with all of these things, time, ego, existing. mostly i love existing, but even then there are moments...i think this is the natural state of man and i think your latest movie speaks directly to it on many levels that can be talked about and many that can only be felt.

    xo
    erin

    ReplyDelete
  7. i ask the one person who knows the me beyond me what they see in the moment of my asking because looking back all the time drags and pulls me thinner than i already am . . . steven

    ReplyDelete

"Words at the limit of hearing, attributable to no one, received in the conch of the ear like dew by a leaf." (philippe jaccottet) or even a quiet presence is appreciated))