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

Thursday, January 24, 2013

the death mask as the ordinary mask of one moment

from Roland Barthes' Camera Lucida:

"...Photography seems to me closer to the Theater, it is by way of a singular way of Death."

let this be your warning: i was 12 once too, 11, 9, 2, newborn suckling undefined mind. part of me dribbled out along the sweet curve of my mother's once young thigh and another part of me fell asleep forever in the bedclothes near the zipper of fur down my father's belly that i only knew but that once. let this be your warning like a dog's whistle that you can never hear, i was you, sweet you, sweet you.


  1. I vividly remember telling my mother that she was never sixteen when she refused to let me go out with friends.

    She only saw the dangers around me.
    Within a year, neither of us was around to yell at the other; neither of us saw the other's needs in the moment of that need. We are kind of stuck in the age we are; and nothing can change that.

  2. ,,,a painting with razor sharp bristles,,,infinitely deeper than the "surface"


"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))