My own!

I'm doing a series on ceilings, basically a desperate photographer stuck in bed photographing the only thing that changes in a very unchanging room.  Light, Time, what have you.  These are just digital testers, but i got my prints developed yesterday and they came out FANTASTICALLY. I was so happy to see them, they surpassed my expectations 100%. 

other odds and ends on my desktop

ode to photo

Last night I managed to crutch out of the house and go to the goodbye party of two photographers who are my parents friends and I have known for years. They are moving to oakland !! Ken Graves and Eva Lipman, both really skilled photographers. I have no idea how they manage to find the odd things they do. Each image they take seems to be from another world, capturing the perfect moment to create an image both visually striking and often amazingly humorous. They do all their work together, and refuse to tie their individual names to any of their work. They apply for grants together, publish books together and get shows this way too. as one sort of entity.  Pretty interesting I think. 

Here are some of their Prom photographs. 

And then more from a Bath series: 

Now Ryan McGinley. 

 McGinley! (a very young,  well known photographer, possibly the youngest to represent a country in the Venice Biennially, I'm not sure don't quote me on that).  Anyway, His photographs seem to portray him as some sort of party boy. Hippy, free spirit maybe dabbling in copious amounts of cocaine and / or other drugs.... well apparently he is none of these things. He sets up each image to depict something he wishes he could be/ do. For me, the knowledge that he is creating this other kind of world for himself makes them so much more interesting. 

Looking at these images makes me wish I could photograph people...

look at those eyes.

ahhh

looks like fun.

numbers

Last night I read that scar tissue starts developing after 18 days, Its day 13 today and I'm only at 90 degrees. I need to get Full range of motion by day 18, or else I'm FUCKED. so that means today consists of a hell of a lot of knee bendin'.

every 2 hours. yuck.

A part of me is terrified I wont be able to bend my knee all the way, I don't want count Beelzebub aka my doctor to have to force it, like I hear some do.

on a more depressing note, I'm unable to get on FFFfound.com today, It keeps on redirecting me to some weird domain site where they ask me to buy the domain. I don't want your stupid domain,

I want FFFfound damn it.

PrettyUgly

Oh and..  Sorry I can't help myself ...

little art school critique coming out.... ehh try to stay with me.

on the opposite side of this genre of women painters painting uglypretty, and prettyugly I found Lisa Yuskavage who pushed this idea a little more,

I feel as though her approach was more challenging. her paintings take something beautiful, and paint it ... not? not ugly, for her paintings are beautiful paintings but...the women she portrays are not quite beautiful. I mean, they are close..but something is off.

It's confusing, for they exemplify everything considered attractive for women in vain modern society. Her girls have perky full breasts and round curvy hips..complete with teeny tiny waists.  Exaggerating these features and pushing them to their extremes, even beyond their extremes what would be considered ideal or even beyond perfect turns....just bizarre. That's where the "not so beautiful" comes in. 

I'm not so sure of these, but they're interesting alright. Plus, the artists has psychological problems I read? Or she has a shrink, but hey, don't we all?  

Jenny Saville!!!!

If I were a painter, I would want to be Jenny Saville.

She is fantastic. Her work is ballsy. Rough. No Cliche's here.  Nor does her work show any attempts at clinging to the "pretty" aesthetic I see prevalent among certain peers. Her paintings are beautiful, I am not saying they are ugly, yet she doesn't paint pretty flowers, and make them pretty. (easy).

  

Rather Anti "hipsteresque"....nothing like the snobby knobs who think "art" means regurgitating old cliche's of dismal and poetically depressed Parisian artist types living in western Europe, attempting to call back from the dead the time where it wasn't "cool" to calling home a cramped (in mod hipster speak= cramped is quaint)  flat above a dingy pastry shop.... spending days painting their lifeless still lives. I see it now, muted tones, a coffee cup filled with black coffee, positioned oddly yet cutely next to the morning paper, maybe showing a hint of a cigarette smoke. probably cloves. Oh I'm not naming names, I hate you. What happens when life happens?  Jenny Saville, you have life by the balls, and other anatomical parts. 

me, and some things i fffffound

ugh.

I am at war with my bones

Last night I woke up every two hours to take a pill, and apparently this much percocet in my body creates bizarre dreams. 

Last night I was in a war

not participating in the war, but running away from it. I dont remember most of the dream but the last "scene" happened looking down from a helicopter fleeing some sort of army encampment in the desert. Everything was yellow and hot, yellow sand, yellow air, yellow heat.  

our helicopter dropped a ball of fire, perhaps some sort of bomb and BAM it was as if the air was flammable. The heat spread the fire everywhere instantly, and created a sort of modern day hell,  and then i woke up. 

pain pain painpainpainpaaain. My reality seems to be something kind of similar. 

Today was mediocre at best. 

It began rough. 

Last night I had 2 hours of sleep, well, maybe I am exaggerating a bit. I went to bed early, since i had little to no sleep the night before, at nine. I set my alarm to go off every two hours to take a painkiller, yet i guess i made a mistake for setting it at 11 am, rather then pm. I woke up from pain at 1am, five hours past the time i went to bed, and in AGONY. 

the only worse thing than agony, is agony in the middle of the night. 

The only thing worse than agony in the middle of the night

 is agony in the middle of the night while needing to piss 

 being unable to move due to the loss of a leg, and  the inability to move 

any part of the body

since it has been taken over by pain. 

Let me describe this sort of pain.

This sort of pain makes your teeth chatter, it is like lust in the way that when it is present, nothing else exists, everything aside for the immediate pain loses its importance. It makes your hips clench, it makes your eyes squint, and your entire body becomes livid and tense. Pain does not discriminate between one part of your body and the other, rather it moves from its birthplace and quickly takes over all parts of the body and mind. Your glands produce water, and you soon realize you are laying in the dampness of your own sweat. This pain does not "throb" like a paper cut, or a swollen ankle. This pain... hmm... this pain feels similar to the way a knife would feel if it was lodged in your knee cap. for HOURS. Constant, never ending, Days upon days upon days upon daysupondaysupondaysupon. Well you get my drift. Basically i feel like shit, and when the pain is here, it feels like its never going to leave.  

Also, it makes you look like shit !

 

tillie the cat and my matted hair

What Macbook photo booth has taught me during this whole shit fest is what I really look like when I have visitors over.... it might have been better NOT to know.

thank you Tillie for not complaining like everyone else who has to sit around and watch my leg heal.

This is after conditioner... I wish I had a before.