Simple lessons need no words

Los Angeles - Robert Frank

I found this little video by accident.  Its little message about the meaning of life needs no words.  Please watch it to the end and share your comments and thoughts. 


Fallen from Sascha Geddert on Vimeo.

Be careful of your thoughts...

The Cage

Be careful of your thoughts; they may become words at any moment. --Ira Gassen

Maybe that is why I like photography.  I put out the image of my thoughts, you provide your own words for it.  


"Words are very unnecessary.  They can only do harm." 

This video is haunting to watch.  The song is great, but the setting and location and the shooting in bright, smoggy daylight gives me chills to watch.





Words like violence
Break the silence
Come crashing in
Into my little world
Painful to me
Pierce right through me
Can't you understand
Oh my little girl

All I ever wanted
All I ever needed
Is here in my arms
Words are very unnecessary
They can only do harm

Vows are spoken
To be broken
Feelings are intense
Words are trivial
Pleasures remain
So does the pain
Words are meaningless
And forgettable

All I ever wanted
All I ever needed
Is here in my arms
Words are very unnecessary
They can only do harm

Enjoy the silence

Epiphany

Natures Graveyard

Sierra Foothills

Epiphany (feeling) - An epiphany (from the ancient Greek "ἐπιφάνεια", epiphaneia, “manifestation, striking appearance”) is the sudden realization or comprehension of the (larger) essence or meaning of something...   ...for example, Albert Einstein was struck as a young child by being given a compass, and realising that some unseen force in space was making it move.               Wikipedia

As I've written in previous posts, I attended the Society for Photographic Educators conference last year in Oakhurst, California.  My mentor, coach, friend, and former instructor, Beth,  drove me along the the three hour drive home.  We stopped a few times to photograph the beautiful California foothills of the Sierras.

During these stops we would get out and spend some time taking photos of something, each going our own way.   Each stop was a moment to be with the area and find something special to capture.  After a sensed appropriate amount of time, we would return to the car by some artistic homing beacon that told us it was time to move on.

 Sierra Foothills

After the last stop we started to discuss where we wanted our art to go.  I was thinking of the big project I want to start in grad school exploring masculine roles and stereotypes.  A few minutes into the discussion I told her, "When I get some time, I want to do an art project for me.  I want to take a few weeks to photograph the area of Montana where the plains meet the Rocky Mountain front.  That area is very personal to me."

Beth was quiet for a second and then said, "Karl, all your art should be for you."

Most artists will think that is an elementary/cliche bit of artistic wisdom that is pretty obvious, but it was something I had never thought of before and needed to learn.  She gave me a gift of an artistic epiphany.  Thanks Beth.

 Sierra Foothills - Real Colors

The Onanistic Self

Other Thoughts

Photo by SB

First, a poem by Joseph J. Capista

Playboy's Guide to Lingering

We read lingerie as lingering.
An innocent mistake, yes, though
we didn't dally in Patel's humid
newsstand amid hanks of cigared
tobacco and men in coveralls logger-
heading with the Pennsylvania Lotto
to expand our budding tongues
but to confuse the single shelf
of cryptograms and crosswords
with the candied shelves of pornos.
Despite our lousy decoding, we
proved adept disrobers, kid-minds
keen to peel what we'd later call satin
from skin like we peeled bright, waxy
clementines slipped in our stockings,
our reward for a year of skirting Satan.
Nonchalant as bubble gum, we thumbed
them cover to cover, lingered, elbowed
one another while we dittoed each
sweet image deep in memory's folds:
love's coy postures, saddle-stapled.
And that is how we imagined
it would be for us on those winter
afternoons: flimsy resistance, a finger's
steady pressure, the split of soft fruit.
We'd puzzle over language later.
For now, we had more important
things on our hands to misread.

Today, I am going to write about alone time. I mean that type of "alone" time. We all do it. Some of us treat each occurrence as a sensual ceremony. Some treat it with about as much passion as brushing their teeth. Sadly, some feel deep shame about it (side note... they should not feel shame about masturbation, but where they do it and what they are fantasizing about may be another issue).
I can't remember the first time I touched myself in any sensual way. I do remember my first climax from doing it though. I was thirteen and found one of my older brother's Playboys that he didn't take to college. When the climax ended... my life changed. I had never experienced anything so internally powerful, intense, or wonderful. It almost hurt, but I knew I wanted to do it again. There was some deep primal urge to want that. For me, I think that was truly a day I started to become a man and a human.
The physical product of it was a big surprise. In sex education, the teacher had mentioned ejaculate, but just what it contained and that it would happen. In some way, the full mental, soulful, and both body-physical as well as physical relic of the moment made it complete. There is something sensually important about all parts of it, including the cleaning up.

Since that day almost three decades ago, I still desire it. It is the only routine activity in life that I deeply enjoy. Dinner may be a distant second. Sleep is OK when I don't have night terrors. I can't consider intercourse as routine because it depends on participation of another.

For me, the greatest reward is not the end, but the journey. Whether it is fantasy-based, visually inspired, spontaneously enjoyed, shared with another person beside me, or whatever it brings, the build-up is the ultimate pleasure.
Since masturbation is a type of sex, my tastes for it and intercourse are similar. It is all about the journey. I love a long erotic journey as much as I like the quick, intensely passionate sessions.
We all have triggers, stimuli, and needs that make us take this solitary journey. Mine are mostly visual like the things I mentioned in Those Simple Little Things. They include a scent, a memory, a sound, a voice, a setting, or most anything can send me along my way was well. Being a sensual (and/or very horny) guy, it doesn't take much of a trigger. I wonder what are triggers for others.
Some common things that must happen during the session. Even if it is a photo of a stranger that starts the journey, I must have some connection to the person other than that. It could be as simple as a shared glance on the bus, a deep conversation, worked together, ongoing correspondence, and other personal interactions. For this reason, I never had a movie star play a role in the "monent" except one who I met at an event. We shook hands and chatted for fifteen seconds. That was enough.
As mentioned above, alone time does not have to be alone for me. Some of the most intimately deep moments with a person were both of us together doing that. You have to feel very comfortable with the person to share that. I think intercourse is easier and less personal.

Looking for a Lost Photo and Other Bits

Calm and Dark
Photo by SB

A few years ago I saw a photo Ansel Adams took of Edward Weston's wife, Charis, up in the Sierras. I can easily find Weston's photo of her from the same trip, but not Adams'. I've tried every search combination on Google and Bing to no avail.

I think I am going to have to do this the old fashioned way and go to SF MOMA to research it. I hope they have something. I may also call the Ansel Adams gallery to see if they have anything.

At first I was miffed at not finding it. Now it is a fun photo-detective challenge... for a while at least.

Nude in Box
Ruth Bernhard

On other news. I finished my photography class. I feel I did very well. In the last week I may have discovered some deep personal things about my artistic voice. I am still trying to figure all that out and will write about it at some length in the near future. All I can say for now is I love Edward and Brett Weston's and Ruth Bernhard's work, but that is probably not my direction.

Nude, 1920
Edward Weston

I've been reflecting on the 40th anniversary of Neil Armstrong's stroll on the moon. I was a little over four months old and have no recollection of it. In my mind though, it was the greatest thing to happen in 1969.

My first memory of astronauts and the moon was getting a little moon buggy replica in a container of Tang. I played with that little toy forever and vaguely remember my parents telling me the astronauts had driven it on the moon. They even pointed to the moon for emphasis. I don't think I had a clue what they were talking about, but that is my earliest Apollo memory.

Like most kids, I wanted to be an astronaut. My parents said that it was too difficult to get the job and I should make astronomy a hobby and not have my hopes crushed by NASA's fickle choices. They said that about being a musician, artist, photographer, archeologist, paleontologist, fighter pilot and many other now-dead aspirations.... not all of them are dead. Someday I will forgive them for that, but not today.

Nude 175
Brett Weston

Ok, this blog post kind of got heavy at the end. I am always amazed how the rambling ones take unplanned trips to unexpected personal places.

Calm and Bright
Photo by SB

PHOTO NOTE - another from my projected word series. I am playing with exposure on this one. This is not a great photo, but it is fun to play with.

Playing with Candace

Toward the Light - Original
Photo by SB

One of my greatest pleasures is working with an image and experimenting. I love doing this in the darkroom as well as on a computer. Both analog and digital offer me artistic therapy that my soul needs.

In the darkroom I get the deeply sensual experience of touching the papers, dodging and burning areas with my bare hands and seeing the negative image of the model's beauty on my skin as I create unique art with each print. The disappointment or elation of watching the developer bring the image to consciousness as I slowly agitate for the required time. Then watching the print fix and wash under the soft orange light, hoping it looks even better in the real illumination. By doing this I feel one with the model in a much more intimate and artistic way than when I tripped the shutter. At those times I truly understand what Ansel Adams meant when he said.

The negative is comparable to the composer's score and the print to its performance. Each performance differs in subtle ways.

Toward the Light

BW

Photo by SB

Digital image manipulation is a new art that I am learning and loving. I am nowhere near as proficient with it than I am in a dark room. It has no tactile affections like analog printing. The physical involvement is minimal and mouse clicks are not sensual like using a squeegee to gently caress the print dry.

Toward the Light
SAT

Photo by SB

Using a computer though frees the mind to try things I could never do in the darkroom. Do I want to take the blue out of the background, yet accentuate the model's soft pink lips. I can do a million minor adjustments to make the art truly what I envision it to be. Just thinking about that arouses all parts of soul, body and mind. While I miss the sensual tactile experience, the mental growth is just fine.

Toward the Light
Low SAT

Photo by SB

Do you have any preferences between any of these photos? Do they tell you different stories? Isn't Candice truly beautiful? All my models are and I appreciate them dearly.

Toward the Light
Mod SAT

Photo by SB

The Pinnacle

Buzz Aldrin at Work- 40 Years Ago Today
Photo from NASA Archives

On NPR this morning I heard an interview with Buzz Aldrin, the second man to walk on the moon forty years ago today. What an insightful view of humanity. On that day, he was part of a pinnacle moment for human development and evolution. Many ballyhoo the space program as a waist of time, money, and human effort. I don't, but that is not my point today.

For thousands of years, humans continually perfected tools and technologies that led to Aldrin and Neil Armstrong's walk on the moon. The "small step" was a pinnacle moment for human achievement. I am personally proud of that moment because it was not created out of war or conquering a nation. It was exploration.

View of our little marble from the lunar orbiter

One powerful moment Aldrin shared was when he saw earth while standing on the moon. All humanity except Armstrong, Michael Collins in the lunar orbiter, and himself were on that one blue ball. Every person they knew or didn't know could be seen in one single blink. That is a type of solitude and whole world view that would be overwhelmingly beautiful to me and would be a true pinnacle moment in self-actualizing your place in the big picture.

In the interview Aldrin talked about his new book, Magnificent Desolation: The Long Journey Home from the Moon, chronicling the difficulties faced after returning from the moon. He left NASA not long after the lunar mission to return to the Air Force where he found few opportunities. He retired from the USAF and suddenly found himself drifting with out a plan.

As you can imagine, Aldrin's whole military and astronaut career had been very structured with large goals and projects to focus efforts on. Now he was retired and undirected and he developed an addiction to alcohol.

This is the part of the story that really interested me on a personal level. As the interviewer mentioned, Aldrin could not simply go to a career counselor and get help. "Well, the normal career path for people who are the first on the moon is ...' I mean there's no way to complete that sentence. You were in an unusual situation to say the least." This man lived the first-hand history of one of humanity's pinnacle moments. How do you figure out what is your next step (that is one big step).


Aldrin became a project manager and planner for future NASA missions. He is currently working on planning future missions to the moon and Mars. His excitement for these projects are inspirational to me. They inspire me with their lofty goals of exploration, but more importantly they inspire me because I appreciate seeing some one living and doing what is deeply and passionately part of their soul.

Tonight I am going to raise a glass of wine and toast those three men who forty years ago today saw all of humanity in one simple large-scale view and then had to return to it. I don't know if I would have made that trip home.

Quantum of Solace

The Yawn
Photo by SB

I am not commenting about the latest Bond movie which I found very disappointing after the great Casino Royale. I am talking about what that term means. Quantum of solace = a measurement of comfort.

I am a bit worn out and stressed out. I am coming to the end of my photography class with all of the pressures of the final. I am not sure if I will have a job past August. My home life is in a tense state of eggshell, tip-toeing (from both parties) peace.

I want a quantum of solace, a moment of zen, a time of peace. Maybe this weekend I will go to the top of Mt. Diablo (Mount Devil, my favorite local mountain) and leave behind some of my personal diablitos.

Beacon on Mount D.
Photo by SB

Some in my family and circle of friends would say I need to get back to church. I am fortunate to attend (sporadically) a very liberal and open church, but the light from my personal connection to faith is about as bright as a dimmer switch set at it's lowest point before the light is extinguished (ever notice how loud a light hums when it is barely on?). One person asked me if I am having crisis of faith. I would have to feel pretty worked up about something to feel like it is a "crisis." I am not feeling much of anything about it.

I need to recharge the potential energy of my passions. Without that, it is difficult to convert it to kinetic energy and do something. As of this moment, I want to sit back on one of the dunes in the photo below from Death Valley and just watch the rest of the world go by for awhile with out my needing to be part of its movement.

Dunes
Photo by SB

On a side note, I just read an interesting article about a movie called Zabriskie Point that was recently released on DVD. It was released by director Michelangelo Antonioni to much criticism in 1970. It has been put in many "worst movies ever" lists.

Lines
Zabriskie Point - Death Valley Nation Park
Photo by SB

Zabriskie Point is a beautiful overlook in Death Valley National Park. A part of the movie takes place there. There is a sensual sex scene from it. It was very famous and scandalous and took place on the movie's namesakes location. It looks like it would have been fun to film and or act in the scene. Read the Slate article to learn more about it.

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The Sadist and the Masochist

Being Small
Photo by SB

The masochist was begging, "Please, PLEASE, hurt me. Beat me. Hit me. Degrade me. Use me. I need the pain to feel fulfillment! PLEEEASSSE. I only feel pleasure from your hurting me."

The sadist looked smugly and dismissively down on the masochist and simply replied, "No."

I never really understood the mind sets of these two sides of relationships until I heard that joke. I wonder in myself if I desire the pain and the desire to inflict it. Do we all have unconscious or even conscious needs and desires to feel and give pain? Many may feel they don't, but I wonder.

A few years ago I was very mad for months at a person close to me who had hurt me. I kept waiting and waiting for her to mention something about it and I had a response to it that would be devastating. I rehearsed it in my mind and crafted each word with the greatest delicacy and determination so it would not only hurt, but do both blunt and acute damage. One day, almost a year later, she asked why I no longer did a certain thing. At that moment I let go with my stored response. Her reaction was as pained as I had desired. The rush from the moment of it flowed through me filling me with righteous delight in the moment. She cried and went silent. I suddenly felt vindicated, but also an abuser. As time passed that moment, I've felt no pride in what I did. Our relationship was permanently hurt by it.

My family has a deep and dark history of sarcasm, judgment, and belittling. We are the masters of the passive-aggressive insult and attack. Any one statement is not a major issue, but the toll of absorbing (and giving) them is tearing the family apart. Last night I was chatting online with my 18 year old niece who was staying with my parents for a week. She was upset by the vitriolic dislike they have toward each other and the rest of the family. I hope she realizes now how much poison is in the family and finds a way to protect herself from becoming the werewolves we are after suffering the numerous bites of a lifetime.

A Quick Moment of Zen

Here is a beautiful way to spend 59 seconds (click on photo or here). The short video is of an earth rise from a Japanese lunar orbiter. It puts things into perspective for me