Monthly Archives: February 2007

san diego

the train to san diego scrapes the edge of the sea… i press my nose to the window to watch the waves lapping underneath…

muffled engine and rail sounds now and late afternoon sun flickering through newly budding trees…

addicted to travel, to the way that everything i need for survival is either brought with me, found at my destination, or unneccessary. most times all i need are packets of emergenc-e, my camera and luna bars… i can survive on very little… the desert has taught me as much… and i’m reminded of it this week as brady and i each take turns moving in our belongings when the other happens to not be home.

boxes and boxes, mostly from my past…. photos, videos, letters and journals…. more boxes of memory than dishes and cutlery… i carry around a snail shell house of moments so that i have something to entertain me when i am old and forgetful… i make aisles of boxes like a labyrinth in the living room. brady lines his things against walls.

we are stressed with much going on with work and travel… but the excitment is brewing… we plan a picnic on top of the nearest mountain and will finally open that sacred bottle of wine that we bought in mexico last year. we talk of a housewarming party, of buying furniture, of selling things we don’t need… all things nesting… it’s an exciting and an intense time…

san francisco

a weekend in san francisco… burning man headquarters flew me up to shoot their regional summit. from plane, to train, to bus, straight to bmhq where my forehead collided swiftly with raspa’s belly. a red & black name tag was attached to my boob ‘official documentarian’ it said and then i was set free to capture the historic shennanigans. larry harvey in soft light with a microphone, david best going over a binder of various projects. danger ranger kissed my hand. bex put an 8-pack of redbull in a secret place in the fridge. ‘it was in your ryder, ya?’ wink, and caffeination and all the things of kamikaze shooting did occur. friday afternoon and people with name tags from japan, england and all over began arriving… nuts and apples, biodegradable forks, coffee and introductions… paul jorgensen showing up was a great surprise. he got a head butt to the gut as well.

after the reception, jimmy and i had australian wine at the victorian mansion. he made me tofu yummies and cause for me to deflect mutaytor questions. i slept in the chinese themed room, woke early, sat in the park watching suspicious chirping creatures, checked email and had breakfast people-watching at herbivore. jimmy left for work at the head shop and i stepped into his clawfoot tub for a claustrophobic shower before heading back to bmhq. i’ve been meeting such interesting characters on public transport lately. in nyc i was so desensitized to people but in california people spark me more. on the bart i met a 50 year old woman who thanks it’s too late to live her dream life. she just stated it as fact, which i thought rediculous. “envision a full day where you do only the things that you want to do.” i told her. “my kids are grown. nothing’s really stopping me,” she said. i guess people get accustomed to giving up on wishes until reminded. waiting for the bus i met a guy who lives for coachella and helped me find my way. once on the bus, i met an old man who used to be a photographer. he kept telling me he’s old. i kept asking him why he doesn’t keep shooting?

what does age have to do with the deadening of passion? i should hope that wisdom would strengthen it, not cause the spirit to lie down on, or in spite of, it.

so i arrived early to a day of breakout groups and amazing conversation. at one point while all 50 regional reps from all over the world were sitting together, i scanned thier faces, lingering on a few and realized that i was in a room with everyone responsible for the biggest inspiration of my life. these people, their motivation, their ideas have a direct influence on my art, on my life and waves of gratitude came then… my camera and i sat silent, listening…

after hours of redbull and shooting, of climbing steep ladders to the roof for a session, of stepping around art and sculptures in the warehouse, of skulking around a tight room where larry was having a meeting, after all that, we boarded a safari bus to berkeley for a party at michael christensen’s place. the safari driver made us sing ‘ah mee mo weh, ah mee mo weh’ and when asked how he’s doing, would answer ‘safari, so good.’ a quick stop at a shipyard where burning man art is made and then onto the party.

michael christensen’s place left me speechless. mesmerizing fire art sculpture with intermittant green, yellow and blue flames, intricate steel lace patterns on ceilings from parts of art lit famously. my camera celebrated it in the form of long exposures. i met many people who said heart things about my work and made me feel understood. i came away from the weekend thinking of how unique a situation i am in. i’ve been taking photos of people and events my entire life, since i was a little girl awake at night, making backgrounds out of bedsheets tacked to my wall with pushpins, stealing film from my father and shooting ketchup on oranges. i’ve always been doing this, my entire life, yet it took one event, one group of people to unlock it in a way that it becomes a force, a need… not just a desire… but this all encompassing reason. there is support and encouragement. there is opportunity and genuine networking… there is a sense that if i have chocolate someone out there must have peanut butter… that people recognize this in each other, that want to share it, create a lifestyle from it, is a blessed thing. also a blessed thing, that the very people responsible for my awakening are now flying me up and putting redbull in secret stashes for me.

at the party, a girl stared at my hands and in sharpie on my knuckles wrote ‘LIVE’ on one hand and ‘LIFE’ on the other. throughout the night i would thrust them out at people watching smiles emerge. at 10pm i took my knuckles to the next party. burning man was done with me and bohemian carnival was in full force. it was like home. i felt at first rushed and tired, then i felt safe and inspired all over again. sexy girls in clown noses and wigs on trapeze, my amazing Men of Goofer took to the stage and my head and arms became pendulums. vegas sang my song. janine kissed me. shredder hooped above me. roo squeaked with me. whitney hugged me. dave’s new puppet scared me.

at 3am i shared a cab with the london bm rep. he has a blue mohawk… he also has a helmet with a bigger white mohawk. i climbed creeky dark steps at jimmy’s and fell into a deep sleep. morning brought me to bodhi’s warehouse in oakland to shoot architectural images for him. we sat on his floor and played with his sweet dog… he took a necklace off and put it on me… it’s something i will always treasure, a reminder of this amazing weekend…

my plane has just landed… the sun has just set… i am exhausted… and happy…

little pink houses

for months we follow the construction of this house on a lot around the corner. we call it ‘our house’ and pretend that it’s almost time to move into it. a dilapidated shack torn down and replaced with a solid and vast structure of wood, glass and brick. ‘oh look! our chimney!’ ‘oh they put windows in our house today!’ we say as he drives the five familiar miles between his house and mine and we drive past it on the way to dinnner or a party. the house is almost complete and with it, comes our nesting phase…

brady and i don’t rush into things… we were friends for months before our first kiss, waited some time to become lovers. we get to know each other in phases exactly as we are and not how we wish the other to be, as had been the scope of many lovers before. we make it safe to do and feel and be exactly how we are, ‘the best part of ourselves’ is our mantra and we are open to each other to bring it out of us. he is the most considerate man i have ever met, the most self-aware, kind, respectful, trustworthy, thoughtful, sexy, intelligent, caring, funny, talented man i have ever met. we are brilliant friends to each other without overlapping.

a year of courtship and two dark months of self-awareness brought us to the abundant place of love… that expressive water slide of future-bound romance. it’s been a solid year of this pure happiness and so we’ve decided to it’s time to live together, to wake up every morning together, to learn more about each other…

and so we drive the faery car up and over hills in search of our nest, arms up like roller coasters down the steepest ones singing john cougar mellancamp ‘little pink houses’. from los feliz to silverlake to echo park to noho, we follow a list of vacancies and fine tune our desires… our search has begun and we are very excited…

my eyes go liquid

like some twisted movie, shocking things emerge.
all the effort, all the work, all the building up wanes sharply,
we are tainted now by the psychosis of the one that held the torch,
instincts reared up months ago,
i felt something festering,
something aweful,
i silently retreated,
but i am not safe from the bruising…
all the things said in the wake of the broadcast,
make my hands shake and my eyes go liquid…