Monthly Archives: July 2015

Things He Said

There once was a girl, who once loved a man.

She gave and she gave, with very little given back.

She saw through glasses made of roses,

while washing the world with good intentions.

One winter evening at a party with friends,

her world fell apart with the things that he said.

“I tell you I love you, but I don’t love you,”

He said.

She sat staring

Her eyes glazed

Her face contorted

In confusion

“I think you’re stupid; I think you’re the devil,”

He said.

She staggered to her feet

Failures complete

Her body felt heavy

Her head was dizzy

“There is nothing for you here, girl.”

He said.

“Just big dark love, girl.”

She felt lost and alone,

with nothing to do but run.

There is hope for the flowers,

in this great big world.

There is lots more living to do,

for this caterpillar girl.

She built her cocoon and is ready for change.

It’s only a matter of time

Til she emerges as a butterfly.

Things He Said

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She Waits

Imagine living in a box,

wanting to so desperately to break free.

Imagine waiting so patiently,

for something founded on fantasy.

If only she could destroy reality,

by washing her hands clean.

“Remember to breathe,” she said,

“when you break all the locks.

Pry open the source of this madness.

The bathroom mirror does not lie.

Find solace in this sadness,

allow yourself to be free.”

She said

She Waits

 

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Completely Me

I recently went to my very first burn. LOF 2015. It was such a transformative experience, that I decided to stop shaving my armpits and stop wearing deodorant. Something shifted within and I embraced my true self. Animal instincts, flaws, awesomeness and everything else that makes me, me.

I began contemplating the concept of gender. The more I tried to decipher the difference between men and women (for mere observational reasons) the more the differences seemed to disappear. Simply, we are all human, both animalistic and intelligent beings alike. We have hair in “unwanted” places and repress some of our most basic instincts to keep up appearances with society. Where is the freedom in that? Nina Simone recently taught me that, “to be truly free is to live without fear.” It doesn’t seem to get more real than that. It also takes guts, to push the boundaries of what society says is acceptable and unacceptable.

Furthermore, gender roles are learned behavior, we are taught what “being a lady” is supposed to look like, what “being a man” means. I’m here to tell you, its all bullshit. All babies begin as female, for lack of a better term, men have nipples because they develop faster in the womb than the rest of our sexual organs.

So this begs the question, what really separates us, if anything at all?

Completely Me

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Loving Cup

After staying up all night, the evening of July 4th, in the early morning hours I took this image. It was slightly accidental, yet it was the best photo I took the whole trip. It is excessively feminine, as it reminds me of female genitalia… Does it not? The color red just adds a fiery intensity that works exceptionally well, in my opinion. Very Georgia O’Keeffe, which I’m ecstatic about, as she is one of my many heroes. I respect all women quite a bit, however, there are a few select women in history, that have a very special place in my heart. Georgia O’Keeffe is one of them. I used to be in a somewhat “teacher/pupil” ¬†intimate relationship with one of my old friends and mentor a few years ago. The intimacy ended up ruining the friendship in the end, and during that time I struggled with losing both my mentor and my friend; while also preparing for a show in New York. It was an odd polarization to be experiencing. At a bar one night, a friend of mine reminded me, “You outgrew your mentor. Even Georgia O’Keeffe outgrew her mentor.” As a photographer, I was and am aware of the love affair and mentorship that happened between Georgia O’Keeffe and Alfred Stieglitz. Alfred was a photographer, he photographed Georgia often. But, eventually she did outgrow him, and went on to make some of her best work, on her own. I respect her fiercely for this very reason. Whenever I struggle with letting go, I think about her. ¬†

Loving Cup

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