howcouldiknow

The camera that I used to take these photographs was stolen last week.  It’s replaceable but sentimental.  it’s ok, but I’m still pissed.

These are from this summer while I was in Columbus, Ohio.  (Don’t ask why I shot black and white.  It wasn’t intentional.)  These are markers of such an emotionally intense time that I really have no distance from them, but then I guess that means I also don’t care.   They make me feel violent.

I spent the evening scanning again, I can’t seem to get the dust under control, so once I get around to doing real edits of these files I am sure it will involve hours of dust removal. I have been really pleased with the overall image quality with my Epson flatbed.

I guess this roll counts as a sort of lost and found set, though I still plan on incorporating them into a new body of work despite their official date of creation.  These images span my winter break of TWO years ago during which I spent time in Albuquerque, NM; Columbus,OH; and Chicago,IL.  I am trying to play with sequencing as I scan each little batch of images and post my favorites.  I am less pleased with this sequence but I am a little stuck, though I do really enjoy some of these images individually.  Any thoughts?

I have found a lab in Chicago and had a load of 35 waiting around get processed.  Fired up my scanner and after a few bumps I have everything up and running.  I missed using my little white gloves and dust blower.  it does make me miss chain smoking like I did on breaks from scanning in Rochester.  Some of these are more current than others, they are all rough scans.  Much more to come, I only got one roll done today.  Soon I will coordinate a selection from this summer with my family in Columbus, Ohio and add them to my main website.

I have been trying to rework my approach to my creativity and art making.  Trying to step away from all the analyzing, expectations and negativity that I throw at myself.  I have been picking random avenues for my creativity that are not the camera and these feel much more free.  Anything else I do is not “serious” and is not intended to astound anyone who may be looking.  Sort of like thinking about creativity as a hobby, doing things for me and relieving the pressure.

These are some recent results of sitting down at my desk and doing whatever I feel like.

Currently reading: The Ghost Writer by Philip Roth

Currently listening: Minisink Hotel by She Keeps Bees

It has been almost 2 months since I returned to Chicago.  I haven’t been back to Columbus even one time yet.  Every day I feel guilty about this but if nothing else I have the substantial excuse that I am currently working two jobs.  Since September I have gotten a second job bar-tending at the Chicago Symphony Orchestra and become close to full time at my cafe.  It’s not what I would call living the dream, but I am keeping my head above water, keeping it busy and making enough money that I am not currently worrying about money (which is a relief).  I have gotten my first root canal this month, which was nothing compared to the three fillings I had the week later that have caused me more pain and trouble than any other dental procedure in my life.  I have started listening to Miles Davis, buying records and have finally gotten together the money to purchase my Epson Perfection v750 PRO scanner.  I am not traditionally a tech nerd photographer type but finally having the ability to scan my film from home at a decent level of quality is drool-worthy.  Our room mate has moved out so now I am living with Ian in the same apartment, 3 bedrooms, which means he has a studio/music room and I have a studio/guest room (complete with lumpy queen sized bed!) of my own.  It’s only been a couple weeks and a lot of effort/$$ to try and make this place work but  finally have my own work space.  This I can already tell is so significant.  I have room to have all my things out, to look at my cameras, sit down at my desk and feel productive, organized, even in control.

I have even been photographing again though I have nothing to prove this to you.  I have been writing a little and drawing a (very) little and reading a lot.  I read on the train and on the bus.  I love public transit, even when it smells like piss and is filled with idiots on their iphones playing that game where you try to throw a piece of paper in a trash can.  It always seems so very private, this solitary time reserved for me to be calmly chauffeured to my destination while I pass through 15 odd pages of my current novel.

Dropping film off for processing this week.  Fire up the scanner and then new images in no time.  I swear.

Back in Chicago.  Settling into my apartment.  Missing my sister already.  Washed all my clothes and bought 90 dollars worth of groceries.  I go back to work tomorrow.  Tomorrow.  And I am really anxious.  Hell if I know why.  It’s not a new job, it’s the same people and the same place and the same activities.  But maybe it’s because I’m not the same.

I feel different after my brother attempting suicide.  (I feel like use the masculine to address the past actions of my brother and using the feminine to address current and future actions.  This is confusing to everyone, including to me.  But I don’t feel like my sister attempted suicide, my sister is the person that has arisen out of the chaos created by my brother.  Or am I segregating them too much, trying to create two distinct identities to assign behaviors to.)

I guess I am just a little shaken still, a little in shock and still waiting.  Expecting something else.  Hell, I have flown six times back and forth between Chicago and Columbus since July 19th and every time I imagine my plane going down.  What it would feel like as it plummets, how I would behave.  Who’s lap would I unconsciously climb into in order to sob and panic?  Who on this plane is going to flip their shit completely?  Will the engine fall off?  That wing is wobbling a lot, maybe it will just start shredding into bits of shrapnel.  Is it the pilots first day?  I mean some day has to be their first day. I feel pressure, because I have become an important force in my family, my plane can’t crash.  It’s just not allowed.  So then I start imagining the random terrible possibilities in my path, and remind myself that there is no one limiting how much awful shit hits at once.

So I am trying to start over.  Or return.  I feel a shadow following me, it’s irrational and paranoid and scared.  And maybe its not a shadow but the personification of pain, of grief and I don’t believe its going to let go so easily.  And maybe I am afraid of work and feel awkward in social situations because I think you can see it.  Or see my scars.  Or maybe I wish you could so I would make more sense to you.  Maybe it’s time for my first tattoo.  That’s pretty silly.

My brother has recently decided to transition to living full time as a woman.  Until a month ago I have never known that my brother was experiencing gender dysphoria.  He has dealt his whole life with an irreconcilable physical sex and subconscious understanding of his gender.  Previous to this I have believed in being an open-minded individual regarding sexuality and gender roles but I would say also very uneducated.  I have never had a transsexual friend or family member; or read/seen any legitimate accounts, memoirs, experiences etc.  My dear friend Melissa (who wrote a post about this book also) loaned me Whipping Girl: A Transsexual Woman on Sexism and the Scapegoating of Femininity which she had read for a gender studies class and I have been fascinated with it from the start.  I enjoy academic reading as well as personal perspectives so this work by Julia Serano has been enthralling.  She is a transsexual woman writing about not only her experiences as a man, as a woman, and specifically as a transsexual woman; but also critically analyzes our cultures depictions, inspection, and judgment of transgender individuals and all those who transgress gender norms while rallying for acceptance of gender and sexuality as a broad spectrum rather than a set of finite categories.  I am not even finished reading and so it is sinful for me to even discuss yet but reading it has been such a significant aspect of my recovery and growth that I feel entitled.  It is helping me to understand my brothers past, present, and future experience while also engaging me to think critically about gender and culture from an academic perspective that keeps my brain working hard.

NB:  From this point on I intend to refer to my brother as my sister and use the gender appropriate pronouns she/her.

The exciting news is that I have gotten away for the weekend.  I flew into Chicago this morning and am getting on a Megabus to Minneapolis tomorrow at 6 AM.  This is no impulsive get away, it is a trip to the Minneapolis Indie Expo that has been on the calendar for months.  So I have stepped away from Columbus for a few days and I have faith all will go well without me.  Though I do miss my brother already.  (We have spent 24/7 together for a couple week, I’m getting kind of used to it.)  Met my landlord and set up the lease to stay in the apartment Ian and I are currently in but sans third roommate.  Begin love nest construction…AKA ONE DAY I MIGHT UNPACK ALL MY BOXES.  Wish me luck and a sane bus driver.