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Published by ying on May 2nd, 2012 in
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Deep afternoons, lost in woods, we sit on stone ledges, contemplate waterfalls, each other. Cerulean blues, jade greens, soft gradients of grey, loom, sway and arch over us. Dwarfing us, reminding us that we are minute, only for this moment, only for each other.
Peter’s Kill, New Paltz
April, 2012
Published by ying on April 27th, 2012 in
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“Dark of the invisible moon. The nights now only slightly less black. By day the banished sun circles the earth like a grieving mother with a lamp.” ~ Cormac McCarthy
Shadow has always been a place where one’s most obscure fears lurk in wait. We install night lights, lamps, street lights as protective sentinels.
I began to look at the things and places that we find necessary to protect from the night, a time of danger, the black arts, unidentifiable strangers waiting in the dark.
Published by ying on March 31st, 2012 in
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Brandon and I celebrate a mutual birthday week or so in the northern mist of redwoods, California. A cycle of friends, black sand beach, free-pour whiskey, safeway cupcake birthday cakes and Otis Redding songs on the karaoke night line-up, make for a good time.
Some of the best times yet… Happy birthday, BT
xYA
Published by ying on March 4th, 2012 in
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I got tired of effeminate poetry
and subordination
now I am strong and not a bit meek
I roll tobacco as a bearded Turk
with honey, mistletoe and plum brandy
(umorila sam se od zenskaste poezije
i podredivanja
sada sam jaka i nimalo meka
motam duhan kao bradati Turcin
rakijama od meda, imele i sljiva)
~ Irena Delonga
In and around Zagreb, Croatia
February, 2012
Published by ying on February 28th, 2012 in
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Meandering through the night with friends in tow, bottles of wine deep in coat pockets. On the fringes of Le Marais, last nights feasting and hanging off window sills wreathed in curlicues of smoke, photography on the mind and the lips.
Reflexions Masterclass, Paris Edition.
February, 2012
Published by ying on January 6th, 2012 in
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These sublime and magnificent scenes afforded me the greatest consolation that I was capable of receiving. They elevated me from all littleness of feeling; and although they did not remove my grief, they subdued and tranquilized it. In some degree, also, they diverted my mind from the thoughts over which it had brooded for the last month. I retired to rest at night; my slumbers, as it were, waited on and ministered to by the assemblance of grand shapes which I had contemplated during the day. They congregated around me; the unstained snowy mountain top, the glittering pinnacle, the pine woods, and ragged bare ravine, the eagle, soaring amidst the clouds – they all gathered around me and bade me be at peace.
~ “Frankenstein” by Mary Shelley
Published by ying on November 28th, 2011 in
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We cruise along in the wet heat, doubled over in laughter. No traffic lights, the vehicles govern themselves and we make do. From slideshows to gallery openings to peer reviews to spicy bowls of noodle soup, to long nights of pool and beer, we weave through the dusty streets, navigating potholes and trying not to marvel too much at the scenes floating by and causing an accident. I bring Miss Adrienne Grunwald with me and she falls in love and tries to come up with ways to stay.
I see and hold my far-flung friends and we share stories. The weird, sad, freaky, side-splittingly hilarious, private ones. Not the ones in pictures. This is so precious to me. My favourite time of the year.
Published by ying on September 28th, 2011 in
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The flight from neighbourhood demons. I wrap myself in the cloak of anonymity and strike out into unfamiliar terrain, mountains of obscurity and nameless faces in a similar migration to my own.
I’ve been running for a long time… How about you? Veiled, probing questions over cheap cups of coffee. Sun-blasted truckstops in the middle of the Mojave punctuate the streaming barren landscape. I drive from the desert to the sea, across alpine ridges, high sierra lakes, passing all manner of lost souls along the way. Disappearing souls who don’t want to be found… Where being found denotes a return to a place they never wanted to be in the first place. Instead, the mask of the wandering stranger, observing from afar the things that make the lives of others: Salvation, intimacy, fear, doubt.
If you’re reading this, I’m still on the run.
Published by brandon on August 11th, 2011 in
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