Hot Summer

From a hot summer's day of packing and relaxing.

This weekend was fucking cosmic shaking magical. I would like to thank Mitchel, Claire, Laura, and the Universe. I shot some things of sorts. Should have them processed shortly. Also discovered some film in a Holga of which I am not sure of the origins. We'll see soon. This one is still from that batch from the past year.

Moo

C owing Down on Liberty.

How Little John Got His Groove Back.

6 hours in the darkroom today. More where this came from.
Please come again!

Mystical

Community, Non-Community, Fags, Friends, Ex-Friends, Ex-Boyfriends, Art Thesis, Art Work, Psyche, Personal, Self:

I love when things start coming together. When you have to sit down on the ground or you might pass out or shit your pants.

Participation mystique. A term derived from anthropology and the study of primitive psychology, denoting a mystical connection, or identity, between subject and object. (See also archaic, identification and projection.)

[Participation mystique] consists in the fact that the subject cannot clearly distinguish himself from the object but is bound to it by a direct relationship which amounts to partial identity. . . . Among civilized peoples it usually occurs between persons, seldom between a person and a thing. In the first case it is a transference relationship . . . . In the second case there is a similar influence on the part of the thing, or else an identification with a thing or the idea of a thing.[Definitions," CW 6, par. 781.]

[Identity] is a characteristic of the primitive mentality and the real foundation of participation mystique, which is nothing but a relic of the original non-differentiation of subject and object, and hence of the primordial unconscious state. It is also a characteristic of the mental state of early infancy, and, finally, of the unconscious of the civilized adult.[Ibid., par. 741.]

Haus

There was almost a fight at Gay Frat Haus a few nights ago.

But luckily, sharing was encouraged.

This past year.....

My friend Kelly took this digital photograph of me recently.
I don't think I have ever seen a shot by another person, in which I've felt like I can see myself.
Call me narcissistic, or call me someone who works pretty heavily in the mode of self portraiture, but I am in this photo.
I can read the past year or so, so precisely, so clearly. It's eerie to me, but incredible to see.
I also think the person in this picture is someone who is getting farther and farther away. And, I like that.

This is what the past year has looked like.....for my liver.

Moving On.

I have a feeling there will be lots more posts coming in the near future. I am sitting in my attic/studio with only a tank top on. It's not the warmest up here. I've been jumping around in various states of undress in front of the camera. I am thinking of starting a flckereilnswcw thing. I am going to buy some matte white paint. I am going to figure out how to bleed the radiators. I am going to take my camera back and might even print today. I'm moving very forward and after this weekend, and this moment right now, I'm moving very on.

Fuck. I'll never have a space like this n SF.
Fuck.

Dad Votes

I sent all of my family the same text message inquiring as to their voting status. My father responded via this hasty, typo'd, kind of awesome e-mail (and suffice it to say, when he says dope smoking, it's a term of endearment, wink wink) :



Go 'head Dad, go 'head.

I'm back.

Back from my whirlwind trip to my new home. Can't wait till I go and don't have to come back.
It's snowing, and thirty-six degrees out. I took very few photo's with the digital. Mostly 120 color. Also spent all my money. However, when I get paid I am sending those out. Then I'll get on scanning the negatifs for your general consumption.

My roommate John and I just spent about 5 minutes bitching about the axis of the Earth and the plague that is winter that it enacts on the northern hemisphere.

Here are some things that have made me happy lately, aside from my trip.


Coffee treats with my name in them.

Chloe visiting, and scooting (even if it's not in SF).
Max, my new boyfriend from San Francisco.
Cool pictures I've taken of projection equipment.

al - co - hol;_____

I'm always drunk in San Francisco;__
I always stay out of my mind.
But if you've been to San Francisco,
they say that things like this go on all the time.___

It never happens nowhere else,__
maybe it's the air;
Can't really seem to help myself;__
And, what's more, I  don't   care.

I'm always drunk in San Francisco;__
I'm never feeling any pain.
But tell me, why does San Francisco,
just like a lover's kiss, go straight to my brain?

I guess it's just the mood I'm in___
that acts like al - co - hol;___
Because I'm drunk in San Francisco,
and I don't drink at all.___________

[Repeat]

A Cautionary...

I was shopping at the party store...

....and saw this:

Melissa Joan Hart

One:

"Maybe I am just sub-conciously destroyed by pop culture."

While talking to my friend Bryan yesterday about voting and changes of address etc....We were discussing me not changing my registered address until after the election for a deep seated (by loads of political documentaries, thanks Filmmakers) that I will wind up in one of those hassles of "Oh, we don't have you listed here," or "You've never voted here before? Oh, you have to go here instead.." Bryan still votes where his parents live, out in bumble fuck. But not for any reasons like mine. He wants specifically to vote against Melissa Hart (former member of the House, PA District 4, running again this year after defeat last, and also royal conservative bitch). Good Reason. But Bryan kept calling her Melissa Joan Hart (Clarissa Explains It All, Sabrina the Teenage Witch). Surely these were not one in the same. We figured it out, and Bryan said one of the best things I have ever heard anyone ever say (above). On Point Bryan, On Point.

Two:
I am fucking exceptionally fascinated lately by peoples snapshot necessity. I've been asked multiple times in the past few days at work, about the photography policies of the museum. Policies aside, I have just had it on my brain. It's all people consuming. Not all, but some of it. It's people needing to validate, show, capture, and hold. I want to go back over some of my lecture shit about the snapshot and read read read and write write write. I think I am gestating right now. Gestation, cleaning my "studio space"...well, that's mostly relying on Marcus..., and writing. I made some official friends number getting etc. last night. I'm talking with Edgar about doing something. I'm going to be doing some travelling. I have 800 idea's. Something is going to get blown up soon. Positively.

Three:
Purses, What The Fuck, "Types," Cock Abstraction, PissFountain, PissChandelier, 35 Gay Men, Mural Length Foamcore, J.Fox's dog shit, White Tent Marimba/ist

Four:
I can't stop staring at the dude sitting outside ith the muscles and very well trimmed/grown beard.

Nipple to the Bottle.

Bear with it through the last paragraph, then let's discuss:

Alright. First of all. I wish that I got paid to publish online "Articles" that essentially amounted to what my notebook writings and ramblings look like at times. Writing critique aside...

Secondly. That last paragraph is pretty, sort of, apt. It's a nice little bit of an affirmation to read this outside of the group of people who "Get It" that I surround myself with. Lately, I have been settling some unsettling personal things and my mind has instantly (it's kind of incredible how quickly) gone back to occupying itself (note: Not me occupying myself...my brain just does this. It's where it goes, automatically) with this sort of queer fuckery. Music is something that I had never even considered. Really? I missed that. I guess my musical tastes are pretty rounded. I often bond with people over music, so most of my friends have similar broad ranging musical tastes. While I say broad, I do recognize my lean towards 80's, Synths, New Wave, Wacky, Tacky, and Danceable. But even within that, I feel I've got a pretty wide idea of what constitutes or is contained within all of those.

I do take a little bit of issue with the writers use of "The Gays" as an all-encompassing statement for us all. Especially when part of the point they are trying to make is that "The Gays" are often in fact not such a broad grouping, and that "The Gays" are actually as divided a group as any other social "type". They may actually be white middle class mainstream gays, or poor white blue collar gays, or even as the article tip-toes, "Urban" gays. Urban? In an article entitled "Why do gays hate Black music?," I find it incredible that the writer then can not say a a blatant "Mainstream white gay culture is kind of afraid of black culture, gay or in general." Is that not the underlying idea? Hey! Maybe some of "the gays" are like some of the everyone else, racism and all...

Of course this is not the case for (I would hope) most of, since we are grouping, "us." And, while I am sure most of these mainstream white gay's would not consider themselves racists (or classists, or agists, or sexists....) there is definitely this type of sentiment prevalent in the homo-normative (5!) gay bars/hangouts/social scenarios I've encountered. It's a similar happening at Kelly's Bar, in East Liberty (a largely poor black neighborhood in Pittsburgh that was a victim of what I would describe as racist urban planning in the 60's, which is now being gentrified by the neighboring affluent white Shadyside faster than you can eat an all natural locally grown organic fair trade gourmet cupcake). Having a jukebox loaded with discs of great old soul, jazz singers, and funk along with punk and rock standards is great when it's because you are into playing that music. However, not allowing rap/top 40 on their jukebox soley to keep the "Wrong Crowd" out is just the same old song. (even if in my opinion it's just fine without the top 40) It's the "We're not racist, we have lots of soul and funk on the Jukebox!" "We're not racist, we have Janet Jackson and Beyonce remixes on the video lounge screens" kind of mentality. Not racist, in a wizard hat wearing way, but racist nonetheless. It is a pinch of classism, a dab of racism, a smackering of elitism. Is there a word I am missing out on here that covers this all? No? Well I think we've hit it pretty close then. It's all of the above stewed together for stinking dose of disdain and social exclusivity.

Oh, as an aside, don't worry. You don't have to be black, or hispanic, or even the result of a horrible disfiguring/crippling accident to be disreguarded, feared, or simply given bitchy looks. You can even be white and non-conformist to common gay societal "norms" presented to you via hetero societal norm bearing mass media. This article basically comes down to a familiar conclusion. A good portion of "The Gays" are just like a good portion of everyone else. A good portion transparent, a good portion pretty shitty.

Alright. Time to figure out how this one is going to look on silver gelatin?

Piss Fan Pissfan

The work I did for the Still Image/Moving Picture Show, is now online. Click the smaller image to see the work and minute explanation.

2585

Bell and Howell 2585 16mm projector

Due an incredible stroke of dumb luck, and an incredible love of that fabulous man Edgar Um Bucholtz, I may (or may not, but most likely may) soon be the owner of my very own 16mm projector. We also may have some assorted videos and films on proper attire for bank tellers as well as proper conduct for them in the workplace. Sometimes life is sweet.

Sick.

I got a new seat cover, and finally got a rear rack for Animal. Animal has got a big shiny rack.
Also. There are dead autumn-y leaves outside the door to the Museum. Summer is leaving me.
I think I'm going to vomit.

Matchwood Preview

Check out this little audio interview with a few artists including myself who are showing at "The Still Image/Moving Pictures Festival" this Saturday.

http://matchwood.org/matchwoodlive/?p=38

Trip to Bumble.

This weekend I took some time off from the boxes. I went to my parents house. They live in Jersey Shore, PA. Weird name, weirder place. I partially wanted to just get out of the city, and into the country for a little while. I also partly wanted to avoid the guilt that would follow my grandfathers death if I had not visited, opting to drink heavily with friends on my time off. It's Sunday evening, I'm leaving sometime tomorrow, I have a doctors appt. at 5pm, but here is what has happened thus far:
-Photographed at two locations I have wanted to shoot 12o color at for ages. I think I got it.
-Saw a horse and buggy
-Saw my grandfather, and very coincidentally my aunt and two cousins, who I never see. Wonderful.
-Went to the Woolrich company store, where despite having the BEST flannels/flannel patterns ever, they do not believe in the size "Small". I bought a hat, a wool blanket, and an extremely cheap Nalgene bottle. My father bought me a (Medium) camoflaged print button up I plan on taking in. DEER camo print. In Fucking Credible.
-I frolicked in a field.
-Got a knife set for our kitchen, as well as a knife my grandfather was given by a family he stayed with when stationed in the phillipines. Reportedly made of downed Japanese aircraft metal and some sort of horn.
-Stole cast iron skillets from my parents.


We are cooking some cook-aht stuff tonight. Then I plan on going to find some trees or a field to sit in and relish. I think I might have to do this a few more times this summer. It's very relaxing and fits in with the whole cleansing thing that seems to be going on in my life right now. P.S. These images are all from photoboth. purely illustration.

Moving

I have to start moving tomorrow. I am not happy about it. I am not done packing. I've got to say this was the best place by far I have ever lived. The location was so key, the house was nice and reasonable. And everyone is disbanding in many more than one way. I just really, really, really hate moving. The actual physical process. The emotional process. I moved two apartments last summer, between mine and the incapacitated ex. I was really hoping I wouldn't have to do it again until I left Pittsburgh.Nonetheless, I am looking forward to the new homosexual bachelor pad (..ok, Marcus is married) that is about to happen. Should be good times with good people all around.

Screens

I've been looking through things. Through. Threw. Thrue. True. False. Fictchin.
Blazing Fictchin.
I t ' s the littlest things really.

Stuff white people like.

I can't decide if this is as tongue in cheek as I deeply hope it is. Nevertheless, and despite; Not funky white indie chicks trying to be funky, no makeup, bad art makeup circa ..never, no wiping off grease, headbands, scene-y apartment dance party, step dancing. I really like it. Especially and mostly the punchy chorus.

The Rubies - I Feel Electric (youtube)

Edgar will be playing this soon for me.

My Dad Told Me.

My dad told me a few years ago that if I asked him to marry me (and someone else, duh), he would. This was an unprovoked statement. As you can imagine, I certainly wasn't like "Dad...when I fall in love with the perfect guy...I wish you could marry us!" He was just letting me know. Letting me know that even though it would probably cost him his job, it was something he believed he should be able to do as an ordained minister, even if it wouldn't be legally binding.

I told him that if I did that, and he lost his job, who was going to pay for my drinking and photo supplies. He agreed. Thus far we haven't run into the issue.

Nonetheless, I just sent him this link, I think he'll enjoy it:

http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-methodist17-2008jul17,0,484099.story?track=rss

Of the times.

Things have been alright.
Work has been absolutely crazy lately. There is a Curators Conference happening, which of course means that EVERYTHING is breaking. There is right now, at 10:45 am, a problem with EVERY projector we have. One was supposed to be back to us yesterday, but it isn't and the replacement/temporary projector's bulb is dead now, too. There's been lots of running around, and furious e-mail sending. Last night I got home at 6:30 and napped until nine. Jeff came over, and eventually Laura (who is in the V picture). We got crunk, and listened to records. I am amassing quite a nice record collection and I feel very happy about it. Also at work, one of the security guards ( who is extremely handsome) reveled to me that he went to my high school and graduated a year after me. Pity.

V-Neck, V-Shape, V-Gina

Edgar and little John after lil John discovering roommates having sex in kichen.

The rule was: do not break into/go up the water tower.

The other rule was, no confetti permitted in the buildings.

Boats. Creeping.

Yesterday was the fourth, if you didn't know. Went kayaking, drunkenly, etc. On the Allegheny. Cooked meat, ate it. With Claire and that whole lot. Greg and Randy were in town. Afterwards I rode to the Brillo, where a giant gay dance party was happening where everyone was gay and dancing. Ok. Not really. Butt alot of good homo's were there. Today is strange. I've got this stuff sitting in the back of my mind I have been trying to keep back there. But the longer I try, the harder it gets. I think it's creeping out today. I am going to have to occupy myself heavily.

I have to: Mail mom's and chloe's mix cds. Go to the hardware store (!!!) Re-plant my tomato in a bigger pot, and thusly move the basil to the old tomato pot. Perhaps that means planting something else in the old basil pot? Listening to musack all the while. I think Jeff is hanging out to. He's downstairs with Jesse. I am exceptionally gassy today. No pictures today, sorry.

Eat Your Sharon Lockhart Out. (Today at Work I)

The other day at work I:

New Work.

Hey. There is new work posted on my actual website, in the portfolio section.
It's kind of full frontal, but in good taste I assure you.
Check it out, let me know what you think.

jfcphoto.net

Rye Whiskey, Rye Whiskey

Yesterday I took some time with Mr. Jazzy Boots Jeffikins Davis. He is moving soonish depending on when he can get a gig or work in NYC or touring. Shouldn't be hard, he's good. He needed headshots so we went out in between the rain showers and got some pretty nice shots. We got the "super saturated so my skin looks smooth and young" New York headshot, which is the au courant, apparently.

Anyway, I'm not posting any of those. These are some that I liked, that were obviously for me.
yes, that rules.

Despite, or in it.

Although this is supposed to be my photo blog, I am going to start writing on it more. I have tons of photo's I could put up, but never do. I think sometimes I have more than 1000 words to say. So an image simply will not do.

Despite being ditched, and booed at last night. Despite being generally round about depressed lately (methinks with all this rain, my depression light may need to make a summer emergence). Despite not really wanting to drink. I wound up at Take a Break with Edgrr and Marcus Kim. We wallowed in the incredibly unfortunate jukebox choices and drank accordingly. I once again woke around 6 this morning and wasn't to able to get back to full sleep. The lucid dreams I've been having are really wild. I've never had them before. Anyway. Despite even that, I am having a pretty relatively alright day at work. I just was apologized to for the "Boo"ing, and it's a fucking beautiful day. I hope I can keep this cheery demeanor through 5 o'clock.we'll see.

I'm in Love.

Generally My Urban Aesthetic. I have been exploring this alot lately. Martha and the Muffins understand completely.

Is The Right Time.

For blurred portraits



for shirts off beer drinking

for posing


for moustaches



for bikes

I've been working alot lately.

I worked something like 60 hours this past week for the Carnegie International. It has been exciting, interesting, fun, tiring, informative, frightening, enlightening, challenging, fast paced, slow paced, hyper-speed, but I would say above all fun. I think the show is going over really well with most people I have spoken with.
On my end it seems to be going pretty well. It seems getting everything turned on is going to take longer than expected, but should be easier on week days when the offices are open. The 16mm film loopers have been for the most part not to much trouble, although one of them is currently sitting with it's film out because it wound itself to tightly and the film started jumping frame last night about 15 minutes before the members gala was over. It was one of those things you know is coming, but you really can't do anything until it happens.
I've gotten to meet some of the artists who were in town this weekend/past week and been able to work with a few of them, drink with them, dance...etc. It's been fun. No Wolfgang though, pitty. We could have been lovely dancing partners. Now I have to be off to Home Depot to buy some "dry" lubricant and some other supplies for these projectors. I'll take a receipt please.

Black, White, and Gay......

"Robert Mapplethorpe knew something. He is my dead person I want to have a coversation with. I don't think he would tell me this "thing" he knew. He would just listen to me, to decide if I knew anything about "it". Whether I did or did not, he wouldn't tell me that either." -excerpt from my photo journal, October 16, 2006.

These images were done as part of a short course dealing with socially taboo images, focusing on Robert Mapplethorpe and Joel Peter Witkin. It certainly is interesting throwing yourself, literally, into something like that. We all draw on our influences, but I have never so directly tried to mimic one before. Very fun.

...lately.

Lately life has been much:
Drinking, complaining/stressing about jobs, dancing, aching, coffee, bike rides, scooter dreams.
I have decided:
Vodka is not for me, this city is a real downer, my feelings first.
Here are a few snapshots of it all:
I have been shooting lots of film lately, but not processing it. So when that happens, better images.
lj.

Lookin' like a slob.

So I am having a show tonight. If you can make it, come. I figured it wouldn't hurt to post this lil' blogger blog about it. Who knows. I've already sent out so many invites. I hope it goes well. I made some really yummmmm hummus and some really cool "Cut Out" work.
Check it out.
Oh yeah, it starts at 7. Goes till ten, don't give the guy at the door any money.

My New Headshot.

I didn't take this. Obviously.