Notte Sento. I Feel the Night. A short film made with 4500+ still photographs. Shot with a Canon EOS 30D camera and funded by the Seagate Creative Fund. This makes me want to make beautiful things.
Browsing category blogging
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
You may have heard of a place in London called Seven Dials, a well-known junction near Covent Garden where seven streets converge. At the centre of the roughly-circular space is a pillar bearing six (yes, six) sundials. By the eighteenth century Seven Dials had become one of the most notorious slums in London and when
There’s really no way to take a photo with Flynn and not look like a squat little frog with Hitler-Hair (I’m not doing it on purpose, I swear.) So here’s the thing: When feeling frog-like I’ve found it best to channel the Monty Python troupe and just act FaR TOo SilLY. With that in mind,
Twice or thrice had I lov’d thee, Before I knew thy face or name; So in a voice, so in a shapeless flame Angels affect us oft, and worshipp’d be; Still when, to where thou wert, I came, Some lovely glorious nothing I did see. But since my soul, whose child love is, Takes limbs
I cried over beautiful things knowing no beautiful thing lasts. The field of cornflower yellow is a scarf at the neck of the copper sunburned woman, the mother of the year, the taker of seeds. The northwest wind comes and the yellow is torn full of holes, new beautiful things come in the first spit
Listening to The Temper Trap. Sweet Disposition. Beautiful. Apropos to nothing, I love that my sister loves Tolstoy. That we can talk about things that get lost in translation. And that we don’t have to explain why we are the way we are. Because we know. Even when we don’t. And I love her too.
I keep thinking about something Ezra Pound said. He was talking about his time in Paris and the ‘new art’. About Picasso and the ice-block quality. About planes and patterns and vortexes. And about how some people ridicule what they don’t understand because they don’t know what thought is like. They’re only familiar with argument
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
And on a lighter note… They already know how to read. So I taught them how to make faces at their teachers instead. School starts on Thursday. Also, my head is huge.
I’m going on a date with dumplin today. Her parents let me borrow her every now and again. Last week we went shopping for sombreros and came home with “The Complete Essays of Mark Twain” and a stuffed Poo Bear. So, yeah. That’s my Friday night. I’m spending the rest of the weekend writing. And
Florence & the Machine – Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up). Makes me want to dance in a very Alice down the looking glass sort of way. And that’s not bad.
