I have been thinking about this guy, thinking about a lot of things. I like this portrait of you john. Are you still following this? I took it the night we talked about homosexuality. Look at what we’ve become, adults maybe. I’ve been thinking about people about forming memories and how it is I am supposed to look at my life, assess my life, how memories and distance effect things. We all talk about paths about interests about goals and hopes, loves. Its hard for me to describe that reflexive thought process. Maybe that’s why people place such an emphasis on expression. I hate people who love fine art. I need you someone to know that I like taking pictures because it appeals to my twitches and to the looking I do anyways. it is not because I live with some burning desire to express myself. Not that I expect you to care much(reconcile that public/private debate, shut up, I care is why) I guess this is all redundant because I am attempting to explain myself. What I mean is that I don’t see it that way and I don’t see myself that way. So don’t think that. I read and write with headphones now, it was something I never would do, it concerns me a little. I have been thinking about you too Chris Morrison at the bottom of this post I am going to post a little of your work, I hope you don’t mind, I know you haven’t had internet for awhile, but I have been missing it on site.
I am thinking about structering this work similar to that of an epic. I think that would be what you’d call it. Like Harry Potter and Lord of the Rings, or Narnia. Lots of books, long story, emotions, characters, and plot lines inappropriate for a single text. I will call my epic The Fallows of Kendaia. Epics need titles like that, I assure you. Okay serious now. Kendaia was an Iroquois village in between Seneca and Cayuga lake. Sullivan and his troops charged the town, killing livestock, chopping apple tress, and burning fields in an attempt to disrupt a Native American alliance in 1779. They attacked at night and killed sleeping village people. This area would later become part of Romulus. An excerpt from the diary of Henry McLafferty, Jr. March 19 1856,
“To day has been an out an out cold winter day. The rain storm that commenced yesterday turned to snow at about 10 o’clock A.M and now-(9 o’clock) still continues. Revd. Mr.Jiles the M.E. Clergyman of Ovid called on me this morning and offered while present and after conversation on the subject of religion, a very feeling prayr for all collectively and especially for my Father & Self. I was a good deal effected by his appeal and hope it may be of service in encouraging me to love and serve my God. Yersterday morning a man was found lying dead along the road an in the field side, within 10 or 12 rods of Benjm Warne’s residence which is a little distance south of the Ashery east one mile, of Romulusville. From what facts have been eliceted he has lain there for the past three weeks.”
In 1941 the army displaced 150 farm families with their creation of an 11,000 acre munition storage facility. This ammo mecca was called, The Seneca Army Depot. The facility was constructed in 7 months. In the mid 40’s the site housed 10,000 barrels of enriched uranium from the Manhattan Project. During the 70’s and 80’s more development nuclear weapons were stockpiled in 11 ammunition igloos. My project is centering around this area and I don’t have much to show tonight, these images are flatbed scans of minilab prints. I have been doing a lot of photographing I think it is going well and I am working on the portraits. I haven’t explained this well I’m sorry but I think event hough these pictures tonight are from my first trip, I like them. I will have to show the more serious images from the series next.
this is by Chris Morrison,
The Blind Tiger
March 23rd, 2009, 1:55 a.m.
part I
Carlson stumbled short of breath, out of the building clutching a small child. He set her aside waiting paramedics and took a knee to meet the little girls eyes; staring into the depths of the northern pine forest that existed in the iris of her eye, he was expressionless. Carlson stared and felt nothing, turning quickly, he headed back into the duplex, still burning with the little girls mother still inside on the second floor. Entering, Carlson knew he was going to burn with the house and the little girls mother. When he got to the first staircase, he could no longer hear the desperate pleadings of the mother, he continued up the stairs. The seventh step gave out on him, tearing and trapping his leg. Carlson screamed and fell backward, deepening the gashes in his leg. He lay for a few seconds, blankly staring at the thick blanket of black smoke rippling across the patched ceiling, when it there as a shift and it fell down upon him.
part II
John gave a sweeping eulogy at Carlson’s funeral, commemorating Carlson for his bravery, honor, sense of responsibility &duty, and for being a good husband and father. Throughout the entirety of the wake, John stood to the right of Jennifer, Carlson’s now widow, with a tear swelled up in the corner of his right eye. He gave the same scattered answer to every person passing, how brave, how honest, a beautiful man for such courage, shaking hands firmly and warmly embracing with open arms when applicable. On the car ride home John sat with arms stretched forward, locked on the steering wheel. His wife half turned to the window, staring at more of her own reflection rather than the scenery, mumbled out striking words. John bit his lip and whimpered with tears streaming from his eyes, he stared out the window and continued to drive into the sunrise.
part III
Jennifer sat across her therapist, a glass table separated them, and along it there were different Japanese nick knacks and prints, a poorly kept bonsai tree was set in the center of it and Jennifer had memorized every single detail of it. She had looked down at that table nearly every day for the past two weeks, detesting every aspect of it. The therapist cleared her throat and caught Jennifer’s eyes away from the table; they met with her therapist’s as she continued to speak,
“Jennifer, you can’t continue with this anger. You don’t know what he was thinking when he went back into that building, and honestly I think it’s unjustified for you to say that he was being selfish.”
With this, Jennifer took her hands neatly placed from underneath her legs and placed them under the glass table, which caught the therapist to break away from the staring contest that had developed between them. Jennifer continued to stare straight ahead and flipped the glass table over. The glass splintered and shattered, covering the floor, leaving only the golden spray-painted metal frame of the table on its side. Jennifer stood up brushing the glass off her white dress and calmly walked towards the door, stopping, then continuing out.
