“The most terrifying fact about the universe is not that it is hostile but that it is indifferent; but if we can come to terms with this indifference and accept the challenges of life within the boundaries of death — however mutable man may be able to make them — our existence as a species can have genuine meaning and fulfillment. However vast the darkness, we must supply our own light.”

—Stanley Kubrick

There are the memories of making of a photograph, and then there is everything that comes after. All of those times you turned to it for whatever it originally meant. Each time it transforms under your gaze, it becomes what you need it to be (or the last thing you need it to be, depending). Every viewing adds another layer of obstruction, building and changing and shifting its meaning. Sometimes that all gets peeled away and you are left with that original feeling, but more often than not you are left with a response caked in meaning with no quick and easy way back. You could start sanding it down and remove the strata—but everyone hates sanding.

I am in the record making business. I move forward and leave a trail of documents that are some bizarre yet hopefully thoughtful representation of who and what I was, for that moment. It can seem so romantic, but in moments when I am in the worst mood, it just seems like a huge pile of colorful receipts.

There is what we remember and there is everything else. A photograph is, often, a representation of a decision we make to remember. There is a photograph of the train on Coney Island that I may or may not have stolen from someone else—I will admit there was at the very least 2 ways to both experience and remember it. The difference between seeing it first and being ready first. The difference between seeing it as an overlap in aesthetic attraction and seeing it as someone being a thieving jerk. This shit is all the same, it is all the same mush of thought and intention—but are you trying to pick up that mush with a spoon or a fork?

As we all try to decide what to remember, all I can think is I never meant to steal anything, anything at all.

I am working on the 14th floor of a building in downtown Denver. It is all beige and cream and brown—I am, from what I can tell, the only person still on the floor at 4:30 p.m. on a Monday. I am listening to alt/post/nueveo/whatever the fuck country music as loudly as I can hoping to attract some sort of attention. I am supposed to be working towards a deadline. From the windows I can see the last few buildings that make up the last bit of the east side of downtown. Then the sprawl of all of the neighborhoods that keep going east. All I can think of is the moment I took this blurry photo from the 32nd floor of an apartment building in Hell’s Kitchen. I thought of this photograph before I thought to take another one from here. I thought of the friends I had to make to make this photograph. People I didn’t know before, and haven’t talked to since. I realized that that is so much of what life is, before I even thought to take a photograph out of the window of the 14th floor. It is just the view I always have, whenever I happen to make it into this office. It was not preceded by a strange friendship made on the floor of a trade show. The view I have now is the view that has been available to me for just about three years. It was waiting for me for over a year when I lived somewhere completely different. It was waiting for me when I was 3 miles away working from a couch. It is waiting for me now, while I think of a photograph from New York City instead.

Snark vindication!

I have to admit that I really like the new building, although I am disappointed that an architecture-pleb like me called this one while sitting at a kiddie table drawing smiley faces. I feel that fashion aside, a buildings first priority should be to keep the elements out, and in the name of A-R-T especially.

Regret: Not having photos of the completely shut down main staircase in the Daniel Libeskind designed Denver Art Funnel (which I don’t have to admit that I like, as opposed to the AGO).

(re-posted from my old blog, originally posted 01-12-2009)

That doesn’t stop relevent information coming to me on a regular basis, or worthwhile connections popping up, reminding me that I am just not in a position to move forward right now.

It is—as always—clouding my ability to see the projects that are right in front of me, that I would have been working on had I not started to wrap my brain around something just slightly out of reach.

I always say that there is really no good reason not to make work, no matter what the obstacle is—whether it is time, money, etc.—you can always find a way around it, find another topic, another angle, another medium. Every limitation is just another parameter to be considered, not something that can destroy an idea.

And the cliché of the backburner exists for a reason—sometimes things just need to sit and wait a little while for an influx of cash while you are busy doing other things. Notebooks can fill up and phone calls can be made and permission can be requested/denied/granted before the money is there, before the time is there.

With that in mind I am going to redevelop my productive rut, and enjoy it. I am going to persue the little/big/long/boring/interesting/brief/collaborative projects that are 100% available to me, and maintain a long-distance relationship with the ones that aren’t.