so back to the drawing board…
there will be no more playing inside the scuttle-bug. only on the empty field that is left.
that blasted place, treacherously inviting adventures atop a dark and holey stairwell.
it’s almost as though someone in the city finally had an intelligent idea for progress,
now if only they’d turn it into a garden or something…
Street side cabinets
figure and organism
Back door specials
the darker places
the maze of grottos
of transferable language
i’ve been home for a few days now, and scouring the old computers for something to post. something appropriate has been hard to find. if i didn’t come upon these, i might have resorted to posting embarrassing family photos. luckily i found a few pictures from the raft… 2007, 2008 i’m not sure but that year’s ship was a fine craft. there’s nothing like being woken up before 7am, (assuming you went to sleep) to a maniac tearing up his own front lawn, hot dogs and warm beer served for breakfast. there’s no waiting for nobody when the raft is set to sail. so starts the off-time tribal barrel beats that pound into your skull for hours as we meander down the lazy river. we navigate the rapids, anchor to the covered bridge, scream and yell to all those who have come out to catch a glimpse (of the eye sore that will probably sit in the village for two months before its burnt). the raft everybody… i wonder if she will ever sail again?
the photographic image records a moment of beauty divorced from its behind the scenes significance. Where we were, what we did and why is not always important. the pictures testify to something more ubiquitous, to the fact that such places exist, that in certain urban spaces, nature is still raw, eerie and beautiful.
these starving horses and sheep ran over to us in a flash, which is a funny thing to see really–
all of their mud encrusted dreaded wool bouncing in the sprint. their hoofs making these hollow little thuds on the mossy pasture. there was a few more images, but something happened to the film. story of my life.