chorus

alone in the crowd © Laura Kicey

Walking home from work, all three blocks of it, for over a week now I notice how by the end of the first block I start to slow, and by the second block my eyelids droop mostly shut and the breathing goes shallow and I am panting by the time I make it to the door. Tonight's power outage may mark the end of the brutal heat wave for a moment or two. Maggs and I sat on the couch in the dark for the best part of an hour, her face buried in my armpit as the storm's winds tossed the trees outside. Its been nearly two weeks since I've been out shooting properly, for myself. The weekend forray playing a role in strangers' marital bliss does not count, even if I think for a moment I can blur the lines a little.

I think my photos are going to see an encore projection this weekend at Skinner's, Girls on Film one year anniversary. Really I should go. Maybe if we can hold onto this pocket of cool air I might consider. Girls on Film reminds me of some of the great and equally odd meetings in this past year. And how in the past few weeks I've been hearing an inordinate amount of voices from the recent and fairly distant past, popping up in all sorts of unexpected places.

Here is my climate-controlled nature tribute to things I've accumulated. I hang on to odd things, this branch being one of them. I have a stack of branches and leaves of interesting shapes and textures living on top of my friedge, a number of which I have incorporated into photos now and again. This one dates back to 1997 and has come this far with me, though it used to have a few more leaves and twigs in its favor. It doesn't have any particular value emotionally... it conjures things that time has detached me from. So this is a portrait of me with a memory. Me almost ten years younger, hair half way down my back, fresh off a plane from England, with a b&w film Pentax in hand. And so many other things that have disappeared completely or become much clearer. For better or worse.


ambush © Laura Kicey