Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Tuesday, April 30, 2013
Monday, March 25, 2013
Days When I Have Taken A Picture
The day I spent underneath the hummingbird feeders.
The day I forgot to shave my legs.
The day I conquered my fear of heights.
The day I couldn’t ignore it anymore.
The day I felt too much.
The day I began to fade.
The day sun light fell through the window and into a rainbow on the carpet.
The day her face went pale.
The day we found a spider web among the redwoods.
The day I listened to a 27 minute song 16 times.
The day all I ate were pepperoni's.
The day that felt like night.
The day I stared at the cracks in the walls and felt worried for them.
The day the tiles didn’t match up.
The day I walked around searching for bugs.
The day I became friends with the man on the beach with socks and a cane who only fed the birds with less than two legs.
The day I put lemon juice in my hair.
The day I wasn’t sure what happened, but I felt it all the same.
The day we did handstands on top of Mt. Baldy next to a fallen down sign that read “Path to Paradise” with an arrow pointing in the direction we were going.
The day we drove to California.
The day it was so bright, we squinted.
The day he couldn’t quite show his kids what he wanted to, what he lacked in himself.
The day his shoulders and the skin under his eyes sagged just a little bit farther down.
The day her teeth turned red.
The day I spent on the park bench next to the port a potties at the Arts Festival watching all the people until they didn’t look like people anymore.
The day I saw someone touch the sun with her toe.
The day we made s’mores and even melted the chocolate.
The day we found the junkyard full of shrines.
The day we didn’t wear shoes and put flowers in our hair.
The day I stared at a vase full of bubbles for far too long.
The day I looked at the sky through delicately sliced tomatoes and zucchinis, it didn’t feel as weird as it sounds now.
The day I saw a tree made out of antlers.
The day I played cards with four generations at once.
The day I peddled through all four seasons.
The day I stepped on a plastic glove buried in the sand that had 3 fingers down and 1 finger up like it was flipping me off.
The day I tamed the bees.
The day I saw an ant on a flower and felt sorry.
The day my peach looked juicier than it tasted.
The day we had a double chin contest. We consider the results incomplete.
The day I stopped trusting initials carved into trees.
The day I wanted to believe he looked happy.
The day he tried to look happy for me.
The day I played along.
The day we built a 24ft zip-line, turned it into a 24ft rotten tomato slingshot, and called it 24 hours well spent.
The day we handed out missing cat fliers with a picture of a raccoon and felt under appreciated.
The day I thought I took pictures of pretty flowers.
The day I realized they had all been dead flowers.
The day I felt scared for all that I was overlooking.
The day I ordered ginger ale on the plane.
The day it looked like there was a skeleton handprint on her leg.
The day my grandma turned 80, my mom looked 75, I looked 14, and we all felt 18.
The day my grandma turned 80, looked 95, and acted 50.
The day we painted our faces like tigers.
The day the Christmas lights made me realize I always want to live in a room with a window.
The day we put red lipstick on and cooked a 4 course meal.
The day I tried to re-organize their past and realized why my closet looks the way it does.
The day I watched the water dance with the colors.
The day the lady bug clung to the windshield for far more miles than necessary.
The day I ate a whole cucumber.
The day a seagull stole food out of his hand and we all laughed, each one of us for different reasons.
Saturday, March 23, 2013
Senior Project 2013
Sometimes the things we see start to shape us.
And the things we shield our eyes from
tend to do the same.
Meet Autumn.
We share parents — we share a voice — we share a strong love — and this project is about the feelings we shared on those days that changed us.
-Aspen Johnson
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Just a little something for an english assignment...
http://cowbird.com/story/60016/Reversal_In_Time/
There is a jumble of items littering the lining of my travel backpack, things like a toothbrush, my iPod, some money, a paper crane, my retainers, all of this is evidence of a hasty and confused flee, however, I reach in and remove a specific item, a photo. In this photo of me and my papa, age 6 and 38, we are smiling. We are nestled together on a bike, our helmets the only thing in between us, the only source of our distance in our embrace and behind us the Moab dessert fills up the rest of the 4 X 5 frame. The smiles from this photo have since gotten lost. They have been misplaced, forgotten, they are from a different dimension. But never fear, this photo has mending and shrinking powers. It can shrink distances and dissolve barriers, it can travel far. It has endurance. It starts it’s journey by leaving my foster parent’s house. It is passed from hand to hand down a line in time. Leading it straight back to a printer in Kodak. That printer begins to carefully, delicately extract the ink from that page, taking careful note to the color and placement, condensing each drop of ink into a pixel. The paper is left clean and fresh and blank, it’s heavy load removed from it’s surface. The sticky ink has been washed clean and it is left free of the weight of the memory it once held. Those pixels are now each individually implanted into the cleverly receptive piece of delicate film. Film is sometimes misconceived to be two faced and easily impressionable because it believes whatever those pixels tell it but I'm not fooled. Film is a story holder. Each story has it’s own perceptions and sides depending on which way it is viewed but film doesn’t distort anything, the story you tell it is the story it will retell. It is a dependable way to share and in this case it is a loyal friend. The film embraces this gift of information from the pixels and brings it in between its folds and begins to curl, hugging that information deep into itself, spinning it into a bundle to be cared for and stored. It nestles into the bed of a camera and rests. It gets used to it’s new body and waits in the comforting cool, calm, and still darkness, not to be disturbed. The film is wrapped upon itself and in this bundle is left to recognize it’s potential. In each of it’s receptors is going to be a photon. but only when the time is right. But my papa and I don’t have to worry about when that time is. In this case patience isn’t a virtue. Patience is quite unnecessary and has been completely replaced. That film knows when and where. Waiting is no longer waiting because it’s coming, the photo and the information in it’s ink told them. And they never lie. They always speak 1000 words of the truth, no matter what perception.
The sun is rising now, the colors of red and purple and pink burst open and then shrink again in the west of the sky. My popped bike tire is spitting out the thorns of the desert of Moab and of the bruises that are all too hard to avoid in the road of time. My papa’s tires are refilling themselves in tune with mine and a high pitched hissing sound of air flowing in can be heard but is barely detectable over the clanging of my papa’s chains as they realign themselves into an orderly fashion on his bike. This way he will be able to accurately switch gears without glitches. Those glitches have the potential to case a dangerous confusion that could send him over the edge of one of the cliffs of Moab if he doesn’t have them under control, and unfortunately I would probably be pulled over with him. Everywhere the gaps are closing. The distance between two points is not distance anymore but a bond. The light being stored in that camera of the close embrace is bringing my papa and I together like a zipper that is closing two sides of a sweater together. I don’t have to be patient or be worried for the future. I don’t have to go forward alone. The entropy of the preceding in time is now rewound like the film in my camera. The scars that have been recorded in that camera are being sent free into the world, they light up the dark places and are freed from existence. I lift my left foot up and place it behind me, toe to heel as my right foot follows the same pattern, repeat, repeat, until I am being lifted up onto a bike by my papa’s strong and gentle arms, all of the potential for hurt has been erased from them. I sit next to him and we nestle in close. Our helmets the only thing between us. All of the words that have been scattered around the battle ground are getting the lights turned out on them. All of the light is being directed towards this one moment, previously stored in the photograph in the crumpled up back pack in the closet of the guest room in my foster parents house, now that moment is here. The light from the camera shoots out in rays through the lens and illuminates our smiles, making our teeth shine and giving us red eyes for a split second, only detectable in the film thats information has now all been released. The camera’s lens turns left and through the viewfinder my papa and I are left blurry and out of focus, free of scrutiny.
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Friday, December 21, 2012
The Day I..
The Day I Forgot To Shave My Legs
The Day I Spent Underneath The Hummingbird Feeders
The Day I Conquered My Fear Of Heights
The Day I Began To Fade Like The Horizon
The Day I Felt Too Much
The Day I Couldn't Ignore It Anymore
The Day I Saw The World Through My Father's Eyes
The Day After I Understood
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Early Morning Farmers Market Street Photography - there is nothing better
Got to my ACT class an hour early but thankfully i had my camera and there was a farmers market going on right next door. enjoyable way to kill an hour.
pretty much every couple there either had a baby or a dog..so that's what all of my pictures ended up featuring.
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