Keep At It
Well, I wandered down to the Grand Lake Theater to see Wonderland with Val Kilmer. L.A. noir. Rashomon-like, in that the central event, the murder of four drug addicted low life dealers was told from (one too) many perspectives. Well done, interesting juxtapositions of color and washed out color and black and white, but basically I was not in the mood to watch really ugly people played so well they came across as really ugly people. So I walked out. I'm in a rut. Again, a well done movie, plenty of ugly violence and just the thing to see if you're up for some ugly violent people on a late sunny Sunday afternoon in October, which I was not. So I left.
I did, however, find an interesting book at Walden Pond (Books), Picasso's Weeping Woman - The Life and Art of Dora Maar by Mary Ann Caws, the photographs and Picasso's art truly sucking me in. So I bought it. I hope the writing adds to the visual experience. This and a half hour listening to a jazz group play at my usual cafe before the movie (I should have stayed at the cafe) made this a good way to end my vacation. Sounds overly artsy-fartsy, I know, but it seemed OK, nothing too icky about it.
No great pretensions and I shot some pictures as I was thinking of the images I'd just seen in the book, feeling an urge to order another lens for the F3 so that I could get closer, you understand, to the potential photographs that seemed to crowd in around me. Why did I not do this at the age of sixteen? I did do this at the age of sixteen, why did I not continue? This exploration has been fascinating, as interesting as any of the stuff I hankered after in the San Francisco of my thirties.
Any of you who are, well, if not sixteen, then twenty or thirty or forty or fifty (or sixty) years along, let me mention it's available if you but do it, do it every day. It talks to you after a while and although you may produce nothing of interest to others, well, it will produce things of interest to you and that's more than I, at least, was ever promised. Keep at it. (A little manic here to balance the depressive.)
A note: Ms. Sticky seems to have slipped into silence. Her journal, among others, was what made it an honor (too many years ago now) to be a member of Archipelago. Good luck, young lady, with the new motherhood business. Come back when you're ready.