Day 671

Sunday | December 29th, 2013


I wanted to make up traction for yesterday but then I got sidetracked thinking about things forgotten and was lost in folders I haven’t browsed in nearly ten years. Photography is like that, I think. That’s the whole point of taking pictures, to remember and reflect back on some mood, moment, or memory. The art part of it is just collateral consequence. Most people don’t set out to make the art of photographs anyway, they’re just after some permanence of the mind and reach for a camera like some would reach for a cigarette or cup of coffee or free heroin. I could say that photography is just a reaction to a moment then … but what about the “share” features that are everywhere these days? Photography is more than just a habit, more than just mind-cache, and yet more still than edited events to share with friends and strangers.

Looking back at these photographs of mine, some of them more than 20 years old and all of them shot with a completely different idea of what a “camera” is to me know versus what I intellectualized a “camera” to be in my teens and early twenties. Even the process of photography and what a “real photographer” was as opposed to a “commercial photographer” have both been so grossly inverted in the last quarter of a century that I doubt greatly my fifteen-yearold self would have much respect for the kind of photographer I am today.

I had much less respect for those that hired interns and assistant to man the darkroom and almost none for anyone futzing with a computerized camera. I steadfastly believed that a photographer was someone who took a manual device called a camera and with manual tools captured images which suited and fit into a self-guided philosophy of the universe. And then that photographer went into the darkroom and developed his or her own negatives, from which a contact sheet was made, and finally a swanky print or two. Anything else … it wasn’t photography.

The Daily Bullet

Only a filter would boost the contrast, bleed the blacks, and over-pump the y of the CYAN like this …


Daily Report

I didn’t sleep last night. I struggled to write or create a script that would grab an .mp3 from a folder, open it, insert markers in pre-determined places, split the audio file into eleven segments based on those

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Out beyond the fake lake (Bomun) for Christmas Day lunch at a place called the Healing Kitchen. It’s all farms and hilltops here. And roads to more farms and hilltops. Except for the noise from the cars, I

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The Fourth Wall

I’m here and alive. Ten days behind the reality of my written life, yet here and alive. TOEIC is the predominant motif of life from the end of the semester until … today. This is the end, after

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This Old Hanok

When we had the bathroom done, we wanted to design our own window for the part of the wall which straddles the storage space along the side of the house. This way we could have clean airflow through

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