New WIP....remember the change?

I've been thinking about public intimacy lately, and where we have interpersonal connections without meaning to (or we'd rather not). The one place we're forced to share our intimate details out of necessity? The laundromat.  

Saturday

Joe put together a life drawing class for the MFA today, and it was a nice way to force me to start drawing again. It's been too long and I'm a bit rusty, but it's never too late to start again, right?

Where am I again?

I've been living in southeast London for almost two months now. 

London has a unique atmosphere about it, an international utopia, which I don't think is visible to the casual tourist experience.  There is an overwhelming amount of art, incredibly talented and thought-provoking people, among those being a very niche group of contemporary artists. I'm trying to figure out where I belong in that community, while also enjoying my fair share of tea, almond croissants, and cider (don't worry). 

It feels daunting and overwhelming most days, but exhilarating. In the words of my former professor and dear friend Andy,  "if you don't know what to do, do whatever you want." 

I'll leave you with a snapshot of this (amazing) book on Sophie Calle I received from my flatmate for my birthday. These words are always a nice reminder. Take care of yourself.

   Sophie Calle: And So Forth

 Sophie Calle: And So Forth

Cheers, 

Sam

One of those nights of self-discovery.

"The fields the color of love and Southern mysteries- I stuck my head out the window and took deep breaths of fragrant air. It was the most beautiful of all moments. The West of my youth met the East of my future.

It was the one distinct time in my life when I didn't know who I was and I wasn't scared. All I had to do was lean back and roll on; to follow one great red line across America. Into the fine night, a warm night, a moony night, a wine-drinking night. A night to hug your man and talk and laugh and be heaven-going with all that flat stuff way out to the setting sun." 

- Jack Kerouac  

I normally have a hard time relating to words by self-proclaimed "wanderers", especially those that tend to have a sexual bias in their writing, *ahem* Kerouac. But tonight, over a $10 bottle of wine, stacks of photographs and prints, and the kind of people we should never take for granted, it fit. I think sometimes when we least expect it and most need it, we hear what we need to. Tonight was that time for me. 

  Homage to Kerouac  by Christine Baczek

Homage to Kerouac by Christine Baczek

Farm to Table Texture

I went to the local farmer's market last weekend and as always, fresh, beautiful food inspires me to set up a makeshift studio in my kitchen. I can't pass up that texture and natural light. 

Foodie in the Making...Maybe?

I'm not a cook by any means, and have a VERY long road ahead of me if I want to catch up to my mom and grandma (who are both fabulous cooks). I figured the first step could be photographing food in it's raw form. Can you believe this came from the Earth? 

Boy oh boy, I love natural light. 

 

tomatoes

Seat 23A

I just flew to Dallas from SLC to visit my family. My seat was 19B, as I chose an hour before the flight. I sat down and a man came up to me and asked to switch seats with him so he wouldn't be split up from his traveling partner. That led me to sit in 23A, next to a friendly older woman. We talk about our destinations and reasons for flying (the typical what do you do/where are you going chat) and she tells me she's flying home to New York from the Sundance Film Festival. After finding out she's a documentary filmmaker and works for a nonprofit for women in film and television, she coaches me on finding my path to get where I want to be as a media artist, and to never stop practicing, even if it means going against what you should be doing, or money you could be making. It's powerful female artists like her that make me never want to stop doing what I'm doing. Here's to life's random paths to seat 23A and amazing conversation.