Das Ding

Here are the things. There are a couple more, which were to small to be shot with the D-Lux. I shot these on friday and later that day, I read http://blog.sonicsites.de quote of the day and thought it appropriate to my wandering: "The object turns into art by the possibility of its interpretation. Does it not allow or need interpretation, it can not be the subject of art" Arthur C. Danto 

I'm better after

As I was laying on the sofa, listening to FourTet and eating m&m's, I had a bright spark and remember I had put on a shelf a whole lot of things that I wanted to do bigger things with; because I was so high on all the E numbers in the m&m's sugar coating, my mind could not focus on anything more than taking a few snapshots of my findings, of which here is the first one. The rest to follow soon.

Packaging

                         

It's raining. I still can't walk very much. I stare at people in the bus and on the street and I feel frustrated that I will never take their picture. The green packaging will never mind that I stare, that I take for ever to get the right exposure and adjust the white balance. The green packaging has nothing to hide. It has nothing to say but: I am. It does not question my intentions. I like that. I wonder if one becomes a photographer because ones intentions are questionable. Is it a mean to signal: ask me a question? Johnny Thunder of New York Dolls fame sang: "Ask me no question and I tell you no lies." It's springtime.

blush

der blau Reiter

                                                                     Der blau Reiter

The reflection of one of my blue crutch on the kitchen door. I have been on one leg for 2 weeks now, unable to go for photographic walk or seeing exhibitions. For once, I have felt no guilt spending hours looking at photographs on the ever amazing vintage photo works website http://www.vintageworks.net/.

I read Patti Smith Just Kids in 3 days and was captivated by her unpretentious account of her becoming one of the most inspiring women of the last 50 years. http://www.pattismith.net.

The only thing that's keeping me from tears is Jason Evans with his daily nice and the memory of Chris Ofili "Iscariot blues" seen at Tate Britain a few weeks ago.

                                                                     Before the fall

International Women's Day

My best friend's mother past away last week. My mother has asked me for a new post to reflect on while she is coping with another snow fall. My neighbour (the one who feed my cat while I'm away spraining my knee on ski slopes) and I had coffee this morning and once again lamented on the sacrifice we feel we are making for our husbands. Fatima, a single mother whose daughter also attend Le Lycee is doing the bus journey to school with Rita and assure me: "we help each other out". The sunday papers are resurrecting feminism, after announcing a sharp rise in child's poverty ( bad lazy ignorant feeble selfish mother!).

Three weeks ago, I watched for the third times Pedro Almodovar Volver and strongly felt it was one of the best film ever made. This picture of 3 little wonky, man made, tables embellished by flower plastic table cloth is my allegory of 100 years of feminism. You can make what you want of the squashed chewing-gum on the floor.