4 posts tagged “photography”

Went downtown to do 20 shots for the final project today. I wanted to go back to Oakland after visiting the first time, but it wasn't as enchanting the second time and there were a lot of people there today. Oakland is a landmark, not just a cemetery, so it made sense that it was pretty full today. I was taking my first few shots, and these people walked past me. I thought it was yet another dog because I heard all of these keychains and I turned to see if it was, in fact, a dog and owner but it was people. One man was all, "She's taking pictures!!" in a gaspshockgasp voice like I was pissing on the graves or something, and another man was like, "Well, they said they can take pictures of the statues blah blah blah," I don't remember the rest because I started re-framing my shot. The Shocked Man was eyeing me for whatever reason, the only reason I could really think is me being a black girl with an afro and this being a group of white people and a certain devisive event happening in two days tearing people apart. He looked as if he'd never seen a Black person before. I was a bit amused, but kinda wary of shooting for the rest of the day if people were going to be that conscious about it. One of the great things about being in a graveyard is silence, yeah?

11/2/2008: Oakland and Centennial OP

I woke up after a long night of talking to myself in my sleep. I don't quite know what causes this, but basically I'll be in a dreaming mode, but my mind's voice or whatever will be running on autopilot. Sometimes its coherent and revealing stuff but I rarely go long in the day remembering what is actually said. Regardless, I woke up pretty much accepting of the fact that pretending I don't ever feel depression or anxiety isn't the life for me. It's been a disaster trying to pretend I don't have these emotions up to this point and I do want to live...so why not try accepting they're there and living with that. Who knows? Maybe accepting it is how I'll learn to cope with them better.

I went up to the school to print the shots I took Tuesday and to work on my Illustrator project for the Design Applications class. I drummed up the best that I could in Illustrator...though I might still glance over it tomorrow to make sure I can't do better. The past few times I've gone to the photo printing room, I struck up tiny conversations with the people inside. I'm use to going in the afternoons on Saturdays, after the DA class and I'll be there by myself...but I do enjoy it when other people are there. I met a middle age woman who's starting the Photographic Imaging program, and we were talking about the classes and our fears...and some students who've been in the program for awhile came in and eventually joined the conversation. I had half my prints done at that point, and they took a look at them...and I was told that what I printed was actually really good. This was genuinely very...confidence boosting, I guess, hearing my stuff is good from students who've been in the program for awhile and would be able, at their stage, to know what's good and what isn't. I don't think they were lying, people don't get away with lying to me...it made me happy.

I'm not exactly shy about the critiques received in class or by the instructor, I don't expect for the instructors to ever be lenient in criticism. I've had experience with photography classes before I came into this program, I know it's rare to have an instructor say anything GOOD about what you do. I don't mind. I came here to learn and to get better, and unlike a lot of things that involve competition I don't mind the extra motivation to always do better and better. I guess because this is something that I really want for myself. I don't worry about the fairness of the critique or the harshness of it...when I want something, I have a way of becoming impervious to those things. But being told that I look good from the eyes of more advanced students is always a nice security check.

I checked out this book basically covering the history of photography from the school's library. I'm really enjoying it so far. I love history, I love reading about it and learning about it. It inspires me more than anything, though I don't show it explicitly. I'm not the type of person that believes in mimicing bygone eras or necessarily bringing it back to the good ol' days...I'm the type of person that likes to see how the present relates to the past, and to take the best of both worlds and live off of them. Reading this book and getting a sense for what early photographers were looking for out of the medium, why it was invented, all the ways it can be used...I don't know, it validates me in a way I can't explain. Inspires me to make the best that I can out of what I'm doing. Made me feel a part of a legacy. Made me appreciate it more. Stuff like that.

I got home and showed the prints to my sister, to my mom when she got home. Me and my mom haven't talked much since the last argument two days ago. And I guess it showed...even in this gesture of peace, she kinda took a cheap shot at my choice of venue, "I would've preferred you hadn't gone to a cemetery, but whatever," but instead of getting offended, I just responded in a burst of genuine excitement, "I love shooting in cemeteries. It's very quiet and peaceful..." and she cut me off. I know that she's looking for a fight or a point to drive her points home, but I'm not the type of person to hold grudges. When I move on, I move on. She picked the little angel on the top of the infant's grave as her favorite and I had a thought afterwards to tell her that it WAS the grave of a child she made her favorite...I guess just noticing the irony in her picking the worst shot out of the set as her favorite because she thought it was cute. I don't know, maybe that inbred resentment I have over her way of sugarcoating over tough things...I know now she isn't completely to blame for this, but her determination to make me a happy child helped make it hard for me to be honest about my emotions and the trauma. She would say and do a lot of nasty things to me as if I were the bane of her existence, and it would make me feel bad that I couldn't give her the happy child that she wanted. I tried and managed to sustain a successful act while my brain degenerated on antipsychotics...but the antipsychotics went way adverse, flashbacks were coming in hard, I started losing my sleep...and I was unwilling to admit that I was feeling unhappy, that I felt stifled...and the next thing everyone knows, I'm swallowing pills and losing my pulse.

It's crucial that I remember I can't blame her for being the way she is, it works for her. I just hope and pray that as the days go by things get a bit easier in the independence search. I'm tentatively trusting the phenomenon around me which...sorta implicates that if I think a need, and it's really a need, then the need somehow shows up. So far it hasn't failed, but faith has always been a dicey issue for me.

Anyway, I'm getting a bit more comfortable with my time management, which is a great accomplishment. It feels relieving to not be worrying about finishing a project -- either for Principles of Photography or for DA -- and I hope it continues to get better as time rolls on. I do need to start thinking and shooting for my final project. A 20 image contact sheet is due on Monday and I don't know what I'm going to do. I don't know if it's the lack of knowledge of what's in Atlanta that's the cause...or that combined with me having to rely on MARTA to get around, and with me not having a lot of money to throw around searching out places. It's a combo of things, I guess. I have 3 more days to think about and do this, and I don't want to waste time but I want to make sure I can do something that's feasible. I'm pretty much done with my homework assignments for this week, so I guess I'll spend the rest of the time trying to find what I'm going to do. I wanted to go back to Oakland and do a further study of cemeteries...but shooting towards the end of the day instead of in the middle of the day. I was even thinking about following a simple theme of "Where is god?" and letting my intuition do the walking.

The panic hit me as I waited for the bus, just pure desperation. "Where will I go?" I had to go back in just to re-collect myself. I told myself that I wouldn't be happy if I didn't go back out, if I avoided shooting today. I don't want to get into old habits. Too much is at stake now. I know the weather can change at any time, and with the amount of time I have left to finish the project I didn't want to take any chances. I honestly didn't feel that I'd be able to move again. I worried that the clouds in the sky would persist when I got downtown. I only had enough fare for one trip downtown. My mother is mad at me -- we had an argument last night, and it was nasty. I hate asking things of her when these happen, and I know there's always a chance she'll feel vindictive and won't give me what I'm asking. I worried about that too, that I'd get downtown and would have to ask her for the fare back and she'd call me on the words I screamed to her last night in anger. I don't like hurting her, but when I get angry I say things and they don't convey what I mean, and she preys on it and I get frustrated and start being more direct with my insults instead of more directly trying to make her understand. I was fully prepared with a backup in case she was feeling vindictive...we were both at fault last night, but I know I kinda deserved any cold shoulder she gives me.

The weight of school started factoring in too, knowing my home situation and my money situation yet being so determined not to mix school and home troubles. I can't quite explain it...but I'll try. I think I know that I want the school I'm at right now and I want the program I'm in right now, and I know how my emotions can stall me and hole me up and mess up my dreams. I'm not trying to blame the emotions, I've accepted by now that I can't help them being there or how strong they are. But I think when I allow them to ruin my life, I allow what he did to me to win. I don't know. But it's stressful, because I'm determined not to let it out what's going on in my home life. I didn't enjoy having counselors in my business in high school, mostly because all these people can do is pity me. They can't make it better. I don't seek pity and I don't want pity. I want someone to understand and just listen to me, yeah, but if it's gonna come with pity I won't take it. I feel that it minimizes everything in a way, it doesn't soothe. And pitying can't make a teacher give me a break on an assignment...and I really wouldn't have it that way anyway. But it can be stressful if I'm in a mood where it feels like the world hates me.

I got overwhelmed with all of this and ran back up to my room. Just cried and cried and cried for about an hour, hunched over on the floor. I was wishing that I'd just died last year, that I hadn't been brought back at all. I think it's because even though I know I'm pursuing something I want to do, I still feel that it's not enough to live for. It's not enough to promise a full life. It doesn't fill the hole. I hate when I get like that, and find it ironic that less stress caused me to snap and overdose. Just wondering a bit darkly what would've happened if I'd had this size stress that night. Probably would've taken a bit more lithium than I did and wouldn't be typing this right now. I don't know. I searched myself to try and find what it is I'm looking for, this place I'm looking to go. It hit me that I'm searching for god. Something higher and strong and stable, something in this world full of lies that is true. I wrote in my photography notebook about how I did manage to find god -- in surviving the suicide attempt, in love, when I give up all control. But I added that I lose it just as easily as I find it, when I try to hold onto it or when I try and force it into existence, force it to prove it's there. I said that I would be perfectly okay with the god I found if I could function with the knowledge. I can't function on my own unless I can translate the god I found into the physical, and it's nearly impossible to do. I came to the conclusion that if I always maintain my honesty, no matter what, that I could come close to doing it. I decided that I'd try it with my photography, take every shot asking myself "Where is god?" Then I looked at my phone's clock and saw that the bus would show up in a few minutes and I got out of the house as fast as I could to get there.

It was a cold day today and I was bundled up. I never invest in anything long-sleeved, so my attempt at layering looks really bad but it works. As I walked to the bus stop, I saw that the clouds I'd been worrying about were clearing. I took it as a good omen and hoped it would last. I got hit on by a guy who's probably my mom's age at the Five Points station, waiting to transfer. Surprisingly, he was the first who didn't look like a broke hobo, he was put together...I hate these types of encounters, mostly because I always resort to thinking that I need to wait for Jarrod in these situations and because I always wonder if I'm wasting my time. I'm not the assault victim who wants nothing to do with sex, that isn't me. Apparently I'm also not the assault victim who'll just jump in with anyone. I feel so perplexed sometimes, because I know I don't hold out on purity reasons, or because I'm ashamed of sex itself. The only reason that I can give is that I want something better than to have my Real first time with someone I'm not even attracted to. There's been guys [or a guy, specifically] at my school who's attracting me. Really intense eyes but I have to laugh when I dig deeper into why I'm attracted to him. He's 6'8" and he rocks sideburns and I don't even think I would've looked at tall guys with sideburns until Jarrod came along. Honestly. I keep asking...the air, I guess, "If Jarrod isn't feasible right now, give me someone who is," and this guy just stood out. But there's never been a guy I'm attracted to who works out. Either we stare at each other hardcore and never approach each other, or I am compelled to make the first move and the guy gets scared and runs off. Only Oscar deviated from that, but I wasn't myself when we tried. I dumped him because I thought some singer was my soul mate and that I had to wait for him. I think it's why I get so scared when I pull back on account of Jarrod...but one thing I can do with him, obviously, is to really consider being with other guys and why is that significant? Just...I think it makes it more real, shows that I'm not working on delusion when I feel for him. I can't really explain.

Anyway, I forgot about the guy who approached me pretty soon after getting to Oakland and in the process of making the exposures. My projects for my class have been less than average, I've been really unhappy with them. A combination of adjusting to BEING in school and of figuring out how to work my camera, since I'm determined to learn it manually...I'm training to be a professional, after all. I decided that for the composition project, I would try and use the skills we were practicing for the first two assignments in this one, to make sure I know what I'm doing. I think it worked. I find my muse in cemeteries. I don't quite know why. I'm never afraid to be there. Hyper aware, in a sense, but not afraid. My father is buried at Oakland, if I'm correct. His grave is still unmarked. I didn't make it to that part of the cemetery, I was too entranced by the older graves. The unfortunate amount of dead children in the cemetery.

As I made my exposures, all the clouds disappeared and if you look at them you probably wouldn't think that just two hours before it was overcast. They came out really good, to the point where I know it's going to be hard to narrow down to just four for printing. I found that I really like shooting and being in cemeteries. I always have, but maybe it's a bit more poignant for me now...having died myself. I kept telling myself to focus on making good compositions, focus on what I was doing right then. Not to focus on my depression, or if I'd have a fight coming home. I think it shows.

I stopped shooting after walking around the cemetery for a bit. My hands were frozen, but I knew I took good shots so I could tolerate it. As I was leaving, there was this couple entering. They saw me, but stopped anyway and had this long kiss right there, in the middle of the cemetery. I had the camera on my neck and I wondered if they'd expected I'd shoot it but I wasn't going to test privacy. The lady looked at me when they finish, I hadn't slowed my walk though I did get a bit quieter with it. I didn't know what to make of it, them deciding to kiss right in front of me, her look...just the thought that I'd love to make out in the middle of a cemetery someday.

I got back to the station and called my mom...we didn't talk long, but she put enough fare on my debit to get me home. I had $3.46 already on there, but I have to save it for my heart bill. I have...an arrangement with them that I can send in as much as I can. I finally talked to all the bill collectors, and when I explained that I don't have a job and have been looking for months...they all of a sudden are really nice people. I kinda wish I'd done it sooner, but I wasn't in a position to give myself a break at the start of the year.  I got to the Chamblee station just as my sister was coming from the high school, which was a nice surprise. We'd never met like that before, so we rode home and she told me about her latest guy [she's on her 3rd potential love interest now] and was just schmoozing about him, abusing her past interests. It was nice not to talk about me, that she didn't bring up the fight last night with mom.

I was in a much better mood coming home than leaving it. I'm proud of what I did today...it's a direct break from habit. When I'm moody, I typically don't move for the rest of the day so going out after all was...and the way it turned out too, it was all incredible. Particularly the surprise in my inbox I got, as I was setting up this account. I was looking for a word to title it with, and went back to my home page [where I keep a word of the day] when I saw his name in my inbox twice and I kinda...I don't know how to describe it, but everytime his name is there or when I see him my mind just empties and I get this elated feeling. It scares me sometimes. I find it strange that when he was making those entries that landed in my inbox, how I found it easy to type a bio, to name my interests. Neither of these things come easy for me, naturally. I kept the poke that he sent. I decided I'll use it when I really need it -- nights like last night where I'm so agitated I'm a viable threat to hurt myself, for example. He's shown that he'll show up if I'm screaming for someone, anyone, in those types of moments.

I'm afraid to let this day end. I always fear this will be the only day that's like this, and that the rest will continue to be depressing and mind-numbing and useless. But one thing that really stuck with me this day, came with the cemetery and the rest I found there. I left really feeling like everything could be alright, that I'd been around people who may have had hectic lives but could rest now. Even people who got to love before they left, since the only thing that keeps me going is the fear I'll die without finding it. "Where is god?"

Here are the best shots out of the day from my visit to Oakland Cemetery this afternoon. Any critique is welcome, since this is for a class assignment [composition] and I need help choosing which shots to print. We have to print four. Any other comments are welcome as well. Click on the link to view all of the photos, and thanks to anyone who responds!

10/28/2008 :: Oakland Cemetery