Daydreaming

From my first shoot with Erin Wilson, Alameda, CA, 2010. I had sworn off large sunglasses till Erin stuck these on me.

I've been gnawed on by the urge to create things.

Sleep deprived, crashing in Rebecca Lawrence's apartment, Brooklyn, NY, 2011

At its best, modeling can be a very therapeutic form of self-expression--but that self-expression is still rendered through the photographer's interpretation.

Sasha V, who'd tagged along on a shoot with Jason Andrescavage at a ghost town near San Jose, CA, 2010

Oftentimes, it's not even a matter of expression. Sometimes the model is but an instrument. Those are the shoots I feel turn out less well--the model has a rigidity to her poses and a hollowness behind her eyes; you can always tell.

ckudos, after taking a taxi to a beach and some ruins near San Francisco, 2010

Some of my favorite shoots have been shoots with models-turned-photographers--as all the photos in this entry are. They usually don't feel much like shoots, actually. Most of the time I just kind of fart around and they pull their cameras out.

C Nirvana, who fed me wine as we wandered around Brooklyn, 2011

Anyway, the point of this is that I'm starting to bubble over with project ideas of my own. I can't wait until I find a good home base for a while--first and foremost on my list is a video camera. I once thought I was going to study film. As often as I'm afflicted by wanderlust--I do daydream a lot of having a creative space somewhere. When I'm in one place, I dream of the next time I'll be boundless and free--when I'm on the road, I dream of the next time I'll be grounded and setting anchors.

It doesn't need to be much, just my own space. I'll take photos, paint, experiment with wet plate, record videos and songs, brew beer and kombucha and pickle things and have an herb garden and grow mushrooms. Maybe install a pole, and a hammock for aerial yoga and so on. Unicycle around the neighborhood. Sit on the roof [I can't imagine settling somewhere for long that wouldn't have roof access] and write and drink wine when the weather's nice. And I'll have a decadently-stocked bathtub. Build things, take things apart, reintroduce myself to my lost love of engineering and the physical sciences. Read a lot, when the sun's down. Play open mics at local bars where I know everyone. Go on walks at 3:00 am.

Wara, my "twin", during a magical sake-drenched time at Jason Fassnacht's in Sacramento, CA, 2012

The last house I was in was alternately wonderful and terrible, and it was an experience I needed--wholly different. I was living out of a "shabin" [a shed converted into a living space] for most of it, and at one point had nine people and six dogs in the same tiny, dirty, eclectic little house--surfboards along the ceiling, snowboards along the walls, mixed media art everywhere, a table that had been scribbled on with paint pens by passers-by in various altered states of mind, and random "projects" left around by the different tenants. The house was alternately filthy, crammed, and stuffed with shit--and deep-cleaned. Being in that house taught me to be unafraid of mess. That's how it was when I liked it better, anyway--the place became bitterly sterile after a while, hence moving out.

One of many road trip photos by Meghan Claire, somewhere in the Southwest [probably Arizona], 2011

Until recently, I was all set to move into this new house--it was perfect. I really liked the people who lived there, there was a jacuzzi, pet ferrets [I love ferrets, even the pissy way they smell...it's homey sort of smell, not acrid like cat or horse piss], my room was to have a beautiful view onto the endless backyard--a long winding creek and trees and grass. I caught a crayfish out of that creek once and, on a whim, decided to cook and eat it. It was good, but hardly one bite's worth.

But shit happens, doesn't it? No longer going to be living in that house, nor that town. By my own choice, but I don't feel it could be any other way. It makes me pretty sad to think about, but I guess it just means I'll have to find an even better alternative.