Posts Tagged ‘self portrait’

Eyes on the Marais

Monday, November 10th, 2014

descollages dans le marais, paris.
november 2014.

rue Verlomme / Tournelles

rue Verlomme / Tournelles

rue de Beauce / Bretagne

rue de Beauce / Bretagne

DesCollages guided tour

Friday, November 7th, 2014

I’m testing out the app Guidigo that lets you make a guided tour of just about anything. I created one to collect my recent street work during Mois de la Photo in Paris (The Month of photography, it happens every 2 years in November).

I’ll be adding stops in the coming days, and perhaps some audio. I had some trouble uploading sound, so decided it was a sign I should stick to writing. Let me know what you think!
The Tour

My accomplice

My accomplice

L’inconscient

Sunday, August 24th, 2014

I am getting much inspiration from Odilon Redon today.

Tout se crée par la soumission docile à la venue de l’inconscient.
Everything is created by quietly submitting to the arrival of the unconscious.
– Odilon Redon, 1898

From Disappearances, in Halsnoy, Norway.

From Disappearances, in Halsnoy, Norway.

Disappearances

DesCollages in Arles

Sunday, July 20th, 2014

I had a great time in Arles this year. Most of us have likely read the reviews by now, and while the “In” festival may have been underwhelming, Arles was, as always, a great place to network and spend time with people I don’t often get to see in person.

And the “off” festival is getting bigger and better every year. This year I decided to continue in Arles, the work I began last October during les Rencontres Photographiques du 10e in Paris.

rue du Grand Couvent

rue du Grand Couvent

So on most nights, after vernissages, dinners, projections, and parties, I took my broom and bucket out and pasted up my street exhibition in the off-off festival. In the process, I met Isabelle Chapuis and Alexis VI, who were pasting up (with admirable precision) their series Blossom (love it) and watched the evolution of Delphine Henry and her group’s series “Parade,” titled after François Hebel’s name for this years festival. I loved the silent collaboration, placing my work among theirs.

rue de la Calade

rue de la Calade

rue Docteur Fanton

rue Docteur Fanton

Close-up on rue Dr Fanton.  I love the wall textures and wrinkles

Close-up on rue Dr Fanton. I love the wall textures and wrinkles

rue des Penitents Bleus

rue des Penitents Bleus

rue des Penitents Bleus, a spot that became more and more full as the week went on

rue des Penitents Bleus, a spot that became more and more full as the week went on

rue Portagnel

rue Portagnel

rue de l'Hotel de Ville

rue de l’Hotel de Ville

rue du Grand Couvent, someone didn't appreciate this one.

rue du Grand Couvent, someone didn’t appreciate this one.

A la santé de ceux qui osent encore…en Arles

Saturday, July 12th, 2014

Last night in Arles.

Cheers to those who still dare

Cheers to those who still dare

The Rencontres festival did not take risks, it largely stuck to the usual suspects,
this is a shout out to the festival-off, and off-off.

Mini cyanotypes

Sunday, July 6th, 2014

It’s the most labor-intensive business card I’ve ever had.
Business cards for Arles this year.

DesCollages, la suite

Monday, November 18th, 2013

The photo festival, Les Rencontres Photographiques du 10e, continues for another couple of weeks in Paris, and I’ve been out again enlarging the circle of my street exhibition.

There is a map here: DesCollages Map
(though it now includes rue Bichat, near metro Jacques Bonsergent, and also farther west to the Passage des Petites Ecuries, great place to go for drinks and dinner btw.)

DesCollages no. 8 rue Bichat

DesCollages no. 8
rue Bichat

DesCollages no. 4, and what we photograph. Passage des Petites Ecuries

DesCollages no. 4,
and what we photograph.
Passage des Petites Ecuries

DesCollages no. 7  rue Bichat

DesCollages no. 7
rue Bichat

DesCollages no. 9   (La Penseuse)   Blvd Magenta

DesCollages no. 9
(La Penseuse)
Blvd Magenta

Doctor, my eyes

Monday, December 3rd, 2012

are slipping through cement,
reflecting the September Moon.

Homesick for the just out of reach

Monday, November 12th, 2012

La nostalgie pour ce qu’il reste toujours hors de la portée

I have just put this short series of photos online,
please check them out –> here.

People keep asking, “Why homesick?” “What do you mean out of reach?” The title is the most apt description of the way I was feeling, and these photos were happening at that same time. They belonged together.

I think it’s about the ache. The desire to create something that speaks honestly of who you are, what your experience of the world feels like. The places you look for nourishment. Looking with such intensity, almost desperate for a sort of x-ray vision, to understand the experience of the sky, the changing light on the sea, the time twisting in the tree.

I’m inside this singular mind, seeing through these two eyes, aching always to see farther, to a place I haven’t been, yet is somehow familiar.

and… I was listening to Bob’s Last Thoughts on Woody Guthrie almost every day.
God bless ’em.

Another restless moon

Saturday, September 29th, 2012

It seems that in every apartment I move into, the full moon shines across my pillow. Tonight I turned out the lights and saw a dagger of bright silver light and it took a moment for me to realize what it was. These nights, with the moon such a presence, are almost always restless.

Bonne nuit.

Full moon, September 2012.

Self-portrait with one of my dearest friends, just because

Wednesday, August 29th, 2012

He’s the kind of friend that brings laughter to the task of moving all your worldly belongings across town. Again, and again, and again.

How many flights of stairs this time?
Only three…

Seb & Dani, at a Charlie Winston concert.

I once dated a man who was like trying to hold water in your hands

Monday, August 6th, 2012

In the end
I was just thirsty

One night in Paris, drifting along the Bassin de la Villette.

Moonlight in a garden of rocks

Thursday, August 2nd, 2012

The other night, I was on the Island of Elba when the moon was almost full. Earlier that day, I told my friends I’ve always wanted a big rock garden to play with, then looked down and saw the gravel garden below us was the perfect blank canvas to give it a try.

Self portrait with rock drawing, in the Ferraris garden

Artificially sweetened

Wednesday, May 30th, 2012

I once bought a dress that made me look like a cupcake.

I remember standing in the tiny shop feeling ridiculous, artificially-sweetened, looking at my friend and the shop-keeper and telling them, “It’s not really my style.” To which I got, “Oh but it looks so good on you! You HAVE to buy it.” Surprised by their enthusiasm for something so fluffy pink, I said, “well, maybe if it were black…”

“It’s a great color, it suits you, you need more variety in your wardrobe.”

Pulling at the sides of the dress, I said “It doesn’t have much of a structure, I look like a potato.”

So why did it go home with me? I suppose it was cheerful enough that I thought it could brighten a grey day. But for two years, it has stayed in the closet, not tempted me once. Maybe I can turn it into a lamp shade.

Pink paisley cupcake dress comes out, but not to stay

La Araña

Tuesday, May 22nd, 2012

Once upon a time, not so long ago, I lived with the artist Monica Millan in Buenos Aires. She is from the subtropical province of Missiones in Argentina and often works with communities in Paraguay. This is why, when I told her about a scary spider I saw in the bathroom one morning, and she asked me how big it was, after showing her with my two fingers making a small circle, she said, “Ah, no es nada!! En Missiones…” then she put her two hands together to make the largest circle she could, to show me the size of beasts they have up there.

Always check under the bed

She reassured me they were harmless and wouldn’t bother me if I didn’t bother them. The usual speech. Then I remembered some strange marks I had found on my arm, in a circular pattern, and I showed them to her. “Ah, si. De una araña…” she said with a shrug of her shoulders. So they do bite! And likely while you’re sleeping!

It was then that I noticed the spider tattoo on the back of Monica’s neck, and also the spider on the tank top she often wore around the house. Living with someone who revered what I feared, I had some work to do.

Some weeks later, when Bergitta moved out (a tango-dancing Swedish painter who had been living there) I changed bedrooms. I moved into the wood-paneled room with a window onto the garden. The one with the orange light, magenta mosquito net and the spider painting hanging on the wall.

On the wall above my bed

One night there was a full moon. I went to sleep with its silver-blue light shining directly on my pillow. Sometime in the middle of the night, straight out of a deep sleep, I abruptly opened my eyes. And I opened them WIDE. What I saw, was a fat-bodied spider dangling right above my face, back-lit by the full moon. I heard my voice whisper, “ooohh…my god,” as I slid horizontally off of the bed, out from under gravity’s pull on that 8-legged body, and switched on the lights. I inspected the hell out of that wood-paneled room and found nothing but my own fear.

My bedroom’s closed shutters, through the grape vines in the garden, where the cat stalks the night and the queen spider watches from the banana tree

Standing in the middle of the room, now having put on my tennis shoes, I asked, what the hell just happened? Was that real? And even now, I’m convinced the sequence of events began with opening my eyes and that it wasn’t a dream. But like a big baby, from then on I slept with the lights on, so that during the night I could wake up and immediately scan the room for anything menacing. Though after that, I didn’t see another spider. The only pests remaining were the mosquitoes.

Full moon night in Barracas, Buenos Aires

Today at Iris

Sunday, April 22nd, 2012

“My reflexion scares me when I see it in the metro window. Some people are staring, some raise their eyebrows when they see my face. My head feels hot then cold. I wonder if my scalp is blushing.”

I wrote this in a notebook I carried with me in Paris, in the weeks after I shaved my head. It’s not an easy city for a woman to be bald. It showed me how conservative Paris is, how much I prefer to be the one looking rather than the thing looked at, and made me start writing with a vengeance from this new perspective.

Today at 2pm I’m giving a talk in Cincinnati, at the Iris BookCafé & Gallery, where I have a show of three series of self portraits, together entitled FEMME. It’s the first time I’m showing my work in my own country.

Installation at Iris BookCafé & Gallery. Cincinnati, Ohio.

One night in the green room

Saturday, October 29th, 2011

“The timeless communicating to the time-bound.”

This photo is part of a series that I’m editing, taken during my residency at the Halsnoy Kloster, and today it makes me think of this sentence above, by Steven Pressfield and inspired by William Blake, in The War of Art.

The Mother Ash

Friday, September 16th, 2011

This tree is 550 years old. She (because I call her the mother tree) was struck by lightening around 1850. She’s protected by Norway and has a plaque nailed to the side of her that faces the Kloster Fjord, but her trunk has grown around it so you can’t see what it says. Her roots are tangled in the stone wall that runs along side of her, and because the lightening ripped her open, she can shelter you from the rain. Her trunk bulbs out in several areas that make very nice places to sit or nap. I visit her daily, and last night decided to light her up while the sky was clear and the moon was bright. For scale, I sat in my usual spot inside her trunk, and lit myself with a flashlight.

Self portrait in the great Halsnøy ash tree

Hommage à Kertesz

Friday, October 29th, 2010

This morning I was up before the sun. It doesn’t happen often.
I work very well long after the sun goes down so I rarely see it rise.

From my kitchen, waiting for the coffee to brew and the bread to toast, I watched the light on these buildings change. I could see the sun, reflected in one small window over there on the other side of the canal. I grabbed a camera and just when I was about to take the photo, André Kertesz came flying by.

He’s been on my mind since seeing the retrospective at Jeu de Paume.
Is it possible to miss someone you have never met?

Sunrise across the canal

Self-portrait with found arm

Monday, March 29th, 2010

…illustrative of how I feel at 4am,
not sleeping and not sleepy . . .

In white, on black

Tuesday, December 22nd, 2009

New explorations with found objects…

Flowered bird cage

Monday, November 9th, 2009

Autoportaits, part deux

Saturday, October 10th, 2009

Every day in Paris you find treasures thrown out on the street.  Yesterday it was windows and doors.

"Light test" with borrowed window.

"Light test" with borrowed window.

Autoportraits at 59

Thursday, October 8th, 2009

It’s now week three of my informal residency at 59 rue de Rivoli, where I’m working on portraits of the approximately 32 artists working in the “aftersquat.”  I’ve photographed 19, 20 including myself, which I do every day.  Originally just to test the light, it’s evolving into something more.

"Light test" with open mouth.

"Light test" with open mouth.

Dani on tower of suitcases, deep inside Musée Igor Balut.

Dani on tower of suitcases, deep inside Musée Igor Balut.