I'm Traci Lynn Matlock.
I live and work in Houston, Texas.

Mostly, I shoot old-fashioned film.

I share more: here

And I always like email:
turningthequickcartwheel at gmail

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Stand here, at the insistence of fantasies.


Collaborative self-portrait from the first time I met Ash LaRose:

I have been lucky enough to know a handful of people for what feels like a long time,
even when it has not been long,
even when it has not been long enough,
and hopefully, when it truly has been an exceedingly long time.

Ah, Bashfulleigh. 
To knowing and learning and making with you
for many more ridiculous, discerning years.

And to maybe wanting to share them all, in our hidden and exhibitionist ways.

Monday, July 28, 2014

Halfway through my last journal I wrote this, in unlabled undocumented quotes,

The landscape is a testimony,
a metaphorical visualization of non-linearity & interconnectedness.


Reading it then, reading it now, my right hand (im)pulses to create.
Underneath that entry, without quotes and with the same pen, I wrote: 

spatial & narrative confusion
optical illusion collapses spatial categories


I apologize to whomever and whatever work I documented without a source;
I owe you double for putting my unsayables into speech.

When someone teaches me how to approach something,
I should remember the spring and not just the flowing forth.

I am learning many things half a journal too late.

Wednesday, July 23, 2014

Asked & Answered


So you have a sense of what you want the visitor to go away with?

William Kentridge

No, that I never have. That I absolutely don't have.

It's an invitation to to the visitor to see if there are points of connection, points of overlap between
their memory, their experiences, their desires & what they see on the screen and what they hear.

But it's not as if: Chapter 1) FEAR, Chapter 2) DELIGHT.

It's not an emotional journey plotted for an audience.
That requires cynicism, I think, and thinking on behalf of other people.

* * *

I don't often wonder what you think when you visit me here,
but that doesn't mean I don't find it valuable.

I find it difficult to understand the translation, think it can best be guessed when face-to-face,
the assymetry of sitting across from you (over coffee or coffee table) the only way to recognize symmetry of conversation.

So if I'm lucky, I forget it matters that you come here and see things and make false and accurate assumptions.
I forget that returning matters. Mine and yours.

At least occasionally.

How you have been affected by my accusers, I cannot tell;

but I know that they almost made me forget who I was,
so persuasively did they speak.

Plato, The Apology


(And the accusers are rarely exterior.)

Tuesday, July 22, 2014

"Whatever gives you pleasure gives you power,"

said 'Anna Span' paraphrasing Jaques Lacan.


ecstasy + 3 people in the couple's theater + pink fishnet porn + the hand of the June birthday girl :

I did not take this photo, though I heart heart heart it. 2014

Sunday, July 20, 2014

"If they appear to be casual, they were meant to."

I had a serious camera malfunction the last time I was in NYC, so most of my film is vastly over or underexposed.

Looking through the film for the first time was humbling.
To say the least.
I cannot, literally cannot, say the most.

These photographs are now remnants,
left behind images that provoke an imaginative memory,

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Today's secret

is that I've been thinking about the concept of posting over the content of posting, wondering if,
as Kenneth Goldsmith said in a lecture at the CAMH last weekend, that self-expression would happen no matter.

No matter content, specifically.

So I'm at work right now. Broke out my laptop to make a small post here since I've been wanting to for a few days.
Decided to share the first photograph I spotted when I opened my finder, and here it is:

Is Kenny right? Am I self-expressing as I press Publish?
And, if so, do you know what it is?

Friday, July 11, 2014

Said Lillian Hellman,

"It’s a sad day when you find out that it’s not accident or time or fortune,
but just yourself that kept things from you."


I realize it's inevitable, eventually recognizing yourself as the enactor of your own regret.
Ridiculous and naive to imagine vanquishing it.

Instead, I act against the impulse toward self-culpability by attempting more than makes my body comfortable,
engaging in more than makes my partners comfortable and sharing more than makes my audience comfortable.

Not to say I don't believe in boundaries. I just believe in ethical realization of what's beyond the given ones.

For instance:

Though these were all taken at my whim and with my camera, they are not all self-portraits.
I consider them a collaborative effort, which is really my preferred way to make things and/or get into trouble.