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?
"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.
I initially uploaded each of the five photos I took in this moment, thinking I would share with you a bit of my visual process, how I delved (in a matter of seconds) into the extension of the frame, decided what could be left out or what had to be put back in place, why one shape or depth or stretch of the foot attracts me right now more than the other.
But slowly I removed one image, then I removed others, until, finally, I was left with this last photograph.
I am still in New York, though I am leaving too soon. Today I developed one roll of film that wasn't from my first day and a half here. I love every centimeter of each negative. However, if any of them are good or not (by my standards, at least), remains to be known. Ask me next year.
I am getting on a plane soon.
I am terrible with good-bye letters, so I always promise to return instead.
To me, what I can say and what I cannot is the totality of my world.