Fest Feast

The first weekend of June is one of my favorite personal holidays, perhaps my favorite.

Not just because there's a giant music festival with a few fantastic performances/performers.

Not just because thousands of people get together to share sweat and the green grass and high energy.

I love the first few days of June for much more personal reasons.

That I, of course, am being too coquettish to mention here.

During the performance that I most wanted to see at the festival, a kid (half my age and luckily probably half my weight too) was vaulted into my head. I have a pretty descriptive memory of what happened in about three seconds, at least aesthetically. What happened on a viscerally physical level, however, has only been told to me in stories. I passed out -- twice -- and after hitting the ground was (thank you, still and again!) carried out of the tent and into the air.

Since I only received a minor concussion and was laughing about it less than an hour later, I must admit that it was pretty intense -- in a good way. I don't want to do it again, but visually I remember so many explicit details including the turning of the world, the dancing of people on the wrong side of the horizon. 

In the past three years, I've gone through a couple of intense, physical events; they have become necessities to my artistic well-being now. I truly believe that, as in psychological traumas, if you can healthily deal with your sources/traumas/dramas on a creative level, you can healthily deal with them on an emotional level as well.

One half of the above image is the first photo I shot after returning to the music.

You can guess which half.

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