A very casual update.
the state of being or living alone; seclusion:
to enjoy one’s solitude.
My choice of subject originates from my fascination of the feeling that solitude evokes. My interest for this concept came from the comfort I was able to create for myself when choosing to spend time for and by myself. It was noted by an increase in change how easy it is to adapt when you separate the feeling of loneliness with the enriching sense of solitude. Solitude has personally always been a provisional aspect I needed. I have yearned for the temporary breaks I physically and mentally long for to feel myself grow into my character and adjust to my romanticism of time.
This collection surrounds the concept of solitude strangers enjoy both in public and in the comfort of their spaces. During this project, I contemplated the ethical issues with my invasion of privacy of those who I photographed. This ended the morning that the man whose window faces mine started looking into my room. I often wake up feeling lonely, as though I am the only person waking up in the dark. That morning, I looked into his kitchen and saw him making coffee. I don’t think he knows it, but I joined him and drank mine while he stood by his window.
Throughout the months that this project took place, I noticed my focus shifting from technique to authenticity. Viewing the vulnerability that strangers expose when enjoying time alone transformed this theme into simplicity, where the narrators of the photographs took all significance.
Me ha encantado quererte,
y por eso me pregunto;
por que no vuelves, mi amor?
Almost four years later, the boy who broke my heart, the boy’s friend who humiliated me and made me hate the skin people had seen, and the boy who cheated on me met in England. ‘They told me about this book you’re writing’, one of them said. It was the closure I thought I had found in the past four years. To think, that time truly did its healing. That three men now sat in a different country and had my name make its way into the conversation. And for the first time, followed with truth.
Four years later, the boy, now man, who broke my heart messaged me the words I didn’t need to hear. I promise to you that I did not need to hear them. Yet I understand why I cried and smiled after reading it.
‘Listen Angela I’m sorry but if truth be told I’m not in a good place. I’m very ashamed of who I was and what I’ve become and it’s taking its toll on me. I just want to change my life around, be the good guy and all that stereotypical bullshit you see on TV. And honestly, I’m so disgusted by my relationship with you, all I want is to try and make it right, and I feel like the first step is to change my life, and as selfish and pathetic as it sounds, you’re a painful reminder of who I once was, and I need to change that. I’m trying to move out by saving money working odd jobs, and honestly I’m stressed the fuck out and I’m not the most equipped person to handle it. I’m sorry Angela, you at least deserve to know why im acting like this. I really hope to have that coffee with you when all this is all over, and we can have a proper laugh about how ridiculous we once were, but right now I just need some time. I really hope you’re doing well and that you’re life is finally taking the path you want to lead, you really deserve the world Angela. I’m sorry for all the pain and heartache I’ve caused you, you didn’t deserve any of it. From the bottom of my heart I really hope you’ve finally found peace, you really do mean a lot to me.’
Four years later, I have not stopped loving, but rather stopped waiting to be loved. Four years later, I got to be the girl they did not know how to care for. And four years later, I am no longer the girl who lost them, but rather the girl they did not know how to love.
‘You really deserve the world, Angela’.
The words I am most grateful for.
I realised that femininity is vulnerability, often hidden by men in order to avoid the lack of masculinity. It’s the choice of using everything that applies to beauty from your perspective. I now choose what makes me feel feminine. It can be a red dress or black overalls with a bandana around my natural hair and small hoops that peak through my waves. It is being naked when I am alone and naked with him. It is having the choice to avoid shaving and the choice to crave a silk-like surface on my legs. It is making mistakes and smiling at those who see it and crying as if shame had never been invented. It is sitting on a balcony and feeling like life won’t stop for you, and you wouldn’t choose for it to stop.
After years of doubting where happiness could originate from; I found it. It’s where I am and what I turn the place into. On a sunny day, you will find me in my balcony, or any balcony for that matter. I will be wearing a yellow jumpsuit, a red tied-on top with white polka dots or my very well-utilised red bathing suit top. On a good day, joined by good company, you will find me topless. I will have a cup of espresso with no sugar and no milk, accompanied by long overdue coffee cups that I should put in the sink, and a cigarette in between my two right fingers. I’ll be wearing my hoop earrings that decorate my naked face and I will sit on the floor so that the neighbour’s gardener doesn’t see me. I will be writing. About anything. And everything about that. I will be deep in thought about the things time does not stop for. I will look happy; even if I am not smiling. And I think that the feeling of happiness exudes femininity. It exudes it in a way that a smile will never be able to.
I have periods where, you know, when I feel a little weak or depressed. Fuck it! The Wheaties aren’t going down right. I just go to bed for three days and four nights, pull down all the shades and just go to bed. Get up. Shit. Piss. Drink a beer down and go back to bed. I come out of that completely re-enlightened for 2 or 3 months. I get power from that.
I think someday…they’ll say this psychotic guy knew something that…you know in days ahead and medicine, and how they figure these things out. Everybody should go to bed now and then, when they’re down low and give it up for three or four days. Then they’ll come back good for a while.
But we’re so obsessed with, we have to get up and do it and go back to sleep. In fact there’s a woman I’m living with now, get’s around 12:30, 1pm, I say: “I’m sleepy. I want to go to sleep.” She says: “What? You want to go to sleep, it’s only 1pm!” We’re not even drinking, you know. Hell, there’s nothing else to do but sleep.
People are nailed to the processes. Up. Down. Do something. Get up, do something, go to sleep. Get up. They can’t get out of that circle. You’ll see, someday they’ll say: “Bukowski knew.” Lay down for 3 or 4 days till you get your juices back, then get up, look around and do it. But who the hell can do it cause you need a dollar. That’s all. That’s a long speech, isn’t it? But it means something.