if my life were a postsecret

my current thoughts would look something like this:

art department photobooth snapshot

this photo makes me realize that i am going to miss the shit out of some people when i graduate.

self portrait of the artist on the eve of her 21st birthday

let's be honest. the negatives are shit because the vintage lightmeter i was using gave me a reading two stops too low. i printed them on a 3 filter, which strikes me as a cardinal sin in the church of ansel adams (side note: i thought about changing my facebook religious views to 'the zone system', but realized no one would find that funny). but it's not like these are photographs that i can reshoot, and they will still remain valuable to me because of their moment in time. just goes to show the beautiful images that i have produced in the past are not by accident, but by a deliberate and arduous process that typically goes shoot-catastrophe-reevaluate-reshoot. but what if we instilled an ethic of photographic process that can't be subject to this form of reiteration? that too has to answer to contingency? would roland barthes roll over in his grave?

and then i sat in studio crunching an apple and thinking about the meaning of photography

this is how i spend my saturday mornings. maturity has turned me into an old woman.

to do list for the eve of my 21st birthday

1. cut hair
   
2. inventory my body with 3200 speed film

d.f. in a nutshell

took this with my holga at the the insurgentes bus stop in d.f., whose recessed concrete plaza doubles as a skate park and marketplace. it contains a few of my favorite things: couples, blue skies, and the color orange

notes on estrangement