ruzz

BOOM.

fuck fine art. i’ll take a fine ass instead. 

this shot is dedicated to Douglas Magritte Springer who made the weekend in town, and this shot possible by letting out his pad to me for 4 days. 

and what a weekend it was.

they’ll try to control you with their judgements. they’ll stand you up and tell you which parts to move and when. dance, they’ll say. dance or i’ll withdraw my love or approval, or affections. i’ll pull back my hand and ball my fists and show you all the darkness i keep tidy just below the surface. dance. fucking dance you piece of shit. 

you’ll concede here and there. walking the line between giving what’s fair and trying to hold on to your own opinions. it’s not a balance that can be kept. you’ll never please them enough to hold their eager tongues. or placate their trembling egos. 

one day you’ll be dead and rotting, forgotten. all those ropes they try to throw over you, around you, will be holding on to nothing. stopping nothing. signifying nothing. 

and the secret they don’t tell you is given enough time they’ll withdraw all those things when they get bored, or find some new toy to play with. 

there’s not a damn thing wrong with that. it’s just the way of things. 

so don’t give what you don’t want to give. don’t trade what you don’t want to lose. don’t believe for one second that anything you do will make a person less likely to do what they want. 

your life is short. your opportunities for real joy are few. take them and the judgements and hate and abandonment that follow naturally. 

i’ve been dwelling a lot in myself these days. moving from thing to thing with as much care as having nothing but time allows. i’m slowing down. everything is slowing down. 

the rebellion that was aching and throbbing has birthed a strange isolation. everything is dark and wide and mostly empty in me. 

i have no complaints. no arguments. 

i use this time to contemplate geometry, and texture, and the ties that bind me to my place or time, or people. the ties that weaken and fall away, or strengthen. i have these giant skies that pour light onto everything and i have to seek out the shadows. it’s a sort of madman’s effort. 

what is there to say? I’m not unhappy. 

i find a way everyday to make a photo or two that tells me something about what goes on inside me. they come out apocalyptic, full of the grunge and the fine dirt that blows in off the empty prairie. my highlights blowout. my shadows block up and i look inside the square and try to find something, anything, which tells me something. 

isolation. deprivation. dislocation. aftermath. texture. direction. angles. forms. 

i’m slowing down and running hot. slowing down and burning from the inside out. burning through frame after frame. burning through long nights where more often than not she comes and shares in play in my dreams and leaves me sore and more alone when i wake. 

i’m swallowing everything down and strip mining for nutrients. building something dark and comprehensive that will seem like a random thought when it finally emerges, but will be long considered and long hewn. 

i brought my brooding side with me here and it’s working night and day on forming the foundations for when i escape. concentrating everything. narrowing everything.

when these chains that slow me finally come free i’m apt to tear myself apart trying to get out, and apply what i dwell on daily now. 

i take nothing for granted anymore. nothing for given. everything is ripe and lush and demands full engagement. i see that now. the coasting and searching is over. the endless turning of this stone or that, whatever lay before me, has ended. 

i got interviewed for Calgary is Awesome about my street photography. which is sort of cool. I feel weird about it now that it’s out. it’s too focused on me, not enough on the street but it hopefully will open some doors and help grow the living breathing street. i guess it’s a dance of sorts to bring exposure to the site without putting it on me at the same time. I’ll have to get to be a better dancer. 

we talk about the environment like we aren’t the environment.

eddie came out to play in crossfield with me yesterday. it was a day of firsts. 

first time i’ve done a model shoot this year (for me). first model shoot since i’ve moved. first time i’ve used the x100 for 95% of the shots. first nude shoot of the year. first time i’ve lost my composure when the boobs came out (in a long time). i guess country living makes you more sensitive to.. well, to boobs. first outdoor shoot for eddie and me. first time i’ve put a model on the bed of a semi truck trailer or poked around farmland for spots to shoot. first in a series of all natural light model shoots this year. first friend who has come out to see me since i moved. first day of just goofing around and feeling like i’m living my life again. 

it was a good day, and we got a lot of shots out of tough surroundings and dodging farmers with shotguns. 

johnnytremendous:

Kicking off the campaign!  The lovely Keera looking all spooky for Ruzz while wearing our stuff.  Thanks to everyone!

you know what i can’t work out? how i have nothing but time on my hands and i can’t keep up to the tiny list of things i need done.

everyday follows a predictable rhythm in a way my life never has and still things fall through the cracks almost daily. 

you’d think being off work would mean i’d be powering through books left and right, out walking everyday shooting, and taking care of the long lists of things undone from years of barely being able to keep up but in truth most of my time is spent trying in some way or other to find a thing to do that doesn’t put my body in a position to complain about it.

i’m also on very limited computer time and trying to keep my websites up really chews through the time i have for the computer which makes me ask myself if the real lesson here is how to live a life without computers?

i’ve spent almost 30 years peering into this box. 

you wonder if there’s a better way to live. 

yesterday was just a blur of blinding pain. it spilled over.

today was a blur of blinding pain and dealing with people who say they want to help but really are employed to make sure you never get help. 

but it didn’t spill over. 

see.

a year ago i walked into the woods of bowmont park still in a winter kind of mind. I walked out and it was spring. i took a couple hundred largely unfocused, boring pictures of the ugly tangled transition when the snow melts to reveal the wasteland that died before it came. it didn’t matter if the pictures were good, my legs were moving and i felt excited for what was coming. 

this morning i dragged myself out of bed to stop the screaming pain in my back. i looked out at the soupy fog and debated how far i’d get before i regretted throwing a camera bag over sore shoulders. i listened to the crows caw from some unseen spot while i waited for a heat bag to heat up and tried to remember what i told myself i’d do today. 

a year ago i felt like i’d unlocked myself. tripped the delicate bands and tilted the unrelentingly sensitive balance in the right direction. i wasn’t sure how i’d pay the rent, or eat but i knew if i could keep my feet moving i’d be okay.

this morning i’m nearing the third month where i have no rent and when i want to eat i climb the stairs and hum and haw against complexity of a brimming fridge. the sensitive balance shifted back somewhere and i’m landlocked. stuck. unmoving and unmovable. i don’t feel like i’m going to be okay anymore.