ruzz

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

Tue, 29 May 2012 15:52:37 -0600

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....

Thu, 24 May 2012 12:02:59 -0600

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...

Thu, 17 May 2012 09:15:42 -0600

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.

6 freaking days left to help these crazy mother’s get it...

Tue, 15 May 2012 22:22:47 -0600

6 freaking days left to help these crazy mother’s get it done. they are close now. $1100 away i think. c’mon.

this is exactly what the internet is for.

and kittens.

and porn.

but this too.

weakmeatstrongeat:

Corpus Callosum is over half-way to our Kickstarter goal, with 16 days left to go! Tell everyone! Especially your rich arts-loving friends who are looking for ways to get rid of their surplus of dollars!

(Thanks to everyone who has donated and spread the word so far. Every dollar and reblog helps.)

(via Corpus Callosum’s first national tour — Kickstarter)

when you’ve always been your own worst enemy and have a long history of self sabotage, but...

Tue, 08 May 2012 09:17:48 -0600

when you’ve always been your own worst enemy and have a long history of self sabotage, but know that if you’re ever going to get where you think you want to go you’ll have to learn to trust yourself, and learn how to tell which parts of you are destruction, and which lead to freedom.

this can be tricky business and is best done while no one is looking.

and if you can’t arrange that, best done while you’re young.

and if you can’t arrange that, best done quickly.

like pulling off a band-aid.

i got interviewed for Calgary is Awesome about my street...

Mon, 07 May 2012 09:42:40 -0600

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.

Hello! I may have sent you this ask already, and if so disregard this, but if I haven't I was wondering if you'd be willing to sell prints of your photographs?

Sat, 05 May 2012 18:35:35 -0600

i’ve considered it. it’s a lot of work to do right. what did you have in mind?

your blog is so alluring...love your work. don't stop!

Sat, 05 May 2012 18:35:06 -0600

i promise i won’t. even if you use the safe word :)

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

Sat, 05 May 2012 18:21:41 -0600

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

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

Thu, 03 May 2012 14:13:44 -0600

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...

Wed, 02 May 2012 22:25:36 -0600

johnnytremendous:

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

very better

Sun, 29 Apr 2012 14:17:34 -0600

me: why do you still use a paper dictionary? why not online?
someone: you know, sometimes you need a very better word.
me: oh boy.

you know what i can’t work out? how i have nothing but...

Sun, 29 Apr 2012 08:32:38 -0600

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...

Fri, 27 Apr 2012 17:17:01 -0600

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...

Thu, 26 Apr 2012 09:17:30 -0600

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.

Photo

Wed, 25 Apr 2012 16:56:04 -0600

livingbreathingstreet: “I got caught stealing, and it...

Wed, 25 Apr 2012 13:36:17 -0600

livingbreathingstreet:

“I got caught stealing, and it sucks”

or it could have said lying, his mom made him turn it away before i could fully read it let alone get the shot. he was forced to stand in the middle of stephen avenue confessing his crimes while his mother watched comfortably from a park bench.

some people call this punishment, i call it public shaming.

as we walked by a bunch of late teen girls broke out in a fit of laughter at him.

you see a lot of stuff on the street but some of it seems made up.

this is the cat that sleeps outside my window. we talk a lot....

Mon, 23 Apr 2012 16:30:36 -0600

this is the cat that sleeps outside my window.

we talk a lot. he’s a good listener.

it’s a good system we have. it’s like i own a cat (which i miss) without owning a cat (which i can’t because of allergies).

and now, he’s fucking famous on the internets.

when he comes back, i’ll let him know.

how do i explain the light bouncing to and fro and mixing...

Sun, 22 Apr 2012 09:44:00 -0600

how do i explain the light bouncing to and fro and mixing against brick and mud splattered glass? the stained concrete running wild and loose against the tar black pavement of downtown streets? the junkies and broken people? the old men sitting on benches. the old women smiling at kids walking by while remembering their children, their grandchildren? the military bagpipes rolling off the cavernous walls of 5th avenue as a military procession inches by me? as if we’re all in a cave, together, guns and kilts, and concrete and steel? or the fat ladies shaking their bodies with smiles on their faces as they take part in a flash mob? or the mother who shamed her child by making him stand in the middle of the street with a sign explaining why he was not beautiful, amazing, capable of anything? a sign that explained he had secrets, that he wasn’t a perfectly socialized animal? how do i explain she was setting him up to be one of the broken junkies i see sitting listless just down the road? how? how can i explain my eye raking the sky trying to keep up to fluttering specks of pigeons dodging in and out, and through, the giant buildings built to cement the aspirations of man? or following them too far and carving the bright spring sun on the back of my eye? how can i put words to miles of interwoven metal fences bound tight like lover’s fingers? streets that end nowhere? pissing in found portapotties and million dollar public toilets that tell me i have a 10 minute maximum, toilets that don’t want me to get high in them, or have semi-public sex in them? how can i explain the savage barrage of sounds and slight vibrations of sitting on park benches in the sun holding my camera against my fat thigh and the billions of ways this is not sitting in a dark basement 45 mins to the north staring into a box that pretends to be an expanse, pretends to be a network like the power lines that crack and hum above me are a network? how can i explain the awkward smiles of girls standing in front of money exchanges trying not to strum the wrong strings on wooden instruments while i smile at them with all the smiles i can’t use? then pull my camera up, shaky handed and try to express how this could be a wall, or a stair, or a tv show, or nipple, or a tangle of pubic hair or the black of the night with orange street light blurry and caught half moving, but isn’t? it could be anything my eye, or camera could look at, the sprawl of farmer’s fields, or heated cork floors or my father doing a puzzle, my mother playing facebook games, the dog looking out the window, a cavalcade of pickup trucks or grain elevators, or green drop laden trains passing slow past main street? but it’s not. it’s a girl in the city, playing her music, it’s the lives of a million humans happening independently but conjoined, heaving and throbbing and foisting needs and hopes against one another? how can i explain but to say, it is home and where my heart is full and my body in motion and my unique but almost useless parts all come together in unexpected ways and find some use. it is home. it is my home.

"why don’t you come on back to the war, it’s just beginning. Well I live here with a..."

Sat, 21 Apr 2012 09:06:50 -0600

“why don’t you come on back to the war, it’s just beginning.
Well I live here with a woman and a child
the situation makes me kind of nervous..
Yes, I rise up from her arms,
she says “I guess you call this love”,
I call it service..
Why don’t you come on back to the war, don’t be a tourist”

- leonard cohen, there is a war