Strange and unproductive thinking (Thank you, David Lynch)
When it comes to art, whether it is music, cinema, literature, or art in any imaginable form, cheerful doesn’t do anything for me. I like difficult or painful emotions, hard subjects, both disturbing and eerie. Joyful creations always feel empty to me, as if happiness in a creation was the prerogative of the entertainer as opposed to despair being the essence of the artist.
In that regard, it’s a bit like my tastes for clothes, I think that wearing bright colours make me look silly, I believe it is not something tasteful for me to wear. I prefer darker tones, black, marine blue, adding some shades of grey is fine. Though lately I have developed a love for very discrete turquoise highlights. Before that, I liked more obvious highlights of red better.
Speaking of red, it is a colour that I cannot evade, but no one can actually. As the french electro-minimalist musicians from “Air” have perfectly expressed in their lyrics : “the redhead girl goes by ; the course of time stands still”. I have a fine tuned redar and it shows in almost all of my colour pictures. You will see in those that reds are usually very powerful, vibrant whereas I purposefully make all the other colours fade away. People sometimes tell me my red-dominated pictures look unreal, but I only really want to share a vision through my biased eyes and try to convey the underlying emotions that accompanied experiencing what I saw.
Experience is something that I feel I lack, I can be decent in a lot of different [photographic] fields, but I don’t feel that I have any kind of well-built specialty or uniqueness. Except maybe for black and white photographs. They are far from demonstrating uniqueness but they sure have become my specialty. I try to get as close as possible to analog processing with my digital images. I suppose that I am suffering from nostalgia, having become sentimental about the darkroom, the baths and the patience that I had to learn to work with those. What I miss above all is the magic of revealing the picture on a print and, yes, the odours of the chemicals involved in the process.
While I am on the subject of odours, I have to say that I also miss some fragrances and tastes that I’d gladly experience instead of this dreadful coffee smell that has spread across my flat. Note that I am not really against the bouquet of coffee, but I most certainly had one cup too many tonight which is why I cannot sleep or at least it is a partial answer for my sleeplessness.
Insomnia has the ability to make my gray matter hard drive spin too fast and even though that for the past few months, I have been living something unbelievably positive and powerful that has kept getting stronger with each passing day and that thanks to that, I have managed to find an unexpected balance in my life and have unlocked or even healed so much of myself, I still find that professionally, and as far as creativity and artistic endeavours are concerned, I frequently feel lost wondering about what I should do, what I shall become, I struggle to find a way. I ask myself a lot of questions, I wander into self-doubt and it ends up feeding some kind of vicious brain worm, causing strange and unproductive thinking. Strange and unproductive thinking.