All gold doesn't glitter...

     I've always had a problem with the saying, "All that glitters is not gold."  My mind always find more truth in the reverse, "All gold doesn't glitter."  The longer I live.... The more people I encounter... The more experience I get under my belt... I am really learning that the purest gold actually looks gritty to the naked eye.

     Typically, this piece of wisdom is used in reference of people and appearances.  I have learned firsthand that the glittery, unicorn-chasing boys can be evil, too.  But, more so, I have seen how many people are mistakenly appraised and overlooked.  All gold doesn't glitter, it can be rough and dirty without losing its integrity and valuable nature.

     In the kink community, I've found gold under every stone.  From the surface, dirty, twisted and/or problematic people, have proven to be authentically precious.  Trustworthiness and talent can exist within a person with sadomasochistic proclivities.  Alternatively, just because a person's an optimistic, politically conscious lovechild doesn't mean they're inherently good.  Furthermore, the biggest assholes I've met in life have always came for the latter group.

Just a thought...

"Nightingale" by Robert G. Bartholot

0k Marathon

      I have a challenge for you.  Are you up for it?  I hope that your stamina allows you to sustain the distance. It’s my wish that you endure.  My challenge for you: love me…without “loving” me.  Are capable of running a marathon without steps or strides?  Swim the seas without a single stroke?
      Let your hands itch with latent action.  Let your body become impregnated without the promise of life.  Let the nature of love remain a spacious mystery… a joyful gamble… a marathon ran in stillness.  It's difficult, I know, to let something so divine remain nameless...  To let a force so powerful go without harnessing. 

Are you up to it?

     Allow the love to swell within you.  Allow it to do its own bidding.  Aimless.  Chaotic.  Painful.  Love always takes it own course anyways…  Can you step aside?  Can you love without demonstrating its existence?  Can your tongue babble nonsensically, betraying your need to be understood?

Are you capable of running a 0k marathon…

With the knowledge it may last forever?

"I've have a package for you" by Phillip Riches

An American Fantasy

7:00 a.m.

1/2 liter of Syntha-6 protein shake

with almond milk

12:00 p.m.

Weight training

1:00 p.m.

Kale salad with cantaloupe and chicken breast

6:00 p.m.

Another helping of Syntha-6

and a egg white and spinach omelette

10:00 p.m.

Pass out in a hunger-induced slumber.

     There was a time when I thought Exterface's "Picnic Warriors" set was absolutely disgusting.  Big Macs.  Analingus.  French Fries.  Finger fucking.  Something rubbed me really wrong about the mixture of oral sex and hamburgers.  I've always found this collection a little gross.

That was until I began dieting.

     Since I've been eating clean and working out five days a week, I've been so damn hungry!  Nowadays, seeing images of physically fit men binging on fast food and dessert arouses me.  Seeing commercials sexy surfers eating hamburgers on the beach...  Kim Kardashian rolling around in her lingerie while chewing on some Carl Jr's...  If only I could fool myself into believing these people actually eat this shit.

It's the American fantasy:

We love the notion of beautiful, gluttonous gods.

    

"Picnic Warriors" by Exterface

    

"Photo-Apotemnophilia" by Forbidden Light

Divided by glare, I'm lost in the shine.

Splendor and oil slices me in half.

To be amputated by light...

...is to have an encounter with God.

     The prefix 'photo' means light and 'apotemnophilia' is the clinical term for those whom desire to be amputated.  This fabricated term seems appropriate for my recent photographic experiment.  In the tradition of my favorite photographer, Gonzalo Benard, I've been practicing the art of self-portraiture.  Using items present in my household, I've been having so much fun constructing visual statements.

     Slathering on a thick layer of Castor oil, I wanted to see what would happen if I stood right next to my light source.  No flash.  No digital effects.  The light reflecting from my heavily oiled body wiped out a segment of my body!  I fell in love with the amputating effect!

     Frontally facing the bright light created an illusion that my waist was very small while maintaining muscular backside.  Using a tripod and a timer, I simply faced the light pointed my ass towards the camera. (LOL) I would love the opportunity to continue this glare experiment with other models with different skin tones and body types.

     Another aspect to this experiment with light & oil, I also smeared some oil onto the lens of the camera and had fun hiding behind the blur.  The result struck an accord with me, because I've always felt more aroused by creative censoring than hardcore images bearing everything.  Creating fully exposed silhouettes, I had some material that was subtly erotic (and fit for Facebook!)

Multi-Demensional

With sex on my breath, I pray to The Holy Spirit.

I write God-breathed psalms with the scent of ass under my fingernails.

I dress myself in the finest linen
Without rinsing the fluids from my flesh.

I'm multi-dimensional

and it's okay.

Mystery

     While being a conscious being, I am still a mystery to myself.  There are facets of my nature that language fail to describe.  Certain features will never be translate into the physical world.  My hands aren't designed to build the monuments lodged in my head.  My lips are unable to pronounce the secrets of my soul.  The more I learn about myself, the more I discover that the depth of this mystery runs deeper.

I believe this to be true for us all.

     I traveled the world, seeking a comprehensive reflection of myself.  Stressing my ears, I struggled to hear my name uttered within the noise.  Squinting my eyes, I could see something shimmering in the darkness...I hoped it was the truth.  I wanted to see my face so badly.
     I have to learned to savor this mystery.  Instead of boiling myself down to a sum, I surf on the dark waters finding freedom in its fluidity.  There is so space to create within the void.  There are so many colorful harmonies in the silence.

There is much pleasure in remaining undefined.

    

'Inflate' by Anthony Maule

     

Two Miles with Aaron

     The two miles between my home and the lake was more challenging than I expected.  Shoulders burning...  Shoes betraying every step...  Constantly switch arms to give the other a break.  Tonight was the night I took custody of Aaron and I was compelled to capture him.

Aaron, Chandra Garsson's first sculpture,

is more than just a piece heavy with symbols,

but a symbol of heaviness.

     A baby stroller, coated in dust and paint, carrying a myriad of baby limbs.  Sitting in the center, the handsome head of an adult man.  Its handle is anointed with a crown of crayons.  Dangling at the top of this haunting piece is an infant's garment: delicate and dirty.  I thought, "At one point, I was small enough to fit into this shirt."

     The two miles between my home and the lake was more challenging than I expected.  Four wheels evolved beyond their purpose to roll.  Seven lifeless arms reminds me that mine aren't any different.  Shifting and expressive eyes giving this sculpture soul.  More reason to find this piece haunting. 

     Lugging him to the park at 2 o'clock in the morning, I had the idea to shoot him at night.  Leaving my wallet and cell phone at home, the spirit of caution weighed heavily on the atmosphere.  My camera was the loudest thing happening.  If it weren't for the distant streetlights, I'd be totally blind.  Police cars continually crept passed as I carried this baby carriage around the dark lake.

Risk is fertile ground for brilliance.

      The two miles between my home and the lake was more challenging than I expected.  The more inconvenient Aaron became, the more I realized what he symbolized.  I realized that he wasn't the first child I've had to lug around.  I believe Aaron represents the burdensome blessing of an artist.  Novels collecting dust.  Recordings stuck in my fucking head.  Forgotten images that will never see the light of day.  These children haunt my ever waking moment.  Walking with Aaron in my fatigued arms opened my eyes to my own weightless burdens.

    
I, too, am disturbed by dense dreams.
However, I keep marching towards my dreams of density.

Sculpture by Chandra Garsson/ Photographer: Forbidden Light