Monday, February 28, 2005 æ
RSVPing is such a white thing to do, like camping, tanning and BYOB.
Although I can understand the reasoning behind each of the above concepts, know that I won't ask you to do any of them.
Unless everyone will be taking "heroic doses" of mushrooms, I won't go camping with you and your family. I will not go to the beach and tan because I don't need a tan. I won't tell you to bring your own booze, because I have lots. I will never ask a friend to RSVP. I will personally ask you if you are coming or not.
And if you're white and thinking "I know lots of brown people who camp, tan, rsvp and byob!", you're wrong. So wrong. White culture is not the global culture.
Thursday, February 24, 2005 æ
"I woke up driving and screaming." is the first line in the first story of Twelve Times Lost, a collection 12 short stories by Kevin Fanning.
Back in 2002 kfan offered the "photocopy run" print in exchange for candy instead of money. I sent him some Kinder Surprise because it's banned in the US.
I never kept my copy of Twelve Times Lost on my bookshelf. It's really just some paper folded in half and doesn't really have a visible spine; on a bookshelf it would get lost between other books and I'd never see it again.
A book about being lost shouldn't be on a bookshelf.
Twelve Times Lost was something I definitely wanted to read again, so I hid it. I hid it underneath something, where it wouldn't be visible, but would be easy to find when I would clean up my room. That would give me an excuse to stop everything and re-read it, since no one really wants to clean anyway.
I thought it would be fun and clever to hide it again and repeat this process twelve times. This would probably be a better story if I did do that. There really was no point to being fun and clever.
Instead I put it my bedside table, in the second drawer underneath a really nice notebook I got for a present a long time ago that I've always meant to write in but never have because it's too nice, but mostly because I don't know what to write. I read Twelve Times Lost when I feel lost. I can find it whenever I want.
Twelve Times Lost is now back in print and availble from So New Media for only $5 including shipping. It really is some of kfan's best work. This one will go on my bookshelf. I'll keep the photocopy run under my notebook.
Thursday, February 10, 2005 æ
Today I am very sad to hear about the passing of Nick Kilroy, photographer of Zabriskie Point, and founder of Kin Records.
In July of 2003, Nick emailed me to tell me that he liked my site and the photos I had posted at the time. He also wanted to tell me about the photolog he just started, Zabriskie Point. He wrote,
"Zabriskie Point is a place for images that have recently fallen out of my camera. Words and meanings are few, I like the images to speak for themselves. It's named after both the visually stunning film by Antonioni - highly subjective and indulgent, albeit enjoyably so - and the remote Borax mine in the centre of death valley. My aim is to achieve a similar purposelessness."
He also mentioned to check out his main site, and that it was his label and that said that I'd be hearing about it soon.
We briefly exchanged a few more e-mails about photography and starting a label. He said it was easy and sent me a few links. After that exchange I thought nothing of it and continued visiting his site and enjoying his spectacular photography. The photos were always so surreal and haunting. Enjoyably so.
Cut to the summer of 2004 or so, I start hearing some buzz about a Canadian band called Junior Boys. I do a little searching and I find out that it was Nick who discovered them and released their album Last Exit on his label Kin Records, the very label he promised I'd soon hear about. I remember thinking "how fucking cool is that?". I was proud of him. Some stranger who e-mailed me out of the blue. He said it and he did it. It was a small, good moment.
This morning reading on Pitchfork about his passing threw me for a loop. I didn't know him, but he was somebody I admired, for his beautiful photography, for his excellent taste in music, and for being the kind of person who follows through and doing what he said he would.
Reading through all the comments at ILM, it's comforting to read about how much of a positive impact he had on so many people through similar exchanges just by his sheer enthusisam and determination.
Even though he many not have wanted in it in his art, but in his life, Nick Kilroy was someone with a purpose. And as Philip Sherburne thoughtfully points out, somebody who mattered.
Rest in peace, Nick.