02-28-11

My life has a shape that is still adapting to the surroundings but is significantly guided by the generations before me. I’m free to change for the future, but am unavoidably bound to how different I’m allowed to be, accordingly to the generations before me. My initial range of potential shapes has been set for me without my say, and am only allowed to be so different in what seems like an endless amount of ways. But anything beyond the relationship to the shape set for me, before me, is inexistent because the laws of nature and evolution deem it impossible for me to break away from the guidance of my past and the reactions I take from my past toward acting upon the future.

03-22-11

Are feelings at all a sort of life endeavor to experience all that can be offered? Life means all to much to a body of feelings of such. What is there to try to know if knowing is naturally given in continuing? Asking why this is the way it is answers life's reasoning for remaining alive.

Contemplation of Enlightenment © Alec Schuppel

Layout (Throwing around ideas)

They Reapper © Annette Pehrsson/Jeremy Larson


Here's an example of how we propose to lay out the photographs and text in a majority of the pages for the book. Every page will not be laid out exactly the same and some pages will simply be white, with no photograph, and only text. The manner in which they're laid out will be based upon how we feel best suits the work as it comes together.

Current Week Progress (Photos later)

13 March 2011
Maybe I'm too illusive to be intriguing,
rather a bore, you seem dismissive,
or maybe I'm misreading signals
and launching insecure conclusions from the safety of my side of the couch.
Maybe these problems aren't really problematic because I've got all the solutions.

To take action, or remain submissive.

I've been overlooking the obvious
because I've circled my thoughts in so many questions around it.
Somehow, I still got this far.

The other side is only an arms distance anyhow.



17 March 2011
These lips have been moving for weeks,
no sounds, fumbling since the rug got pulled out from underneath.
We got stuck somehow with space between.
I fought for something uncertain,
because this time around feels different.



20 March 2011
There's something about the melancholic fall of rain that is unfailingly soothing.
It always sounds the same,
unchanged by these passing days, as I've been.

It cleanses,
and these days trickle out,
washed away into the streets,
disappearing as quickly as they came, no longer seen.

As they depart, I become new again.






















21 March 2011
I never knew that I could shake you.
So cool,
calm and collected on the exterior.
I shattered something seamless
Just to examine its insides,
and hope that I like what I find.

Intertwined No. 1 © Emily Porter

Elsa 2011 © Emily Porter

There once was a child who convinced herself that everyone had a certain amount of words that could depart from their lips before they would died. Worried, she spoke seldom, not wanting to use her words up too soon.

Wait...

Wait....

She watched a young boy use the remainder of his words too soon. He liedthere never to utter a single word again. Starring at the boy in the oak coffin, she tightened her mouth and leaked water from the inner corners of her eyes. So much she had wanted to say to the boy, but he was never to hear her speak again.

Wait.

Wait.

She spoke through her thoughts and knew he was listening. Not a single word spoken aloud and he could hear everything she had needed to say:

Good bye sweet boy, she cried. You have used up your words and collected dear ones on your short journey, yet you still speak to each and everyone of us by merely having existed.

Intertwined No. 2 © Emily Porter

I fear if I shall ever see you again my heart will simply shatter and I will cease to exist.

Walking the earth the rest of my days an empty vessel, never to feel again.

A piece of my soul missing...never to be found again.

Untitled © Emily Porter

My mind is ill with the thought of yesterday...

hopefully one day i may look back and not feel the pain you have carelessly brought onto my heart.

Untitled © Emily Porter

You breathe no longer yet I feel your breath.

you remain a boy in time and i age with each passing day, wondering what you would be like if you stood before me. I find that each moment I spent with you has become precious.

The Beginning and the Process.

As a collaborative team our intent is to successfully intertwine the arts of writing and photography to create a cohesive body of work. We strive to articulate personal thoughts, moments and memories in a way that makes them universal, and to further the understanding of the relationship between text and imagery.

Through keeping and collecting writings and photographs through the weeks we have begun to create an archive of materials to work with. As the materials pile up we sift through and pull out greater themes from the writings that relate to each other as a whole and pick out supporting imagery.

This blog is the process of our editing in order to create the final product, an artist book that binds together the connections we've made to each other's work and between the two art forms of writing and photography.