mainia

Josh and I moved into our new apartment not twenty-four hours ago. All my clothes are still in boxes, so feast upon the last of my Maine pictures. I’m gonna go watch some slasher movies.

there’s a flapper on your lawn

Sometimes I find a really outstanding piece and never end up photographing it because I’m afraid of ruining everything. This hat, $3 at Battery Street Jeans, almost went that way. I have this weird little hang-up about shooting a new garment for the first time. Like the first photos I take of it will inform…

gemini

I admit these are not the best photos ever. But the only full-length mirror I have current access to is in my dad’s Kung Fu studio, where the light is pretty tricky. Nevertheless, this is a concept I’ve wanted to try for a while, so you’ll have to forgive the quality. (I’d also like to…

meet you on god’s golden shores

The minutes before a Maine sunset stretch out longer than they should. They make me want to crawl beneath the waves and emerge only to tempt drunken sailors’ dreams of mermaids.

but the devil take the women for they never can be easy

I’m feeling super &$(@*$% autumnal, even though it’s August sixteenth and Spirit Halloween isn’t even open yet. But I can’t help it – the tide has turned. Once I’ve been to Maine, once I’ve baptized my body in salt and surf, it’s aaalll about sweaters, gourds, and something ineffably fae in the air. I’ve listened…

real live ghost

Since I’m big on both a) creepypastas and b) misleading the public, here are my attempts at some “real live GHOST!!!1111!!!1!” shots. It’s so damn easy to trick the naked eye – I mean, we’re programmed to find faces in just about anything. But it’s kind of amazing to see just how otherworldly you can…

crumpets

I’m still in Maine as long as there’s still sand in my hair, right? (No, but actually: I fear it’s multiplying.) I got back last night, but I’ll probably be processing these photos for days. So you’ll have to keep seeing the seaside long after the leaves have turned and you wish the sand would…

by the sea (mr. t)

We practice consensual nonconsent, the ocean and I. My wading into the surf constitutes tacit permission, and the waves beat me down again and again, weighing my swimsuit with salt. I may emerge gasping and stinging, but at least my piercings have gotten a thorough rinse. I love the ocean. I love kitsch and lobster…

seeing things

Thine eyes deceiveth not! I legit cannot remember the last time I wore pants in public. But these were $1 at Shalom Shuk (for non-Burlingtonians: an awesome thrift shop run out of a synagogue), and they have fruit on them, so. Even when you’re committed to an aesthetic, you can’t always resist the call of…

thrill popping

I sometimes have mixed feelings about bored/drugged housewife shoots. There’s a fine line between engaging a trope and actually promoting an idea for real. I don’t want to put into the ether the notion that there’s anything inherently unfulfilling about housewifery. But I also firmly believe that art has to play by its own rules….

8/1

By Jove, I think I’ve mastered taking pictures in the rain. A bright red door certainly doesn’t hurt. I feel like a tourist in the mod, murky countryside – inasmuch as I can imagine such a thing beyond culture’s cliche representations.