Sunday, July 19, 2009
I cleaned out my room at my parent's home and pleasantly surprised by all the things I forgot I had, forgot I did, forgot I forgot. Silly and emotional drawings from college, jars full of sea glass from New Jersey, epic quantities of books I read or stole from highschool, even the clothes I wore last summer folded up in the drawers. I found the pair for a lavender sock in San Francisco, old pairs of oxidizing wire frame glasses, archaic diabetic supplies, and a box of chocolates, circa 2000. My friend Rebekka is moving to Finland for five years and has also been going through her old things at her parents house to help them consolidate. She found an old journal of mine from when I was 15, which was woefully embarrassing (and illustrated!). I like this muted photograph from October of 1962. Even their red caps vanish into the grayed atmospheric softness of the sun-faded photograph. These boys could have been my father and uncle, captured here pushing a wheelbarrow with the advent of domestic color photography. I like their poses, waiting and curious, their wild ears, the strachy unbent cap brims and those sturdy tall leather boots.