Following the third year of a holiday letter comprised
of my (increasingly complex) life via a (increasingly complex) year-in-photographs, I
wondered what it would be like to join the great experiment of 365 days of photographs.
I'm not a photographer,
I'm a writer. I'm a visual thinker, and if ever there was proof that a photo is worth a
thousand words, it would be the story a photo tells me, or in this case, about me.
Follow me on this adventure, where I
learn about photography, my ability to record my life, my dedication to something (I've
never been known for doing anything everyday) in my posts. I've also discovered I'm
learning about time, the history of it, and the odd practice of recording it, measuring it,
turning it into something tangible, and I'll record these explorations in the sidebar.
As always, feel free
to say anything. My experiment is not a spectator sport.

May 31, 2009

May 30 2009 Me and My Evidence

If I had a nickel for every time someone said to me today, "What did you paint?" I'd have, well, about a dollar. Apparently I'm not the most tidy painter. "Is that paint on your hands?" the husband asked while I was painting. "Well, I said I'd paint it, not that I'd do it in a professional manner." "It looks like you were experimenting to see what your hair will look like when you get old," said my mother-in-law. Yeah, I leaned into the wall just enough to dust the tips of my hair. "What's that on your hands?" asked my friend. Two hours later, "What's that?" asked her two-year-old son, who didn't seem to know what I was talking about when I said I painted my walls. Anyway, the long and short of it is that I painted the closet today and I made a mess of myself doing so.

Instead of contorting my hand so the camera could see the remnants of the paint, I contorted the cell-phone camera (regular one left at the friends' house this evening) to odd angles until it finally took a photo of what I wanted it to.

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