I am deeply frustrated by my foolish complacency in the art of language, photography and videography.
I fear that my English has been reduced to nothing more than a degenerate skill within me, concluded by my recent and frequent self-observations; simple words such as "conversation" become difficult to understand when i hear it being spoken by someone. I frequently lose concentration whenever someone speaks a long sentence ( otherwise i would be actively digesting every word spoken with deep sensual pleasure ) and I am at a loss of words more frequently than i were two years ago.
It is indeed depressing for me as i regard language a very high-level art and one that i strive to gain knowledge and fluency in, though I have no intent whatsoever to speak in a poetric or court-room like manner as I find that impractical to be understood.
I have always been inspired by photographs, especially high contrast, near monochrome ones that are rich in detail and patterns (possibly explaining my attraction to nuts on bolts on a WW2 Japanese and Russian tanks.) . The recent photography class had our pictures returned in a slide and cd format. While everyone else was struck with awe in the technology incorporated with slides (i think that existed long before, really) and some awesome photographs taken by them (Justin's tree bark photo had a magnificient number of details), i sat in the corner of the bench, bitter and angry at the selfish lack of attention i gave into my pictures. These are the best ones i have.
The grass is probably nicer to look at due to the detail, but the only thing i see that was actually me in it was the position of the grass relative to the framing. No effort whatsoever has been done in telling a story with this single photograph; ultimately, it's just another photo. Total waste. Though one could think up of a story of little people living underneath those leaves....
Uninteresting photos.
*There is definitely nothing special with this shot.
*Dark photos. Unintended, unprofessional, idiot.
*note that I didnt focus on intended subject. Stupidity.
Complacency on my part. Snap-and-shoot as i were. Lack of planning. Attention to detail and mise en scene, absent.
I never want to see these pictures again. Total waste. Waste of film. Waste of time.
*I consider film photography a much higher art than those with digital. It is disheartening to see photographers converting to digital with the resaon that it is cheaper in the long run and less mistakes would be made. By this, I feel that the real skill in photography has been diminished; knowing the camera. Too many people have said photography is a simple snap-and-shoot affair, and has been seduced into the money-mongers of the media world as another advertisement tool.
Videography, the very art form that has driven me all these years to imagine myself as many different people and to see the entire universe as a stage; a vast area where possibilities are endless and the immense variety of choices available, is currently the major source of my collapse. Sam is dying. He has been left alone, on his own, kicked around all over the floor. I feel his sadness. He doesnt say it. He subtlely shows it in my work. Like that pair of sad eyes in the corner. A boy, in rags, cuddling in the cold, too weak to even whisper for help, he quietly gazes on at me. Ive pushed Sam too hard. Deliberately asking him to work around the clock even with the knowledge that he is ill. Now, he lays limp on that cold pedestal, sprawled in his bare essentials like an Aztec sacrifice, ready to succumb to fate.
His depression has silently crawled onto me like black venomous liquid. My videos are blunt. They are grainy. They lack depth. They lack story. They lack a good setting. They lack art. They, lack, art.
I spent a night looking at Sam and the two humble boxes that contain works he has produced so enthusiastically for me. Complacency showed again, on my part. The very disease that denied me of the otherwise more successful life i could lead, in NCC, in NVSS, at home, in Ngee Ann and in society.
The thought of quitting this line of work flashes by every now and then, like the flashes of a point-and-shoot photographer.
I fear that my English has been reduced to nothing more than a degenerate skill within me, concluded by my recent and frequent self-observations; simple words such as "conversation" become difficult to understand when i hear it being spoken by someone. I frequently lose concentration whenever someone speaks a long sentence ( otherwise i would be actively digesting every word spoken with deep sensual pleasure ) and I am at a loss of words more frequently than i were two years ago.
It is indeed depressing for me as i regard language a very high-level art and one that i strive to gain knowledge and fluency in, though I have no intent whatsoever to speak in a poetric or court-room like manner as I find that impractical to be understood.
I have always been inspired by photographs, especially high contrast, near monochrome ones that are rich in detail and patterns (possibly explaining my attraction to nuts on bolts on a WW2 Japanese and Russian tanks.) . The recent photography class had our pictures returned in a slide and cd format. While everyone else was struck with awe in the technology incorporated with slides (i think that existed long before, really) and some awesome photographs taken by them (Justin's tree bark photo had a magnificient number of details), i sat in the corner of the bench, bitter and angry at the selfish lack of attention i gave into my pictures. These are the best ones i have.
The grass is probably nicer to look at due to the detail, but the only thing i see that was actually me in it was the position of the grass relative to the framing. No effort whatsoever has been done in telling a story with this single photograph; ultimately, it's just another photo. Total waste. Though one could think up of a story of little people living underneath those leaves....
Uninteresting photos.
*There is definitely nothing special with this shot.
*Dark photos. Unintended, unprofessional, idiot.
*note that I didnt focus on intended subject. Stupidity.
Complacency on my part. Snap-and-shoot as i were. Lack of planning. Attention to detail and mise en scene, absent.
I never want to see these pictures again. Total waste. Waste of film. Waste of time.
*I consider film photography a much higher art than those with digital. It is disheartening to see photographers converting to digital with the resaon that it is cheaper in the long run and less mistakes would be made. By this, I feel that the real skill in photography has been diminished; knowing the camera. Too many people have said photography is a simple snap-and-shoot affair, and has been seduced into the money-mongers of the media world as another advertisement tool.
Videography, the very art form that has driven me all these years to imagine myself as many different people and to see the entire universe as a stage; a vast area where possibilities are endless and the immense variety of choices available, is currently the major source of my collapse. Sam is dying. He has been left alone, on his own, kicked around all over the floor. I feel his sadness. He doesnt say it. He subtlely shows it in my work. Like that pair of sad eyes in the corner. A boy, in rags, cuddling in the cold, too weak to even whisper for help, he quietly gazes on at me. Ive pushed Sam too hard. Deliberately asking him to work around the clock even with the knowledge that he is ill. Now, he lays limp on that cold pedestal, sprawled in his bare essentials like an Aztec sacrifice, ready to succumb to fate.
His depression has silently crawled onto me like black venomous liquid. My videos are blunt. They are grainy. They lack depth. They lack story. They lack a good setting. They lack art. They, lack, art.
I spent a night looking at Sam and the two humble boxes that contain works he has produced so enthusiastically for me. Complacency showed again, on my part. The very disease that denied me of the otherwise more successful life i could lead, in NCC, in NVSS, at home, in Ngee Ann and in society.
The thought of quitting this line of work flashes by every now and then, like the flashes of a point-and-shoot photographer.
Posted by
Audi
RSS
