At the quarter of a century, my prefrontal cortex supposedly clicks into place and the chaos of a lifetime begins to settle into stillness; an inadvertent quarter life crisis, in a new city, and my second mother tongue, shifting shapes and identities and shedding layers of naivety, nestling into nuance – I've struggled to put words to so many deeply felt reflections, and life is such a snowball of one beautiful thing into another, packing in the snow of experiences with layers and layers of growth and little time to examine the individual snowflakes that are giving shape to me, a snowwoman, an ice queen, a fennec fox, a white rabbit, a Dutch girl, a hummingbird, che'è 'a cazzimma! Una Bella 'Mbriana. A team of mind, body, and soul. A part to a whole.
Part of my expression and what I've studied the most consistently is photography, and the state of my work reflects this state of selfhood: an expanding arsenal of sensations and form, detailed studies and happy accidents, vignettes and snapshots saved in confused clusters, so much thought and little to show, little to say. Photographs made of people with such momentary devotion and stricken inspiration - lost at sea among a million megabytes.
I love making a picture of someone, and showing them themselves, observing their reaction, whether pleased to be rendered this way, or curious at a composition that perhaps reveals a new self to them.
All this to say that to have some photos made of me, that capture my essence in this time of personal revolution, in the place where I am most vulnerable and most secure at once, the most unfettered and in communion with others.. è una grande soddisfazione. Queste foto mi ricordano la grande importanza della fotografia, del misterioso mestiere che ho scelto. X
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((Trofimov)) Io non ho ancora trent'anni, sono giovane, sono ancora studente, ma è come se avessi cent'anni! Ogni inverno che arriva, sono di nuovo affamato, malato, senza un soldo, senza un'idea di dove andrò domani: dove non m'ha scaraventato il destino: non se l'immagina! Ma dovunque, in ogni momento, la mia anima è sempre piena di inspiegabili presagi: sento che la felicità sta per arrivare, Ania... la vedo già …
Entraining. Though, I have boarded. Riding the train, traveling by train — am I training? Like cycling, like driving. There doesn’t seem to be a singular verb, rather definitions. Train-taking, perhaps. Nearly arrived, to a word to describe the feeling. In transit, between places, Pozzuoli and Naples, in this case; between homes, between worlds, between realities. Quantum leaping, on trains, studying the landscape and liberating mind and body from the digital grips. The phone becomes a lifeless object for a while, a tool again, to capture a glimpse. Immortalized, never arriving. Not negative, just actual, in the artifact itself.
cool spring summer
dusk before a personal retrograde
first night the cicadas sing
who knew they were in this city?
for once a welcome sound
like the wind, like the chimes, and the neighbor
playing their grand piano;
the lack of sun in London
brought tears to my eyes in the morning light
as the absence of quiet in Naples
asks me to listen for it.
sara somewhere else
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Stamford Hill, London Borough of Hackney
Photo walk no. 5 with @cecinestpasmedia
🤳🏼: the solar @dam1s0la
#riptomyblog #autumnal #changechangechange
