Love That Leaves You Bleeding

Don’t you want to love in a way that leaves you bleeding, a love reckless and cutting and healing and comforting in all the ways that are good and covered with sandpaper or iron. I want to be the anvil, or the hammer, and without a doubt the red hot steel being forged into something sharp. 

I want to capture life with more ferocity than I am now. I think that is the starting place for this next chapter. Life will inspire the art, but art drives the acceleration of life. 

I think for the most part in my life, photography has served far more to capture the lives of others, than my own. This skill is some sort of painfully ironic subversion of the culture I live in, where we have somehow become both the stars and consumers of our own lives. I feel unequipped, not necessarily to indulge in this consumption, but merely to document and share my life well. And perhaps this is where my dissatisfaction is stemming from. I neither see the world differently or speak into it through my art, it is mindless documentation of a moment, which may have merit, but is the heart of that moment conveyed, is there more beauty than self. 

Whether I am writing or drawing or taking photos, I want to create not for my brand, for money, for anything other than beauty and love and friction. Not sure if any one even reads these, but thanks if you are, makes me feel a little less alone at the thought.