I really need to update.

This is my level of comprehension at the moment. Drawing dicks in the sand.
Hallelujah.

I never want to grow up.
I'm recently feeling like a child again, filled with so much curiosity and desire to see, touch and smell everything. I want to meet new people and know what they think about the most random things. That is connected with my artistic and expressive side, I feel the need to capture bits of life in my camera, on the paper, in the colors, words, movements. It's almost ridiculous how much meaning I find in everything everyone says to me. But the other side of me is very shy, nervous, mistrusting. When I've had to do some journalistic work I'm sometimes so afraid to approach people, afraid to invade their private space, I get paralyzed. I'm so diffident I've never even learned how to drive a car. I don't get how those two characteristics compute. But I'm working on myself. I really want to go abroad. I decided to strive for a scholarship to study in London next year.

I've been in different places in Estonia recently, taking time off and (over)thinking.








My father looks like a mobster and acts like a kid.


My little brother is all grown up.




And me.

Abjection à la Julia Kristeva feat. the egocentric and the superficial.
...

I've been feeling somewhat melancholic and lonesome lately. My loved one is now away on mandatory military service for eleven months. Although I've often felt the need for time on my own during the last few years, it's still difficult not being able to contact and talk to my best friend.

Also, I changed my hair a bit.



I couldn't decide whether to cut or dye it dark again, so I just clipped some of it off when I was drunk. I'm still pondering over the color.

+ The regular mimesis.

The 5 things you can't live without.







Someone left their pink glasses here. It has been weeks and no claimants. I have no idea. Many people visit us, I've tried asking the most likely owners, but nothing. I guess the glasses weren't on that person's "5 things" list. Or maybe that person doesn't even have that list.

I'm already liking that phlegmatic incognito.


The things you own end up owning you. It's only after you lose everything that you're free to do anything.

I've been staying in lately and not doing much.




My thoughts are revolving around Guy Debord's concept of spectacle and all the images surrounding us.

In societies dominated by modern conditions of production, life is presented as an immense accumulation of spectacles. Everything that was directly lived has receded into a representation.

The images detached from every aspect of life merge into a common stream in which the unity of that life can no longer be recovered. Fragmented views of reality regroup themselves into a new unity as a separate pseudoworld that can only be looked at. The specialization of images of the world evolves into a world of autonomized images where even the deceivers are deceived. The spectacle is a concrete inversion of life, an autonomous movement of the nonliving.

The spectacle is not a collection of images; it is a social relation between people that is mediated by images.

This fragmentation is both disturbing and captivating - we can never grasp the essence of a person or whichever phenomenon as a whole or as it "really" is, but at the same time, it leaves room for the imagination and mystery. But it is surely true - everything is represented through images.

I remembered American Beauty and that teenage boy who thought a plastic bag in the wind was the most beautiful thing he had ever filmed. Though this concrete example might be a bit corny, accordingly to one's tastes, I still like the idea it imparts. When something simple represents something else. Beauty in ugliness and ugliness in beauty. Transferred meanings, metaphors, symbolism, aesthetics of random things. You can make anything out of anything. And hope it won't get lost in the spectacle.

My representation of my hangover this morning.

Extension du domaine de la lutte.

We have the need for adventures and erotica, because we have the constant necessity for an affirmation to the fact that life is magnificent and exciting; and clearly we have some doubts about it.



Sad little Botoxface -
oversized human race

Lucky to shoot.



The most powerful weapon in the world is wielded by men. They carry it in their pants. Guns look phallic and shooting associates with ejaculation.

Nevertheless, a woman with a gun is always cool. The more graphic it is, the better. It also tends to be a statement, BUT it doesn't have to be. The postmodern principles/absence of principles of interpreting art allow almost all perceptions.

All you need to make a movie is a girl and a gun.
(Jean-Luc Godard)

Nowadays women shoot with all sorts of things.
There's the Sex and the City kind of shooting.

Which could also mean shooting with a pen. Or a camera.

Countless opportunities.

Suggested reading: Virginia Woolf A Room of One's Own.