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I am, by the way, in Calgary. Do not worry, however, you did not miss a thing. I arrived just over a day ago and have spent my time so far in ordinance to instant gratification and meditative non-compliance.
Betwixt my last visit to Calgary and this, I, amongst other things, managed to watch “The Graduate”.
The absence of noise in Calgary has always struck me, but now I have song to go along with it. “The Sound of Silence”, featured prominently in “The Graduate” pops into my head and serves as an appropriate accompaniment to the frozen, uninterrupted air.
When I speak of the silence, people assume a negative context and treat it like a disparaging remark. However, I appreciate the contrast. New York is noisy and dirty. Calgary is quiet and clean. If you subordinate yourself to either for long enough you become tired of it.
Well, lots of interesting stuff has happened. Moved apartment. Did my first campaign. Fusion finally got a website. I took up JKD. I read some interesting books. I did some shoots on rooftops, on the beach, in Times Square, in studios. Lived without hot water or heat for a substantial amount of time.
Anyway, somehow it all feels phenomenally dull. Like that movie, Groundhog Day, where Bill Murray keeps on waking up to “I Got You Babe”.
I had this big goal to move to New York. Like anything is possible here. Now, saturated in possibility, I am too heavy to move.
As I was saying, a lot of stuff has happened. I have a job offer at a cool company and if all goes well, I will start working there soon. So, for the first time in a very long time, I will stay put for a while.
By the way, I’m nearly sick of fashion magazines. You see pictures upon pictures of pretty people in pretty clothes. The models look confused, angry, or notoriously vacant and the articles look the same way. Once in a while you see your friend and think “good for him!”; unless you went to the casting and your pulse quickens under veiled jealousy and despair. The worst are the magazines with smiling celebrities on the cover. The second worst are the magazines with celebrities on the cover doing a model pose. I proactively (though I despise the word, that was the best antonym I could muster for retroactively) retract that in the (un)fortunate event that I become a celebrity.
Like I said, I’m nearly sick of fashion magazines. Once in a while, however, I am captivated by a nice cover, like Agyness Deyn on that Pop Magazine rave issue cover, and feel compelled to find reason to purchase the entire issue. There is another magazine I just discovered called Plastique which is, incidentally, also British. It does the fashion, art, and something-something theme like the other magazines that the cool people reference in casual conversation with other cool people wearing skinny jeans and colourful runners that are not at all meant for running. Plastique, however, was actually interesting on the inside.
The Plastique layout is well constructed and the design generously indulges my fledgling typography fetish. On the downside, it’s issue number 2 and the cover comes in red, blue and purple which defiantly scorns my obsessive need for completeness. I can live with blue. Red is too warm and purple too trendy. But I need number 1. At least I need to see it and pass judgement.