The pool party at the PUrple mountain hotel in Pudong was kind of well–i got in for free, so i guess i shouldn’t complain but i will. Just not my scene, though that’s probably because i can’t dance and look terrible with my shirt off. When i was watching everyone dance–whether they were in the pool dancing, or by the lawn chairs dancing, or in the dancing section–i felt so envious of them. I bet that for them, at least in those moments, life must have seemed really light and simple; it wsa just about having fun in that moment, dancing to music, being young, doing the things and talking about the things that young people do. And somehow for me, things are so fraught things are so much more complicated, and even though i know that i;m capable of being like them, i don’t think ireally can anymore–because i really can’t go on more than ten minutes before i start remembering all the morbid thoughts that normally flow through my mind. I feel condemned, in some strange way–not to be able to care about the same things as others, not to be able to joyfully spend time in the same way as others, always, always, thinking about something, always having the sword hanging over my head.
Shuffle was a bit more of my scene–it was THe living Thin’s last show, and a bit bittersweet for the guys. I think one or several of them are leaving, going back to the US. Afterwards hung out with Brad, Aric, a British guy named Matt (writes for That’s) and Evans, the critic that hangs out and works for gigshanghai.com. It was fun, we were loitering outside the Kedi convenience store; Matt was interviewing Brad and Aric, and two random Finnish girls came up and started to talking to us. One of them got a bit friendly with Aric, and i think he went with them to some party. It was nice listening to them get so wound up about music and the local scene here, though i think that it made me realize that those aren’t the types of things that I really like to talk about. I was probably better off talking to Matt about films. I think i would be even better off talking about philosophy or something that i could really get into. That’s what little episodes like thisremind of –that i am still trying tofind what I am , trying tobe OK with what I am (this sounds very stuart smalley right now, I know), trying to realize that it really is different strokes for different folks. Somehow Ithink i will have to find the peopel that I can really converse with, the peopel that I can hang out with–and at that point won’t i have something to photograph too?
Talking to that British photographer made me realize–how to explain this? When she said taht she was into making pictures about migrant workers, it kind of turned me off–part of me is not and never will be completely satisfied with the way in which photography communicates information and feeling about the human condition. We’re just mostly on the outside documenting certain episodes in human life. And tehre is so much in the inner worlds, in our inner worlds that I reallycan’t do justice to in my photography. There are times when I get tired of making pcitures because i feel they ar etoo far from my heart. All this liberalguilt and conscience, all these ideals–why bother making pictures about pverty or migrant workers all the time–why not use what tie you have on earth to really uncover the world that you are organically part of?
