HD Nat Geo Comp Frames from last summer

View from my window #2

Joseph K. Garrahan

My very talented friend Joseph Garrahan made this for an exhibit. You can find more about him and his work here.

Yasenevo - NYC

I had a dream I was in a severe mental breakdown and my parents had to drive me wrapped in a thick heavy blanket to a psychiatrist. He was old and very fat.

Emancipation

Hand drawn...



Inspired by Giovanni Lorenzo Bernini, Ecstasy of St Theresa, 1652

Summer Showers

It was a warm humid summer day, he was sitting at a plastic white table brought outside on the patio overlooking a narrow winding road, a strange place to have a patio especially with the neighbors houses so close by. If one of the inauspicious souls occupying those depressing homes were to look through their stained windows, they would see a party of several adults and two young teenage girls drinking Merlot out of big jugs perhaps even boxed wine and grilling on a red portable grill. It was a casual affair, a birthday celebration for a teenage girl who was turning 16. Sweet sixteenth, but this event was used more for parents to get together with their friends rather than provide the girl with a memorable party among her friends.

He was obligated to go, his parents were the girl's parents' friends. Also he felt slightly regretful of his original approach, he mistreated her, not realizing he would be working for her father. Chris decided the best strategy was to be cordial, polite and not let himself be enticed by her youth and innocent flirtation.

It was the usual festival of mindless chatter, sharing stories and anecdotes. Once the conversation turned to work, the girls were seemingly bored. They drank a bit more wine perhaps hoping their situation would improve but ultimately they left the table and went in to the house. Chris suddenly felt restless and lethargic. He could go on talking about his latest HP instruments not running properly or discuss his ongoing analysis but feeling bored he excused himself and proceed to go in to the house.

It was a dark interior and his eyes had to adjust for a second to the surroundings. Fake wood paneling, with low brown ceiling beams added to the feeling of melancholy. Small windows let in strands of light lost in the thick threads of beige carpet. Chris felt all the pieces of the interior imposing on his perception. He wanted to escape the stale smells and 60's decor, back in to the sunlight and warmth. Looking around for any sight of the girls, he sensed a strong urge for a cigarette. He quickly made his way through the house and on to the backyard where the white plastic chairs and tables should of been.

The sunlight quickly disappeared into thick grey clouds, and the nature smells became more pronounced. It was very calm and his desire for a cigarette might have subsided if he felt at ease. But the feeling of anxiousness was still with him, it did not stay in the house when he left, it followed him outside and now he was standing on the moist grass feeling the thunder and lightning warning him of an oncoming storm. He lit his cigarette.

After taking a drag, he finally saw them. Standing in front of him, she was wearing what he thought to be almost a nightgown, it barely covered her. The dress was short, synthetic and brown. Her glowing tan skin acquired from lazy summer days on New River beaches in ancient mountains of Virginia made her seem less childlike. She had model legs, tall and slender and surprisingly small feet for someone so tall. Probably her best feature he thought. He noticed the girls were barefoot, something he avoided himself as he hated the prickly pinching sensation of the sand, grass, rocks against the bottom of his feet.

Chris suddenly noticed music coming from an ancient tape boom-box. He was preoccupied with his examination of the scene in front of him, failing to notice the thumbing electronic noise emitting from cheap speakers. He was not the biggest fan of music, one would not call upon him to recall an old Beatles song or the latest Radiohead song on the radio. He endured it but preferred the quiet.

As he stood there, leaning against concrete wall under an overhang he thought would protect him in the likely chance of rain, the girls ran after each other with intermittent hug exchange borderline wrestling. He began to feel relaxed, his cigarette almost burnt out he flick it in to the wet grass watching the orange glow slowly growing dim in the jungle of greenery. The final blow to orange a huge drop of water precisely hitting it followed by immediate explosion. Chris felt slight amazement at the precision of the drop, it was as if something bad, contaminated was targeted for ultimate termination, its life taken away for being a danger to society. Decease...

The moment the first drop hit that cigarette, millions more followed, each one hitting the ground with the force of a shower jet. The girls were in the middle of green patch when the rain started. It did not phase them, with greater enthusiasm they carried on their dance. Their clothes quickly drenched changing color of the fabric. The synthetic brown now glued to her skin, outline her undergarments. Through the wall of rain they became shapes, visible only when the light peering through the clouds illuminated their path. Everything slowed down like the slow motion effect used so often in the movies. He felt lighter and a wave of calm took over his being. He felt the glow of youth and carelessness fill the scene, so powerful, it was permeating everything around. Not that he was old, he was 27 and at a stage in his life where PhD program and full time job occupied his mind over relationships and mindless entertainment. Yet this moment felt unique for reason he did not care to understand because it required him toanalyze his intention and sentiment.

She was spinning faster as if trying to dry herself off and it might of worked if not for the heavy rain. She started to slow down, trying desperately to find her balance. The ground gave way and she tumbled down toward neighbors backyard, a pile of lumber caught her half way. Craving another cigarette, he did not move from the spot where he threw out his last one. Chris felt if he moved, he will no longer be an observer but an active participant. He saw the red starting to crawl down her bare leg, it split in to two streams in parts mixing with water where the red became dull. The rain was not strong enough to wash it away as it has done to the orange. The heavy liquid grabbed tightly to the surface proclaiming its control over silky complexion. He watched closely as the lines turned and twisted becoming intricate webs of red, painting a post modern picture. The golden glow turned to pale white, perhaps by contrast to bright reds and greens the skin became lighter. He took out another cigarette.