Levels of Life

"And the aerostatic photographs that exist are of only passable quality: we must imagine the excitement back into them. But they represent a moment when the world grew up. Or perhaps that is too melodramatic, and too hopeful. Perhaps the world progresses not by maturing, but by being in a permanent state of adolescence, of thrilled discovery."

- Julian Barnes

'You' by Carol Ann Duffy

 https://www.poetryarchive.org/poem/you

Ghost World

by Daniel Clowes

Florence Henri

https://www.icp.org/browse/archive/constituents/florence-henri?all/all/all/all/1

Colour faces, graphite faces

HALF WAY

I really enjoyed attending the screening of HALF WAY by Daisy-May Hudson on 28 May. The documentary, which chronicles the experience of the filmmaker's family becoming homeless and being failed by the council repeatedly is an important contribution to activism around homelessness in the UK. The film uncovers, represents and reflects on the ways in which any family could become homeless given unfortunate circumstances and seeks to disassociate homelessness with issues of substance abuse or mental health in order to communicate the detrimental effects of a prevalent 'hidden homelessness' in the Britain.

HALF WAY is a perfect implementation of the dogma "the personal is political" and raises important political issues through autobiography, self-documentary and confessional filmic strategies.

https://www.halfwayfilm.co.uk

20th Century Women

Yesterday, I watched the film 20th Century Women by Mike Mills, and thought it was poignant, apt, insightful and delightful. Two quotes that stayed with me from the film are:

"Having your heart broken is a tremendous way to learn about the world."

On punk music: "It's what happens when your passion is bigger than your tools to deal with it."

Ned

Love poem

We lay without pants 

on the unchartered tiles 

of the cold bathroom floor

where we kissed each other’s bodies:

there was so much affection between us. 

Having forgotten our friends 

just outside the door, 

as they danced and drank whiskey, 

we spent time

knowing, accepting, revelling

in how vulnerable we knew we were becoming, 

feeling somehow safe despite it 

in all the new. 

With each touch, 

we were learning and 

taking notes of the particularities 

of the other 

without realising. 

It was hard to kiss

and look at each other 

at the same time, and 

I wondered which I had to privilege. 

I tried to memorise your face

so that I could elicit it 

in moments apart. 

We knew the words 

for what was happening all weekend. 

Too soon to utter anything, 

we spooned, 

switching every so often 

to assure we were both held so close.