Stream of Consciousness Response to Man Ray

I recognize your name. The transformation from your given name to the amalgamation you took on reminded me of the Biblical stories of many characters that after divine transformation took on new roles and were given new names. Will I too take on a new name, or have I already begun my new role and am carrying a name I don’t recognize?

Your transformation seemed slow and thoughtful, but maybe in your heart it was drastic and so it was worthy of a new identity. Did people respect it? Did new customers and celebrities call you by one or both names? Did they piss you off while they were in front of the camera? Did you feel like their puppet servicing them? Or was it more of a power play on your behalf, did you hold their vanity within your lens. Did it hurt to let go of the paint, and move forward with technology? It looked like it. It almost seemed like an epic story of loss, your documentary.

The black and white definitely nudged it more into that direction. To me it feels like acute torture to be in a constant state of pondering the great and the small. It’s like trying to look at your feet while you walk, while at the same time keeping track of what’s coming around the corner, or what you must look like from an aerial perspective at the moment. You seemed to do it just fine. Study the minute details of objects and their existence in space while also pondering how they fit within greater schemes. But maybe it’s all

The same thing.

Isn’t that what most contemporary artist do these days anyway. Study greater ideas through the creation of objects. Is that what you did? Is that what I want to do? Doesn’t that make every piece an exercise? I’ve heard it again and again lately that calling things ‘Projects’ or ‘Experiments’ is a good idea, because the label allows you to fail and therefore the freedom to act. But is that really just an excuse for it to be less than what it could be. Probably, but what’s the likelihood of one actually doing said project if you ‘had’ to follow all the requirements you would probably set out for yourself.

Is being prolific the genius achievement of somebody that manages to achieve BOTH quality and quantity, or is the term prolific too, subjective. I think so. The camera has all the qualities that would allow to be prolific, but still and artist can stop all creation by a simple thought of fear. You only made 12 shots on your contact sheets. I like that. Is that lazy? I don’t think so. I’m not a fan of repetition, maybe it’s the rebellious and stubborn child in me. It drives me crazy. I think that’s pretty sound. 300 shots in one shoot seems ridiculous and boring. I would rather do 300 shoots for 12 good shots.

Pleasure seemed like a huge motivator for you. Is that what made it fun? What kept you coming back to the camera, and away from the paint? I could definitely see that.

When you paint and shoot, you can begin to compete with the camera. You seemed to eventually address it as part of your painting process, leading towards what would eventually happen. Did you think that painting would die? I would have probably thought so too. I don’t fully understand why it hasn’t already either.