There’s something creepy and wonderful about Las Vegas. It’s cheesy, seedy, fake, and fascinating. It’s a sort of year ’round Carnival of total indulgence., complete with third rate acts and pot on the streets. I’d like to go back and spend a month or so photographing all of it.
I was determined to get photos, even though the rain wouldn’t stop, and I had to hike along the Strip nursing a broken hip. But the results were worth it.
Late afternoon in a new housing development. My reflection in the van, and my dirt-distorted shadow. Everything’s warm and glowing. I am absolutely NOT religious, nor spiritual, new-age, alien ancestors, or any of that silliness. So the image is exactly appropriate.. the carpet over the dirt tells you everything you need to know.
About 2 years ago I, with a lot of help from my much-more-competent wife, made a vector drawing of Michelangelo’s God from the Sistine Chapel. I sent the drawing to DC and got a copyright for it. Obviously it isn’t the original Michelangelo image, but the outline is immediately recognizable. It’s fun to play with. I’m thinking about doing a series of pieces based on my copyrighted version.
Sitting at the desk, so I made the screen black and picked up a little camera. I look good in purple.
I’m usually unsure of new pieces. At first I think, “what the fuck?” Then I stare at it a while longer, let my eye flow over the colors and shapes, wonder at possible meanings. Like, why did I put a ceiling fan over that guy’s face? I suppose because his lose of identity is my gain. After all, he’s pretty buff in a feminized way, and I’ve never been even close to buff. I go to the gym simply to slightly slow the hands of time, but not actually expecting to improve anything.