Speaking of spying...if anyone asks, you didn't see me here. I'm supposed to be writing. Writing a TV pitch, not a blog post.
I was trying to figure out what to post today, wishing I was home so I could go through some unknown negatives. Since I'm still out of town, hitting the external hard drive was the next best thing. Inside my EISID folder is a Concert Photography folder. Pictures I've scanned of musicians that were not in my book. Mostly stuff I've already posted here.
But one folder I spied in there is called Personal Stuff. I figured there had to be something I could use for a post. There was only one file. A contact sheet that I had scanned on June 2, 2006. Probably checking for musician photos for the book. There weren't any. Just some personal pictures that I had to have taken during my last week or two in Vancouver. Right before I moved to L.A.
I figured that out because of this picture...
I had my car packed up and I was about to hit the road about six weeks before I actually left Vancouver. I had met up with some friends (and my mother) for lunch on the day I had planned to leave. Halfway through my meal I chucked my food. By the time I got to my car I was feeling even worse and my mother convinced me to stick around until I felt better. Within two days (the most miserable two days of my life where I actually my roommate to get me a gun so I could shoot myself) I was in the hospital with a severe case of spinal meningitis.
Back to why I know the pics on the contact sheet are from then...the guy in the picture was one of my nurses during my ten day stay at the hospital. And he was kind enough to help me recuperate once I was released. And I am not kind enough to remember his name.
Anyway, all that has nothing to do with this post. Except the part about not seeing me here. Because I'm not really here. I put this post together three months ago and scheduled for today, knowing that this is the day I would be writing the pitch and would need something to magically appear. Got it? Okay, back to the real post...
So, when I was looking at the contact sheet tonight I became mesmerized with all these eye pictures. I remember taking them but for some reason, when I looked at them tonight I couldn't figure out whose eyes they were. Or how many different eyes there were. If the eyes are the windows to the soul why couldn't I figure them out? We should be able to recognize our own eyes, our friend's eyes, our family member's eyes...shouldn't we? Even when it's just a shot of the eye without the rest of the face?
Check these out. How many different eyes do you think there are?
As far as a photographic critique, I like 2, 3, 4 and 6.
I think the first five all belong to my friend and roommate at the time, Bonnie. We lost touch forever ago. She was/is an amazing artist and there have been many times since the birth of the internet that I have tried to find her...with no luck. I just googled her again and I think I may have hit paydirt. I'm going to send an email and see if it's her.
And after staring at those last two photos for about 30 minutes, I think they could be mine. Although I'm still not convinced. That's really creepy. I can't recognize my own soul.