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❚ Japanese ❚ island ❚ aging ❚ photography ❚ diaries

senex mirorless camera

I made a bunch of pictures with Stu by a private pool this morning. I liked many of them, although it appears as a cheap erotica to me, and not that much creative, without the obscurity of low light. It is fairly easy to make a professional-looking image of a naked woman when you use a Japanese camera, lensed with a glass size of a melon. I congratulate myself that I stop with fruit metaphors here. I may have also damaged Fuji by shooting in the rain, or simply one of the batteries seized to exist. 

Stu took my shots later, in the afternoon. While I felt engaged and playful at that moment — even moderately aroused so — the full moon was already getting into me. I didn’t like the result, which is not surprising. It revelaed how much weight I had gained — after drinking too many glasses of wine, and not moving enough — and how old I had become in just one year. The camera makes me look heavy and grumpy, which is a fair portrayal because that’s how I feel — like a character in Hayao Miyazaki’s fantasy. A spiritual “dark matter” or worldly junk entered my body, and I carried it inside and “away”.  I brought it to the island — Bali did what Bali always does — It germinated the seed, and it is sprouting up all over.

I miss my lightness, both in the sense of being full of light and not being heavy. It is natural to me — meaning “it suits me” — but filmically, it was rather hard to maintain, especially when I had to maintain others. I used to figure it out in a straight-forward equation — blaming the “others” for road-blocking me in my dreaming. Now I’m at the point in my life where I can no longer see “one self” without being of service to many. 

Having your pictures taken is one of the best ways I’ve learned to introspect radically. Unlike private journaling, It is much more demanding of the setting, the space, and the observer with the camera. The number of ‘the’ to affect the process and deviate from the result. Today, I am reminded of the obvious: I need to better at steering my vessel, no matter the excuses of the material and mundane. But there is another notion — that I have aged, and that my body is permanently changing. Something that would have been hard for me to accept four years earlier, in L.A. “Senex” always represented a part of me, and now I feel kinky about becoming a “dirty old man”.