For some reason of course when I was draining the colour from these photos for no other reason than that I fancied it, I was reminded of some philosophical, personal concept. Because y'know, doing stuff makes me think about totally unrelated stuff, thanks to my brain and all its mysterious workings (not mysterious really, right now I'm thinking about Worcester Sauce).
So changing the colour and tone suddenly made me think about all the different perceptions of me that must exist and have existed. From strangers I pass on the street who just about notice me and then forget my existence a few minutes later, to everyone I've ever known closely. Every relative who remembers me having a tantrum at the Falkirk Wheel that one time (please, let's not talk about the Falkirk Wheel).
Everyone has this idea of me. A big blob of an idea or an intricate construction based on knowing lots of things. And then of course, there's my perception. Worn out and baggy in places, tight and knowing in others. Or something like that. But none of them, not even my one, are real. I'm real on my own, separate from them. It's kinda cool.
Also, check out these black and white self portraits I took on a Monday afternoon. I like that particular kind of clarity that black and white can bring. Nice.
Sometimes I get mad that strangers I pass on the street will assume that I am average and never know how interesting I actually am.
ReplyDeleteSometimes I get sad I don't know strangers. Like I'll be in a crowd of people or on a train and I'll wish I could just suddenly know everyone really well.
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