Like most places, find the right time of day and it doesn’t matter what kind of camera you have (dunno) because the light does so much for you. It’s obvious, but that’s my interest. Time of day. Time of year. When a hamburger joint and a seagull become almost cinematic. Life. Ordinary. An artist that I like came through me last night and I thought, let me go through my photos with him in mind. What would he tell me is strictly an image that might have something to it?
So I started looking at my photographs like that. I was speaking with a friend the other day who expressed her frustration: people on Instagram just want to see a photograph of you. That’s fine but I’ve also been looking around at other accounts, it depends. It’s a visual platform though I was listening to a woman with a million followers describe it as a video platform since TikTok has evidently, as a mini-TV channel, affected social media output.
I am trying to more connect with what I want to put out there. That makes it easier. I don’t really use Tumblr. There are many platforms. I thought, when someone goes to someone’s page, do they typically scroll through the whole thing? Well, I suppose if you find them attractive? Or, they are known for style or something that might propel you keep looking at their photographs. I was trying to think more in that direction, especially since…
I went on a walk this morning, a long one, and what the hell do I want to wear?
I found a SPORTS QUEBEC HEALTHY sweatshirt and I was about to buy it for my TikTok but I thought, okay, let me just slow down because I ain’t wearing this outside of three TikTok videos. But Istanbul is full of sports attire. I have taken photos of some of the designer clothes…lol…that made me laugh. I’ll post some of that, too, as I’m figuring out my style. Fashion was my mother’s thing…and as a character, a villain, her haute couture or her understanding of costume, her body, type of deal, I know, makes her appealing in a sense. It’s smart. With the red wigs on top of it. Her business suits, only Krizia, she was strict, smiling in the limo.
IRS—STEP ON IT.
I don’t know what the reaction is, right, because in my experience, it was laughter, but then, sometimes you might not want to laugh. It depends. But that, Jack in Box, POP, you crack up. Dr. J. That’s her real nickname.
At four, since I was thinking about this at the time, all of this, I had no problem with someone eccentric, theatrical, even glamorous, since that’s what she seemed to…I mean, the white mink coat. The white mink coat. Sexy, too, though that’s a whole other ballgame. Not easy to take in.
In my father’s words, and my understanding at four, somehow, “she slept with her clients…” in her office. Taking her lovers upstairs. That was her.
I had to start over in terms of my attire. I had a tiny storage space. I didn’t have much money. I was never really a possessions person. Clothes became my thing. That royally freaked me out. I wasn’t all that put together, either. Basically speaking. That was step one for me. Like, my nails. Like, socks. Like, I hardly owned an item of jewelry though my friends kept giving me jewelry in the last couple of years, but dunno if it was my thing at all. That style. I had the opportunity, let’s say, to clear house.
I wanted to have fun, but then, to the credit of my friend, he became my go-to, since I found him to be very talented, but I’ve taken some time to just figure out if I can play around again. The idea that this was what made me interesting or attractive or something…I wanted to brush that aside. Also, how do I want to present myself to the world? I say that for many reasons.
I never, ever, hardly posted a photo of any of these outfits. I didn’t feel comfortable or, it wasn’t my objective to be proud of myself in this way. Now, it’s a different story. But I might be simpler in my approach.
There are very glamorous and chic women out there who do all sorts of philanthropic work. For me, when I think about being a success, that’s built into the idea.
So an outfit came to mind on my way back after seeing these strawberry clogs, I was like, wow, on Instagram, maybe that was a while ago. Just because fashion can be funny. I found a jean bomber jacket with dark khaki sleeves and striped cuffs. It’s a baggier fit, sort of sport, but I had no idea what to do with it because there’s no body. But I liked the idea of it because it wasn’t something I could find anywhere else. 35 bucks.
Then I thought, okay, a picture is coming to mind. If I could find a cheap peasant skirt, white, or maybe those silver jeans, maybe, a touch glam and get those bejeweled Birkenstock-looking sandals, or heels, that might look good. There are a couple of looks I can try.
Truly speaking Istanbul is very inexpensive. I can’t speak to whether or not this outfit would look good on the street but it might. I’m trying to think of portraits. I have to find the rest this weekend. Something about connecting with mother. I’m starting in my neighborhood. What do I want to wear? That’s been fun.
I got some pictures lined up for my Instagram just to get that ball rolling…I love Angela’s house with the glass facade, I think some of those pictures are quite good actually, the way that the outside garden is reflected into the interior space…there’s something to it, and that’s a project I could do with a real camera…reproduce it, basically.
I started to think just more artistically about my images…even myself…so that’s where I’m at.
I don’t have to exclusively be a writer, and I hoped that I would get in touch with my gifts and be able to explore what those are.
The thing is, it feels sort of strange taking a portrait of myself in a mosque except there’s nothing strange about it. It’s a social space as well as a one designed for prayer. Some might be more designed to accommodate these two functions, but it’s true. Who isn’t snapping photos in the Hagia Sophia? But some of these mosques are totally empty. There’s one that brought a outfit idea to mind or resonating like that.I might continue thinking about that.
I imagine it’s like anything else, you might go, what make a good image in this space? Do you want contrast, do you want to blend in, are you one with?
So that’s Angela’s character, for example.
She inspired a great beauty.
Not like she isn’t one but that idea.
Which to me extends to an artistic eye, as well.
The garden, the fresh produce around her, the piles of broccolini, and even Angela’s empathic nature.
Who knows, I have to finish the book, but Angela became a character that took a life of its own, I thought about Malena, the young boy who watches her from afar, and my own problems or interests in beauty. What beauty is…Angela, the real character, really saw me for mine and that was very healing.
She has a personality profile that lent itself well to meditating on that. Especially because of the relationship we can have to beauty or even something we desire. From what I hear, someone who is seen as beautiful can experience some backlash or there’s sort of a dark side…and sometimes, it’s interesting who doesn’t even see their own beauty, attractiveness.
I always frame a painting around her. I thought that was fun. And that’s how I began seeing her, since her empathic quality does that, or does that on the page. Someone who makes a room start to resonate, even without a face, that’s what I mean, in some, becoming almost one, blending in. I had fun there…just meditating on beauty, artistry, someone like that. Who appreciated my eye. She loved my pictures of her house. Stuff like that.
As a character, she sort of followed me on that point that I didn’t really want to think about…which was my wounding around beauty itself.
I thought that might be a place where that character could support me toward the end, too, since Angela remarked that my mother was very beautiful. Stylish. It’s amazing how stories have an innate intelligence.
The only nice adjectives — and they were not nice — I heard about Dr. J were about her looks and body.
I liked that perspective on beauty that draws a feeling in a room, even inspires me to begin looking at composition. Stuff like that.
I felt her the second I stepped onto her property, really. And I spent that first Christmas being in her energy—I tended to study people, family, in particular, it’s a young thing. I took it as an invitation that I was cautious about since she’s really an empath.
She’s an intimate person, a true friend, I think, in that, she values intimate exchanges…she’s going to write me a message that she greatly appreciated the time we spent, having conversations that I might have been nervous about. And at times, I really needed to hear that.
I started wearing tank tops around Angela, not always, but I started feeling more at ease around her. They don’t understand what I did but she was safe. I would always cover myself at the table…but I worked on healing a specific aspect of myself with her. I went through my…not wearing make-up, I’m wearing sweats for the Naples Christmas vibe and I needed to just be a moment.
I tried to go in a sports direction, just playing around, since clothes are part of the aesthetic.
I tried some suits. I like suits. Not sure if I have totally achieved the look, but that was the idea.
I don’t think one wants to see anyone in that dark of a space—my mother, and again, Angela kept mentioning that she was beautiful, and I saw it as part of the problem. Coming from Angela, a woman, even, she made that a point.
My mother, at that time, was wild. An exhibitionist, even, of some kind. Based on what my father wrote in his divorce file…she was engaging in prostitution? Looking for sex downtown. Loose.
Maybe she was taken advantage of as a child, or I don’t know with her, so that was a harsh veneer. If you met her, saw her back then, you’d understand what I mean. Like what is that? Do people even understand what makes them beautiful? That was my question. I pulled some funny moves as a kid.
I had no idea about what to say about the world’s relationship to beauty, either, which depends, it’s just I’ve heard enough from beautiful women that there’s more than meets than eye…or there’s sometimes a lot that comes with it.
In Dr. J’s case, I don’t know what to say. She just seemed wounded quite young. Then flew off. I mean, there are people who have sexual problems. She had them. You can’t really talk about Dr. J without mentioning that. And when it comes to health, I’ve even heard doctors encourage their patients to be open about their sexual health.
Beauty doesn’t necessarily mean sex. That’s not what I mean. But with Dr. J, I’m just saying, she was attractive, notably, she had a “sexy body,” that’s what I heard, and she seemed to have problems that I thought might have stemmed from her childhood or something.
The other day? I got confused by this man’s way of courting me…something to snip up, just get over it. I thought, there is no way this person is seriously hitting on me like this. But he kept saying “you’re attractive” as if that meant something. As if that meant I owed him something. Oh, you’re attractive, though, so…? He looked confused.
And then, a week later, he ended up asking me out on a date…”I’m asking this time.” Right, because he didn’t ask me on a date, do you know what I mean? “He didn’t want to let me go.” That kind of thing. I tried to express my confusion or, I just never took myself to be a great beauty, per se, that wasn’t my governing operation. I enjoyed seeing the beauty in others. Having fun with myself. Another reason why I dumped the clothes. Start fresh.
“Poor thing, you’re so beautiful,” he said to me. “Uh…” is he serious? And he insisted he was right in a tone that felt belittling. So, I had no idea what to say about that. A therapist even projected onto me that I was always beautiful. I don’t know that. And pity, pathetic, that’s what my mother was called. I didn’t understand that “oh poor you…” whatever, problem solved.
It’s not to make that the focus because I didn’t even really understand it, I’m just riffing today, but I feel much better about being who I am.. I don’t know what that means in terms of my beauty but being me, expressing myself. Venus, that planet, which is in Scorpio, and I feel it, an astrologer really understood me. Yeah, nothing but sympathy. It’s beauty, but if you think about what that symbols, it extends beyond one’s appearance, or one’s beauty.
Now, I can take pictures of my outfits, maybe, and put videos of myself up, and show myself like that. I wanted to do that. That’s what I wanted. If that also means I’m in a space of aesthetics, style, and figuring out my eye…I’m enjoying developing that. Looking at my pictures. Thinking less, even, like oh I gotta put a bunch of pictures of myself online and thinking, oh, maybe I enjoy taking pictures. Maybe I’ll try sharing those. So I appreciated this artist coming to mind…and going through my photographs from that perspective.
Fashion portraits. Getting in touch with my mother. The omni-absence of her. There was even something spiritual about it. I can explore that. Go into a mosque. How “other.”
I don’t know what people think 37 means. But for me, it’s like I just got here, like I have my whole life ahead of me, like I’ve only just begun. It’s so invigorating to feel that way. I can do anything now.
And that just comes from settling my childhood.
Anyway, I’m going to be moving into Santa Lucia and onwards…so into Angela’s section. Maybe I’ll use some of this, I wanted to treat that section in its own way…so maybe I’ll have to find another reference…
Now, it will make sense why I was asking so many questions about the plants and vegetation and with my fingers pinched, just wait a second before you come down with some talk about botany but it was funny in retrospect. I got a booklet on what grows in that region, but I’ll have to look around, but I love that there’s Naples, there’s Ottaviano (volcano, right there), and there’s the Sorrento Coast, the farm, that there’s a return to nature element to it…since all the food comes from Vico’s farm, that’s it.
People working fresh produce at Christmas, how often do you see that? I love that. Abundance. That’s a basic idea and what Vico and Angela represent. They, Vico especially, know what grows there…they know the names of plants…and they know, on top of it, that people don’t. Agriculture and belonging. I recorded that conversation. My Italian continues to be hilarious but I remained in that space a little for my book but agriculture usually involves technical language so it’s easier for me to understand.
Here comes Mario Talarico, my friend, also in the book, of course, to support me. We will have a conversation about his idea for a school, his point of view with espresso about the youth losing touch with basic arts, electricity, carpentry, artisan values. Isn’t that great? Roots.
I figure once it’s sold, I can refine all that, go check out more local produce. Some of their produce is protected by law. Does that exist in the US? Produce that is so fundamentally important to their cuisine and culture that you cannot touch that pepper, you cannot touch it.
That’s all beauty. Nature. Artistry.
That’s the Sorrento Coast…
Now that I’m out of the ring with Franco and Flora and they really went through the chaos with me.
It’s just different perspectives.
Thanks for reading!