Ha!
Now I'm pondering photography. I can't believe how little I've ever thought about it. Of all the fine arts, it is the one to which I have given the least conscious attention--I mean, besides looking at it raptly.
Now I am eager to look again at Nan Goldin, Jo Spence, and the many other photographers who put themselves in the picture. (Funny, the ones I can think of are all women. There must be men too...? Can you think of any?)
[Lists, from a 1959 Diane Arbus notebook]Because this is freakier and harder than I'd expected, this taking photos of myself. I've rarely used my camera for anything besides snapshots, and this project calls for a level of intentionality I've never risen to before.
Plus, I've already learned how much or how little I can bear to expose myself in words, but this new level and new kind of exposure is somewhat nerve wracking. Even in silly ways, like, look: I skipped scrubbing the bases of the bathroom taps, and now you all know!
