Post Halcyon II

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www.yingangphoto.com

Celebrating PDN style at the Annual Award Night. I also won a new Fuji Instax :)

Photographs by Adrienne Grunwald and… myself.

My latest project, “You Think You’re Safe Here”, featured on Dead Porcupine Mag…
Something that I’ve been working on for a while, about the place that shaped me into who I am as a person and the things that concern me;
Artificiality, marginalization, social constructs, suppressed violence and always being on the run…
Thanks to Francesco and Raffaele for the support :) View high resolution

My latest project, “You Think You’re Safe Here”, featured on Dead Porcupine Mag

Something that I’ve been working on for a while, about the place that shaped me into who I am as a person and the things that concern me;

Artificiality, marginalization, social constructs, suppressed violence and always being on the run…

Thanks to Francesco and Raffaele for the support :)

but I couldn’t and I didn’t and I don’t
believe in the clean break;

I believe in the compound fracture
served with a sauce of dirty regret,


~ From “Personal” by Tony Hoagland

Interviewed on WIRED Raw File as part of an article about the photo collective here:
7 Budding Collectives You Need To Know View high resolution

Interviewed on WIRED Raw File as part of an article about the photo collective here:

7 Budding Collectives You Need To Know

I want to know what your insides look like. What happens if you are incised, peeled apart slowly and turned inside out. Dark heart, white toothy grin. 

“Dark of the invisible moon. The nights now only slightly less black. By day the banished sun circles the earth like a grieving mother with a lamp.” ~ Cormac McCarthy

Street lights as protective sentinels.

I began to look at the things and places that we find necessary to protect from the night, a time of danger, the black arts, unidentifiable strangers waiting in the dark.

Is it you or is it that written somewhere in my astrology someone like you waits to rearrange the landscape of my life?

You feel like inevitability.

Compulsion

In the search for some kind of profundity and the culmination of the act of creation where everything makes sense, we begin to make sense to ourselves. And throughout the course of our lives, countless intrusions are flung at this process, a continuous contamination of insecurity, pride, money, poverty, feeling too close, feeling too far, naysayers, ass-lickers, a million excuses in every direction to stop listening to the heartbeat of the process and knowing what you have to do to keep it alive and to keep making sense. 
The challenge is to always listen and to act upon that little voice of creative compulsion… The voice that you recognize through the faint echo of something akin to hunger pangs. Create with courage or disappear in the well-rehearsed actions of the fearful.

You live as a fiction malformed in my mind. I think I know you from the meagre words you feed me. It’s enough to starve a woman. I need the nourishment of flesh and a heartbeat. Carnivore, they call me. All else is false.

Bring me life, uncontrollable, and I will show you a woman transformed by love. Present to me the red, wet wound of your mouth and I will swallow your words as pearls. 

Show yourself.

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