Capturing a Fantasy

Perhaps it’s just me but sometimes I find myself having what I can only describe as a black and white day.

A day when I am feeling overly dramatic and expressive as though I were trapped in a silent movie and my only means of communication was through whole body exuberance and total flamboyancy. On such occasions there are usually two possible emotions I may be experiencing, one- elation or two- melancholy. I decided long ago to allow myself these days, they mostly go unnoticed as out of the ordinary by any one other than myself anyway so what is the harm. This is due mainly to the fact that much of the drama exists within a detailed and elaborate monologue, something to behold be alas never on show.

The majority of the time when such a mood overcomes me, I find I end the day with a mini make over or my version of such which usually just involves a transformation via make-up to a more extreme version of myself or possibly more accurately, a closer external expression of my internal state at that point in time. As you can imagine this results in quite extreme creations scarcely seen by anyone save myself. The range of creation is as varied as my imagination is alive and can be inspired by close to anything from a passing thought to the colour of the sky.

Lately I have taken to documenting these metamorphic whims, photography being the means of completing the cathartic process undertaken at the end of a dramatic day. Black and white photos have an elegance about them in my mind anyway and no matter how I look a photo of this hue evokes a romanticism in my eyes and allows me to end the final scene of my pantomime day in a satisfied and contented mood.

Black and white does not hide our ‘flaws’ but rather highlights them. For example I have a competitively freckled complexion, an inescapable characteristic of my Irish roots. A collection of dots upon my skin that seems to be in constant search of their own limits, each day expanding and multiplying in the sun. I happen to love my uneven pigmentation, like the lack of order to my skin and compulsion it feels to be anything but busy. We are in a time of filters and perfection but in black and white even though at times it may give a haze or blur the majority of your use of this colour scheme is revelatory and enlightening. I like it because it is of the past, a time when photographs were a rare and labored over commodity. A portrait was a treasure, the price for mastery of a timeless art and not a representation of vanity.

Here are two very different examples of the kind of outcome I have created thus far. I feel like this practice will continue as I get such satisfaction from the indulgence and the appeasement of my longing to be a heroine in a film noir.

 

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