I must do more of these. I don't know why they are turning out so well now, but I am crazy for them. There is a quality somewhere between an autochrome and a wet plate, I think. Oh, my.
I haven't much to say today. I have worked and worried too much, am run down in every way both physically and mentally. That is what happens when you don't take a true vacation for years. Somewhere along the line I became either to lonesome or fearful perhaps. I stay within the confines of a very small radius. Part of it is money. I spend it on the studio and can't bring myself to give myself another luxury. Perhaps the studio is killing me. That and a complete lack of success in photography. I am beginning to see all of it as a huge and expensive waste of time. When I look at the images, I see genius or something akin to it, some sort of interesting talent at least. And there are a handful of people who like them, too. But out in the larger world. . . well, it hasn't been overwhelming. I shouldn't say that. I have been overwhelmed indeed, by the lack of excitement. I am undone by others success a bit. Ed Ross's work is everywhere and meets with much critical acclaim. Slava Pirsky's work, too.
Ah, well. . . enough pissing in my coffee. It is time to go to the factory where I am another inessential part in an everyday world. Existence precedes essence. Or so they say.
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