When I was a student I often drew self-portraits to practice and improve my skill. As I sat on my futon, for the first time in awhile without any immediate deadlines hanging over me, I decided that night to pick up the closest sketchbook and start. Despite my intention to focus only on technique and outer appearance, I rediscovered that self-portraiture inevitably turns into a view on your own psyche, the idea of how you see yourself and your position in the world.
Drawing this time, I also became aware of a slightly disingenuous aspect of self-portraiture - I learned that they are as much about self-projection as they are about capturing any kind of view of oneself.
"I'm from Libya," he said. I don't know what to say. It's as if he'd told me he'd just come from his father's funeral.
The first specialty coffee shop in Ikebukuro and Junkudo (bookstore) resonate.
Editing is interpreting.
The Riddle of Steel.
The man stands motionless in a crush of white-shirted salarymen, as they swarm past him, toward the single escalator.
Rêve de centre commercial-piscine
Sparrow Noise
Birthday walk home
"Dear Cigarettes"