One who slips on a tite rope cannot take selfies at the end
Photography by Shayna Bruce.Poem by Gauri Dixit —
We were out of town but have finally had a chance to see Christopher’s work in Voices & Visions, the art and poetry collaboration sponsored by the Vancouver Community Library. Christopher sent “Allow Me My Unassailable Sincerity” to the program for an artists to render and received the image “Ocean,” to which he wrote a […]Visions & Voices/ Double Vision: Collaborative Exhibits Featuring Poems by Christopher Luna and Toni Lumbrazo Luna — PRINTED MATTER VANCOUVER
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This is a recording I did of me recording on a walkman as I was walking through southeast Portland late at night and then playing it through a bass amp with multiple effects pedals….
There is a lot to be said for learning photography in the digital age and one of the great advantages is that it costs nothing to take a bunch of extra shots.
In the days of film you would have been restricted in your output based upon your budget.
Film and processing costs quite literally forced photographers to get good fast, go broke or give up.
These days its a different story. Shooting a multitude of extra shots may very well get you the shot exactly how you want it but doing it mindlessly will teach you nothing.
So by all means take advantage of the freedom offered by digital photography but at the same time note what you are doing and note the different outcomes you are achieving as you do them to improve your skills.
there is a trepidation to confess my hurt when is it okay to shoot the moon who has emotional endurance with a flame detailed shame/ the fact a like structure of the syntax bleach on the issues of the plaster, to be or not to bleed out, there is so much blood in the pool draining from my counseled cervix/ I never wanted sexy to dress my life with its messy chance/ just to have it.
Must love be above my paying grade of class issued grit I wonder where ever my ruin cant help it/ circulated distribution of wrath/ adding up the consequences wasnt my day for the math, a victim of the mud/ down on my knees from falling in love again with same stranger my friends flew red flags above my moping head to warn but getting kicked while down keeps you staring down watching the blood drip onto the concrete pad outside, dressed in mad plaid/ down I stare down a winding road stair case/ bad taste I smell of worse suspicion when you yell