Today was Drej’s "Pojasni mi ljubezen" book launch press conference, to which she took me along to take photies. I was glad to go, as I expected Ljubljana to be full of masks and I wanted to see if I got anywhere near the photo exhibition that I contested in. Well, no. Of course not. And the part that nearly brought me to tears is what kind of godawful crap actually DID get exhibited as the selected best. I can understand I am not good enough, or that my photos are too shiny (I sent some of the winter wonderland), but Jesus Fuck Mary and Joseph, are you fucking kidding me? The top three, okay, perhaps not the most original work, but they were still admirable, but the rest? The least of some friggn’ original, interesting memorable examples – same crap that ALWAYS comes to the top. Naked chicks in the forest (nothing original, just a naked chick standing in a pretty forest). Dirty gypsy kids. Skinny black kids. Abandoned houses interior. Some mossy tree near a concrete all. Pebbles and pavement on the ground. Plastic egg on a plate and ugly sofas in an ugly room. For the love of…. ?! Those kind of dull, dim super ugly geometric pics and ‘poverty’ shots weren’t interesting even in the seventies, when everyone was taking them, yet alone now… It’s clear nobody considers fashion to be a high form of photographic art, or portrait for that matter (Unless it’s the same old poor people as always, possibly illiterate, from some mountains), but I have seen some SUCH amazing (new) examples lately, following fashion photographers, or animal photographers for that matter… Like I said, this incredible garbage brought me near to tears. And as Drej put it, until I take photos of dog shit or dog licking her cunt or road kill dog rotting, I will not be a good photographer. .. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
On to the press conference, which was the opposite – it was bright, homey, lovely and friendly, in a such pretty ‘reading house’ place I couldn’t believe such amazing sports existed (And I want one!). there were also illustrations exhibited of some mesmerizing author, someone I was not yet familiar with and it was a female and she also did puppets (marionettes.) That brought back the sunshine.
Then we had drinks in a pub with some other authors, which was the sort of a circumstance where I play the weird cousin and stay completely and utterly quiet, looking around the room at the interesting décor and take shots. (Photographic kind, not vodka.) The ride back with a train was sunny, warm and chatty, which was kind of wonderful and after all is said and done, I do love Drej’s reasoning when she aims to make me feel better: high literature and pulp fiction can never really cross. I am not going to win any awards any time soon, but having to hold your new book in your hands just makes your whole day.
And for some reason Somebody That I Used To Know kept playing in my head the whole time and the singer kind of reminds me of Michael Fassbender and I conjured a scene in a story, in which every thinker any time always considers the past and future to be like an hourglass and all past always seems primitive and all future always seems amazing…
The conference starting...
Cushiest book place I've seen in a while...
Kind of awesome new illustrator I've discovered...
And the Trubar hologram in the hall :)
The post-press thngie drinks and debate...
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