Looking glass


I’m a misanthrope. I’m a hermit. I think it’s finally starting to settle in. The insecure part of me perhaps relishes attention and praise, but it’s finally becoming clear how much more serene and fulfilling this outlet is when it’s carefully weened from the greater populace of people with whom interaction might occur.

I’m more content being hidden from view. Those worth collaborating with find me anyway. One more sieve to perhaps filter the gold flakes from so much running water.

Speaking of someone worth collaborating with…I can’t seem to run out of praise for this lady. Atilla is the zen buddha of models on the east coast. There is no forced attitude, no dressed up pretense, no mask of visual expectation…she doesn’t try and yet she nails it. It’s not even so much the matter of that she doesn’t need to try, or that it flows effortlessly from her…it’s that there’s no tense preoccupation with the need to try.

I had an interesting conversation with a good friend recently when it dawned on me how many artists of the past, moreso with the mediums of painting and poetry, never reaped the fruit of the notoriety. Their popularity emerged after their death. Those artistic extensions weren’t so manacled to the thirst for exposure…while so much of modern civilization now is wrapped up in this capitalistic desperation to be the next big thing.

Anyway…enough with my babbling. Pictures of Atilla are much more interesting visual distractions.

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