A managerie
More sophisticated than I imagined. At first appearance, the city is unkept and shabby. Hard to make generalizations about a place when I've been here for less than six hours. I had two children come up to me begging for money in the street. Dirty little urchins. While I feel for them and whatever circumstance leads to them asking for money on the street, I remember that pickpockets often use small children to distract the mark while the pickpocket plies his trade. I waved away one only to be pursued by the other, I waved him off to the laughter of the other boy. Obviously, there is some sport involved on their part. I always wonder if panhandlers achieve any kind of satisfaction from their 'work'. I hope never to be in that position. I think I show too much drive for to end up that way, but nothing is beyond imagination. 'Pride goes before a fall.' It's an old saying and it's in the back of my mind always.
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What causes memory? Dramatic moments? Some chemical that ocurred deep inside our brain? Often times smell or even sound can trigger memories from our past. For some, these memories can be horrific. Other times, we get pleasant sensations that go with a particular smell. I'm pretty sure I've written about this before, but can't recall where it went or why.
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I've often said I'd love to hook a recording device to my brain for two hours. 'I'd never have to work again.' I could spend the rest of my life selling the visions I have in those two hours. I wonder how they would differ if the scent in the room changed every minute? In reality, I would spend the rest of my life selling bits and piecesof those two hours to artisans and craftsmen and engineers to create my dreams. Perhaps this is what Philip Starck does. He sells his visions in near real time. He claims to hate everything he's created. Perhaps if he actually created his products with his own hands that thought would change. Then again. I doubt it would. He loaths his own work- how important is it to control that which you create?
Many famous photographers are known to rely on assistants to create the final prints from what the film captured. Does the assistant who did the production or the original visionary own the final product? I'm not talking about copyright or license, but in real terms, whose work is it? Many times, these assistants create superior prints to the original creator, but I got A's in photography in college for my eye, not my technical ability in a dark room. A friend of mine got C's and his prints were technically perfect. I always felt sorry that he didn't have the eye to take the right photos. I'm not bragging. It's not like I turned out to be a famous photographer or anything.
2 Comments:
Oh, you're in Magyarorszag. Lucky, lucky you! My girlfiend is Hungarian. She's a good Eastern Block girl! She belong to the Tractor Throw Team of 1974.
Ahhh, the Hungarian girls on Vatsi Utza. Beautiful, sexy women the Hungarians... Sorry, where was I.
Oh yeah, Have Fun!
Kind of scary when you realize that everything you have come in contact with is stored on a memory cell. Might be an eye-opening bitch if we could access the original, unedited files.
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