Just saw I saw the TV glow. It captures the constant dull hum of suburban malaise. Of yearning and isolation. Not feeling seen and so searching for yourself. I need to watch again. Loved it!
Have been thinking about Backrooms for days. Immediately thought of Cornelia Parkerβs works. Then, Arthur Miller and Death of Salesman. Falling Down. Baudrillard. Some of it felt reminiscent of footage from Arab Springs, which is somewhat of an anachronism but all relative.
My Fatherβs Shadow is so special. So tender and quiet that you have to really listen. How we love people because of and/or despite their humanity. How sometimes we donβt recognise it as such until we are forced to reorganise it. How complex we are. So many moments.
It was $1.5 to the Β£, LA was 4 years into a drought. I was falling in love and excited about a future I couldnβt quite comprehend yet. Alongside a quiet grief, I knew the comfort of the life I had left behind would cease. An epoch. Kelela my good Gemini sis.
This is synonymous with my first extended stay in LA. Living on Venice Beach, I would start the car on 18th & Pacific and that opening bass to The High would play⦠vivid memories.