I cut out my face

So we got home from dinner last night and I was just thinking about defacing the polaroids (which andrew hates! . . ."Why are you taking your face out? I don't like that. Not at ALL!" . . .it's sweet) and then I saw the scissors innocently sitting on the dining room table (which has served for the last month as a polaroid staging area). I found a photo from the "stack of photos where I hate my face" (it's a big stack) and started cutting. Half way through I realized my face was kind of heart shape so I just went for it. When I was done I ran into Andrew's office, "I have a present for you!" and handed him a little heart with my face on it. He absolutely loved it and set it on his monitor so he could see it all of the time. Now we were both happy. I lost a face and he gained one. - - the first of many, I presume. Then I slept on it. I woke up this morning and thought it could be interesting to play around with what is going on in my head (or in this case what was going on - - the text is a direct quote from the first love letter I ever wrote Andrew). I'll let you know how it goes. I will say that I never thought defacing myself could be this much fun, and so very liberating.

Defaced with Braids

Removing my face from my self portraits is the most liberating thing I've done in a long time (Andrew still doesn't like it). It doesn't always have to be a Sharpie, right? Part of this ongoing series, oh and this one, too.

i heart you

thank you for all of your kind and encouraging words about the book. we are all so very excited about it. pre order your copy today.

i took this photo in paris, i think it was a couple walking through pere lachaise. like this, but they were a lot closer. sometimes they just turn out white. i don't know why. just a random thing. i still refuse to throw them away. i usually just write on the back what the photo was actually of so that i can remember. i have a photographic memory, so that helps.

I lost my sharpie.

So I had to make do with some thread.

And then I found my sharpie. After I pricked my finger a sufficient amount of times.

Titles (in case you were wondering)

l) thisshouldshutherup
r) itneededaspoon

Defaced

It started very innocently. I was just trying to take a self portrait, and when I saw what my face looked like I said to myself (out loud) "I don't like my face today." So I grabbed a sharpie and scribbled it out. "There, much better. Hmmmmm. This feels kind of good." Ok, let me stop you right there. I don't hate myself, or my face for that matter, I just didn't like it yesterday. It happens, right? Then I remembered that I had another photo of myself where I didn't like the way my mouth looked, so I scribbled on that one, too. And then it hit me. Finally, something to do with all those "reject" polaroids I've been holding onto for years. The ones that got jammed in the camera, or yellowed in certain places, or the ones where I just didn't like my face. So I dug them up and just started writing the first thing that came to my mind. As if I was explaining the photo to someone else. Well, I couldn't stop. I even dipped into a couple of non-rejects. And, since I wasn't liking my face, I took some more self portraits and scribbled on them. Defacing is fun, and it brings some emotion to photos that weren't very, well, emotional. I hope you like what I have done so far.

When Andrew came home last night and saw what I was doing he said,
"Why did you draw all over your face?"
I said,
"I didn't like, uh, you wouldn't understand."
He probably would understand, but I think he likes my face everyday (as husbands should), so maybe he wouldn't.

My friend Chris emailed me. I think he thought I might be suicidal because of how blue I have been feeling. I told him that wasn't the case, I was just inspired. He's a good friend.

You can decide for yourself.









There are more here. And there will be more after that. I can't stop. Really, I can't. I'll keep you posted.