Spent the better part of today making the freelance cash money photographing kids at camp, the camp of lushest green and rimmed with pine forest in a valley. Translation: no cell phone service all day. Chatted illegally on the cell to a NYC pal in a monsoon, ironically after describing how the pre-torrent landscape to my right just off the bi-way resembled Japan rice paddies - tiered and foggy and unbelievably green.
Camp. Teenaged drama. Preteened levelheadedness. Had lunch amid a table full of 11 year olds, rather than the table of grownups. They came to fetch me midway to rescue me from the 11 year olds and I looked up from a conversation about the structure by age, the benefits of peanut butter, the benefits of spreading peanut butter on Fudgicles and the like, and said I'm fine here.
The kids were mainly camera-savvy. Everyone knows how to perform these days, not only for cameras but for each other. Everyone can bust a VH1-perfect move.
Received complimentary art-related email from Ollivier Dyens, Parsons visitor/guest artist, who received several of my jpegged art images. Restrained, passionate.
I will surely plagiarize his NJP-related thoughts.
Back to Parsons/School/NYC tomorrow and tomorrow is a marathon group critique, in preparation for the following Monday's full-on critique with Everyone.
24 months more and I'll be sashaying across a Manhattan stage in crimson robes to a symphony of airhorns and hoots and hollers. I imagine.
Summer Camp-burnt Love.