The Middling City's Main Street has been littered with a wrecked red sedan for a long while. I've been to & fro from MC to Parsons several times and still it's there. Saw it last night and then again this AM en route to the photo lab. But a wondrous new twist! Some art students, I speculate, armed with day-glo pink spraypaint went to proverbial town on the car and it's entirely hot hot pink.
But now that I think of it perhaps this is a band of concerned citizens setting out to highlight Middling City eyesores. These folks will be damn busy.
Had freelance gig #1 this AM and one of the Bar Mitzvah boy's uncles remembered me, a moment which always has me feeling slightly howshallIsay under the XY microscope, and he said You're a photographer I like. After about half an hour of my guerrilla family-arranging strategies and gentle cajoling and general photog merriment (my Perfect specialty) he (jokingly) said You're the photographer I LIKED?
Off to many points beyond. But not the bigass country show tonight at Darien Lake, a gig delegated to Lead Boy Colleague, who's been making my traversing days a heap easier with his rootin' tootin' shootin'.
All.

Today in our grad seminar we spent the better part of 3 hours discussing postmodernism and the fore, modernism.
Self, noself, etc.
Saw and shot Ani last night at Central Park, part of Summerstage. It was a fabulosic night after a day resembling rain. A very mellow gig and everyone was very stonerific... yeah, like whatever.
She came out with a growl and the up and downness of the show was usual, her army out in full force, grooving on every little nuance. Always interesting to observe.
There was a girl shooting for D'Addario Guitar Strings, a German guy shooting For German television, a guy from Central Park and a random other. In the front of the crowd a few people asked who I was shooting for and when I replied ARTVOICE two people said Oh... I read AV, are you Nancy J. Parisi? There is no escaping Middling City escapees.
I am a grad student, thinking all the time, all the time, all the time. Making and doing and making and doing.
And diggin' on the whole dang thang.
My overworked and overtaxed love.

Further barrage of Photoshop information and my brain is saying Hmmmm, it's so nice and sunny outside right now, howsabout a meandering with the camera? I have a meeting in a few hours with a visiting artist to go over my newest work, all printed-out as 8x10s and looking very good, if I may say so myself.
Back in session of marathon Wired Studio class so off I go.
Braincells don't fail me now.
Love.

Right to the important part. The Perfect Nancy Johnny Depp review. Having to look at him with dreads and unsightly braids in beard is better than having no Johnny Depp to look at at all. I rest my case.
Two miraculous things about the pirate movie:
1. His kohl eyes, what's best referred to as the Keith Richards eye thing, never are diminished even after watery battles and endless rum-filled nights. And swashbuckling and general mayhem. Perma-liner. And why, I wondered, would pirates have had this like linebackers do to prevent all that pesky reflection? I need answers.
2. Even when Johnny Depp becomes an accursed skeleton (plot device!) he is still beautiful and the age-old cliché of 'jumping one's bones' sprung to mind.
Only bad part of the movie was that my PSD schoolmate I was with misplaced a wallet and I received a frantic call to see if I had accidentally grabbed it. I had not. But I would like to have grabbed Johnny Depp. Today in the Post I saw a photo of that bimbo Vanessa Paradis, what the hell does he see in this woman?
Had the imagistic priviledge yesterday of shooting an ultra-Orthodox Jewish wedding at Niagara Club in Niagara Falls, NY. Made for Life mag-type shots of the veiling ceremony, the drinking of wine under chupah sub-ceremony, etc. There were two standoutish moments.
The whole day was sexually segregated but as a person with a mechanical device strapped on I was able to float between the two spheres. In the mens' pre-ceremony room (where bottles of topshelf liquor were everywhere and so were plastic shotglasses) I was even offered a drink. Only after I replied Thanks, Diet Coke, did I realize the error of my freelancer ways. I was to drink a hard drink.
The second standout was that the dancefloor was divided by a white cloth and the same klezmer band played to the women and to the men, who enjoyed their post-nuptial merriment separately. It was a sight. The men danced sweetly in each other's arms, more touching than displayed with their girls and wives. They were red-faced with liquor and hard dancing. The women played more games like jump-roping and I thought that maybe the games seemed somewhat childish because back in the day brides might have been mere teenagers, ready to rumble before the big ol' (yikes) premier wedding night rumble.
Oh, the B&G made off to the private room (which all Jewish weddings I've shot utilize, a moment to say Hi, etc. before the social onslaught) but this Orthodox wedding included male elders watching the door to make sure that... no suitors/interlopers/pretenders slipped in?
All for now, back to graduate matters at hand, afoot, amind.
Love.