Blog

This is my studio for exploring my work. Consider these drafts.

She can conjure him

She drank his whiskey (Templeton Rye), visited his grave in Chicago, and told me about his sense of justice. Al Capone, of course. 

I have a hard time believing that they wouldn't have been lovers, had their lives coincided. And I know without a doubt that he would have been as helpless as a little boy before her curves. As we all are.

But it didn't matter that they were separated by time. She can conjure him, embody him.

And she put him on. Or he put her on, I'm not sure.

There's a certain comfort in his rough-but-not-ragtag justice. It's in her, too.

by Balthazar

Since that first time

I hadn't been back to her place since the first time we met, now some four years ago. I've never felt far, though. She's the kind of person that holds you in her orbit and you trust that the magic of Newtonian physics will bring you back together at the right time.

So I wrote her a letter and she read it and it was as if not a moment had passed.

by Balthazar

The flower hour


See more of this beauty in and out of her florals with a dirty photo subscription... 

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by Balthazar

It's about listening

A camera is a way for me to listen. It's me being attentive. It's me forgetting myself. 

Bless you, you lovely people who share yourselves with me. I hope I've heard you well.


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by Balthazar

I think you'll believe, too

She requested a letter from me some years back, but it's I who have been the recipient of so many beautiful things from her. I had a sense of her magnanimous heart and magnificent proportions, but all my senses were quite undone when she visited Brooklyn and I was able to be in her presence.

Only the photos help me to believe that what I saw is even possible. I think you'll believe, too.

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by Balthazar

A Rainbow in Curved Air

We made plans on the telephone. With actual spoken words and purrs and laughs that were cute choppy squeals through the wires. Long bits of silence, but instead of staring at a screen or waiting for a bubble, there was breath. We lived in different cities, and in between our encounters, I went to the music library at school to check out CDs from all the musicians you talked about, but for whatever reason I could never take them out of the library. I had to listen to them in a little booth with giant headphones and did so every night for a week. Emptying myself so Anthony Braxton could fill me up with you. So Laura Nyro could draw me a map of where you have been. I'd sit in the audio lab basement every night for my crash course in you. Then crunch through the leaves back to my pad, praying to the great gods of Cool for a light on the machine.

Text by SM Simões

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by Balthazar

Angeline

You're no match for her. You should know that upfront. 


You can see one of her (many) projects here.


I saw James Tate and Gombrowicz on her shelves and I knew that she wasn't messing around.

by Balthazar

Some instant feelings

While two of my primary Polaroid cameras are broken (and another is temperamental if not downright grumpy) and I've not been able to take any Polaroids in the last month or so, they still hold my heart. Here are some that I've taken in recent months that I've been a bit neglectful about sharing. Enjoy, friends.

P.S. Don't forget that you can get a polaroid and letter of your very own

by Balthazar

Even the tiles had to agree

Her curves were more convincing than their 

| straight |

| lines |

And when she

(bent over)

I heard them gasp and whisper,

"Show us your way."
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by Balthazar

I wanted to know all her secrets

Just whisper them to me while I take a nap in your hair.
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by Balthazar