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


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by Balthazar

Nature's first green is gold

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by Balthazar

Outside, inside

Outside it is spring, and I could spring right out the window, that's how painful I find this long, not-being-allowed-to-move-one's-limbs.

- Robert Walser, The Tanners

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Watching, Waiting

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by Balthazar

She's soft

by Balthazar

We were each other's summer vacation

She looks like you but it couldn't be you because she is as old now as you were then.
Which is as old as I am and that is not young now.
But for a moment I pretend that now is then and turn around to see all the rest of them that would be with us now.
All the other girls kohl-eyed and Doc Marten'd. All the other men side-burned and pompadoured.
We're wrapped in a canopy of Djarum, thrift store sweaters and Riverwest flats.
Then you would lift a beer to your poppy-colored lips. I would want to bite your magnolia scented neck.

We were each other's summer vacation, even I knew that.
That our now was fleeting. Soon to be then.
You'd show up looking like a freshly picked tulip when I was done with work
and follow me down the long, dark nights that led to sea-sick mornings.
Your tea kettle terrified me. Your roommate painted Matryoshka dolls.
Then you got a new job you that you went to school for.
I left a couple messages on your answering machine
But I knew that you had slipped through the floorboards of my attention into then

(Text by Sonia Simões)

by Balthazar

Show me, darling

by Balthazar


She hops freight trains when she gets bored. A restless, rolling, ramblin’ fetish.

You can call her Betty.

That was a day I wanted to stay

It was the summer I bought a pocketknife at the street fair by my apartment. (What can I say? I had a pocketful of money, a liver full of beer and nobody was answering the phone.)  My body sustained by wine and shift meals and my mind hooked on a speedball of love and jealousy, I was a river of untrammeled, undulating id for months straight. And come September, my socks were bloody and my rent was 2 months late. But it’s the summer I always think of when I think of “summer” and I, in weaker moments, would give anything to spend one more day in that mad land of no rules.


A glimpse of you took me there the other day, covered with late afternoon sun, summer dew, and charcoal. The movement of your forearm wrapped me up and dropped me in my long ago apartment when a thunderstorm ran its thumb against the sky. My lover and I were overtired, underdrunk, and anxious, molten together on my bed by the humidity. He whispered that if we made love our sticky skin would turn slippery and the wind of the storm would cool us. I was humbled by the brilliance of it all and then, so suddenly, I returned here, back to you. The whirr of the rain was replaced by the glow of your smile. That was a day I wanted to stay.


Text by SM Simões

She's my Sunday afternoon

(Scan of a polaroid negative)

by Balthazar