Stranger than Fiction

Day 19,  Prague airport.

I suspect some things may just never come easy. Saying goodbye to Z and Lora has to be pretty close to the top of that list. The 2 days I've had to reset back in Prague after the States has done wonders to break up this assignment, but is also serves as a painful reminder of all that I'm missing on the road. It's pretty intense that, as someone who has usually had a pretty easy time bidding farewell, I can't help but feel like a sobbing mess inside when it comes to my own flesh and blood. Such, I have learned, is the bond of parenthood.

To compound the emotions, the timing of my arrival in Bangkok couldn't have come at a more precarious time. As of two days ago, the Thai military has declared Martial Law in a coup designed to overthrow the government, which appears to have been successful. What exactly will be waiting for me, along with the Thai people, remains to be seen. Curfews have been imposed on all citizens, and all schools have been declared closed at the time of this entry. The nervous curiosity tingles through my body as I begin to wonder how this will all play out.

And in a true stroke of truth-is-stranger-than-fiction, my subsequent destinations do little more to soothe a wary soul. Qatar, located smack dab in the middle of an area in the Middle East that continues to be affected by some deadly respiratory disease, MERS, will be my next, and longest stop. Then assuming I get through Bangkok and Doha OK, I just hope Guangzhou will be far enough removed from the terrorist attacks in China that claimed the lives of almost 40 people less than a week ago. The carrots at the end of the stick are a day in Singapore and a weekend in Madrid before I see myself finally return home.

26 more days, and an infinite kaleidoscope of the unknown between this airport and home.

20 to Tulum

Looking back at what is almost the end of the year, I would say that expression seems to come in waves. Art, music, prose, and even inspiration all need their time in the spotlight to evolve. The revolving door, through which they often arrive unannounced, is always open to the next muse, whomever she may be.

For now, it's nice that she has returned to the page.

Looking ahead, I can't help but wonder what opportunities will appear once we switch time zones for warmer climates:))

Would be awesome to run into Clarence and Alabama if they're still sharing the same coast. You never know;) The last time I was in their neck of the globe, little Elvis was only 8. He' must have 2 decades on him by now!

Oh, como pasa el tiempo;)!

Pause, Exhale, Reset. Next?

It's so nice to have a little free time again and go out to walk around with the camera and simply explore and observe freely. The brief time "off" from my commercial work has also been great to re-evaluate just what I'm doing with my career and where I want to go from here.

There's still so many more questions than answers, but happily the 3 Monkeys will be on a plane to Mexico in 24 days, where I suspect a couple months on a beach will help shed some light on just where to go from here.

In the meantime, a small sample of a December afternoon in Old Town Square, Prague....

Tension Rising

This idea of Truth is like a record skipping in my head.

One voice says, perhaps the Truth is happening behind doors I don't know even exist while I preen myself blindly in front of some two-way mirror. Maybe it's so beyond all of us, that we will have to one day tell our kids when asked, only Google knows.

It's easy to forget that the truth is beyond the realities of our tiny bubbles, but after all, how many truths can one truly handle, when perhaps it is only one or two that matter most?

We have seen artists enlightened enough to prove that sometimes only fiction can reveal real truth, thereby blowing the definition of truth down a whole other rabbit hole... and drunken debacle no doubt;)

After all this week's midnight walks and missed tram stops, the crescendo of voices have come to the unanimous conclusion that an artist can also use the truth to create fiction, and how dramatic it may be when set free...

Blind Eyes, White Lies & the Three Truths

I love pub-induced debates that drunkenly stumble down verbal spirals on things like the theoretical differences between reportage and. documentary. Three inebriated photographers waxing poetic can be a very amusing, if not impassioned, thing.

In regards to the matter, I don't recall who said it, but his quote remains, "There are 3 truths: your truth, my truth, and the truth." Even looking at my work, I think it's pretty obvious which truth I'm prone to. The hardcore and the haunted can have all the other stuff.

In the meantime, bar stool semantics can continue to split hairs on the same head, while the only difference that matters in my eyes, is the most beautiful divide between that which aims to captures reality, and that which aims to defy it.

It would appear, my dear, that I am stuck between the two:)

P

This message is brought to you by the fine makers of Krušovice, or something equally tall, cold, and yummy.

50 down, 50 to go.

I've been home almost 2 weeks now and my 40-day and 40 night, sleep-deprived epic photo-marathon already seems like a long time ago in a galaxy far, far away.

Though now well behind me, it's assuring to to speculate that the distant faces and sleepless nights connecting Budapest, Bratislava, Warsaw, Geneva, Abu Dhabi, Beijing, Shanghai, Bankgok, Pataya, and the eventual island mountain sunsets of Koh Lanta will surely have a ripple effect for many years to come.

Along the way I've affirmed that sometimes a window seat is a soother for the soul, and that sometimes a massage in Shanghai can save a man's life:)

My favorite part continues to be the randomness of doors that open that wouldn't appear otherwise, while the icing on the cake, and sacrifice I make, is the light at the end of the tunnel to come home to instead of having to Skype every other night. 

Lora's vocabulary and bag of ticks seemed to explode while I was gone, and the fact that I missed all of that is my pound of flesh for the job. She's only 16 months, and I'm pretty sure she's going to be smarter than me sooner than later. She's now also practicing her dramatic skills to see how she can play her Maminka and Tata:) The best I can do is stay one step ahead... though now it feels like I'm now one step behind.

50 days from Budapest

50 days to the Yukatan.

Still on the Mission

If I'm ever going to truly make it as an artist, something has to change. With current commercial commitments until the end of 2014, making time to dedicate to my personal work always seems to fall to the bottom of the to-do list.

2013 could be the first in many year that I will not have at least one exhibition by the end of the calendar.

I realise it sounds odd to complain. Over the next couple months, my commercial work shall see me in seven more countries including China, Abu Dhabi, and Thailand. By all accounts, I suppose many photographers would consider travelling around the world from behind the camera as the ultimate success.

This may all be true, and to be honest, I would say I actually like most of my work and almost always find it quite rewarding on a personal level.

But still, I know that no matter how good I may become as a commercial photographer, how much money I stand to make, or how many stamps I get in my passport, no success can scratch the itch of simply wanting to express my own voice as an artist and to do something above and beyond what I am otherwise known for.