Saig, for what is was worth.

I was in Saig this weekend with my Grandfather, his sister, and Stefan. It was supposed to be from Thursday until Sunday but Ingrid, my grandfather's sister had pain in her arm so we came back today, Saturday, a day early, which really pissed me off. However, this trip wasn't for me, it was for my Grandfather, and mostly I am sorry for him because he is 83 and has pretty much decided that this was his last trip to Saig. His family vacationed in Saig when he was a kid, and during/after the WWII he lived and work there. It was supposedly a safe place for him to go because then he'd be away from the war, although he told gruesome stories of French fighter planes coming down so low to the ground and shooting the people who were outside, farming, walking, driving, whatever. And just to do it, for no particular reason or another. Grandpa simply said, "Everyone had a different point of view. The guy in the plane had a different view on the situation than the people in the cars. You can't blame anyone now."

We went to the farmhouse of Fritz Klimsch, who is a German sculptor. Google him, he's a cool guy. he made this sculpture of my great aunt Gisela, my grandfather's elder sister in 1942



This house was a rich place of antiques and artworks and it is beautiful. The house is hundreds of years old, and some of the rooms are still in the original conditions. It is very well taken care of and now Reinholt and his wife live there. They were very nice and took me through a tour of the house. I was almost crying the whole time, and I pretended not to understand some things they were saying because my german isn't good enough, but to tell the truth I didn't want to cry in front of them. The rooms in this house were so filled with a History I cannot even begin to know or understand, but you can feel it when you walk up the crooked stairs, when you feel the worn but beautiful rugs beneath your feet, when you see the photographs and sculptures, flowers, and curtains. I felt the memories of hundreds of years around me, the pain and joys of knowing one place for that long. I don't know if I have actually started to process it, but I know I have to go back at least once. I photographed the house some, and I think it will be a nice edition to the photographs of my grandfather that I have already taken so many. I have some new ideas about the project and for that I am very thankful to have had this trip. I kept thinking, these were the stairs that my Grandfather climbed. This was the porch where my Grandfather sat, looking at the same trees, the same stream, the same stars. I laid on the hill at night with Stefan and thought, my Grandfather has been here so many times to stare at the same stars, from the same point of view. And although we were both in Saig together at this time, my experience alone, and his experience alone, could not be from more opposite angles. I wish I could have stayed there longer. I wish I could stay there for 10 years with my Grandfather. Sometimes he really seems old to me, but I'm thankful that he is 83 and walks around where he wants to and makes these 5 hour roadtrips without a whisper of a complaint. He is really easy to be with and I hope when I'm so old as my Grandfather now, someone my age is able to get along with me like I can with him.

Now I'm back in Bavarian City Life, for whatever that is worth, and I needed to get some of these words away from my head. I found a MA that I really like the sound of so far from what I have read and seen, and I hope when I go to Berlin that I can visit the school and find out a little bit more. Next weekend I'm going to a Music Festival, the next weekend to Berlin, the next weekend Lubica will come, the next weekend a camping trip with my friends here, and then the next weekend I'm going to fall over. I'm looking forward to every moment, I hope they all can be as rich in experience as the past two days were for me.

for what it's worth,
-hkh

letters to people.

I had a good day with my Grandparents. They are amazing people. I could listen to them talk all day and all night, and I would never be bored. I accidentally insulted my Grandfather, cause I tripped over some words as I spewed them out, when I tried to tip-toe backwards out of the statement I fell further in the hole of being rude. What are you doing right now? I'm feeling like I'm hurdling through time and space too quickly for my own good and I can't open my eyes because the wind is so strong,

probably drank too much caffeine today,

maybe just forgot to appreciate life.
[for lunch I had homemade lentil soup and glaceed apricots for dessert. I sat opposite my Grandmother, saw myself in her eyes and got rather lost. I heard her tone, I saw her blinking back the emotions that aren't allowed yet still arise. I saw her carrying 7 decades of pain around, slipped under her translucent skin just burning there forever. I saw her being strong, loving so intensely without ever getting very close. My grandparents took turns showing me pictures of them when they were kids. As my grandfather flipped the pages of the old tattered photo albums I could hear the glue separating from the pictures and I watches his skin crinkle, red and dried skin that have been through war and birth and death and adventure and sailing. His hands have been through the births of 5 children, 9 grandchildren. His hands have held money from over 40 different countries and saved hundreds of lives. They've held horse shit and baby puke, and he's lost 3 or 4 fingers, all reattached later. His hands have felt the softness of his puppy's fur, and the cold metallic gates of prison camp. His worn, tired hands are the most beautiful thing I've seen in such a long time.]

okay, one thing, thank you...

No one should live without leberwurst, a soft boiled egg, goooood bread and a pretzel with some elderberry preserves, butter and salt for liberal use, and some black tea with a little bit of sugar. every morning. every day. or at least some of it. i can die happy now after breakfast this morning, correction, this afternoon. i will post images later. flickr hates me right now.

home away from home,
i feel here
life is grey skies,
cloudy days,
in my favorite cities.

irony or something like it

irony: a state of affairs or an event that seems deliberately contrary to what one expects and is often amusing as a result.

I think this sums up my life in a word, pretty much.
It's the sleepy sunday mornings that couldn't be more grey, that couldn't be happier, that couldn't be more lonely, and oh so satisfying. It's the conversations that precede and foreshadow the meeting of someone who just sortof sticks in your head. It's an innocent but passionate kiss hours after deciding people aren't meant to be together. It's finding peace in chaos and friendship during tumultuous times.

It's cliche writing by someone who doesn't like to conform.

It's working at a private coffee house wearing a nike sweatshirt. fucking hypocrite.





so i won't ever get married EVER. i met my future husband last night.

fuck.

The skies are grey and I'm thinking of you, lover.

You lover, who keeps me safe, but
who keeps me walking on eggshells.
You. Lover, why do you do this to me?

Who is lover?

Lover, whom I take care of.
Lover, the one I put to sleep at night.
Lover, the girl I wake up in the morning, the one I feed.
The Man I let sleep next to me.
The woman on the train who needs help.

The burden of a thousand books on my outstretched arms. Lover, the one I see through the 80 millimeter lens. The one I focus on, the one I breath for and takes my breath away.

Lover, who are you, and when will you leave me alone?
How can I wish to be self sustained,
on the other hand of the clock,
wish you here, completely stained. Waiting for me. To save the day.
Why must I subsist on the weight of others' problems?

What has happened to my life? What has happened to the joyous days
the days of carefree, the days of late night sunsets and early morning joints.

The skies are grey now, and as they remain this way
it slowly takes away from me. It slowly drains the blood from my body.
I return home catching tears before they fall,
trying so hard to make things right,

never. right?

Someday I'll sail forever. Someday I will fly.
Someday not today I will not drag you around, lover.
Someday lover will be nothing but my own reflection.

With such gravity, my feet take steps
Back and forth, sped up, slowly taking.
Waiting to fall and hit my head on the cement,
just to bleed and feel to remember I'm still human.

Lover, you make me a machine
Saving everything, saving you, losing me.
Lover, who are you and what do you want?
Please fly away and don't return. Let me stay behind

capturing what I please, this fake reality.
Staying in the dark, waves washing over,
and revealing only the truth I believe to see.

Art and everything else in life.

1. Art.

Who is to say what I can and cannot do with my own art? I'll decide what is and isn't exploitive.

2. I like to see and experiment with different social identities. I don't find it weird that I can change myself and mold myself consciously to see how others will react. Okay, maybe other people don't do that? I don't know. Someone fill me in. I have been having a mild identity crisis lately. What is an identity crisis anyway? Is it looking in the mirror and not recognizing your very own face? Is it not knowing who you are to others? Is it not knowing how you will react to something? Is it when you surprise yourself by actions that you are doing, and you don't expect to be doing them in that particular way? Am I being heinously vague? I don't remember the shape of my nose being like it is. I don't remember acting like my Dad does to things. I don't remember my eyes being this color. Maybe I never paid attention. Maybe I've changed. Maybe I like feeling like I'm in a new skin constantly. I think I am changing and growing as a human that is existing, and then reaching beyond simply existing and expanding. Not literally expanding, by the way. Expanding your openness, expanding your peripherals to perceive more than you're used to is what I mean.

I, at the same current time, am completely happy knowing the people I know and am really, truly enjoying life as it comes my way. I am excited to be at school being pushed beyond my comfort zone and reaching depths of my photography that I didn't know existed. The hasselblad doesn't hurt the cause, either ;-)

People in Chicago are fucking rude sometimes. But, all in all I love it here.