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Day 31

—brand guidelines, color palettes, “Final_Deliverables.zip”—grilled prawns&meatball tapas—conversations about travel&anxiety / “Being A Difficult Person” with Majo at Flexas—one more day in Mallorca, so a little penultimate celebration—

minet by night

—gonna miss this lil’ gal, who waits outside my door every morning and i’m pretty sure i get along better with cats than i do people—

08:00 / 17 May 2019
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Day 29

drawing pages and pages of icons, creating brand style guides, doing general things that agencies use months and charge hundreds of thousands of dollars for in the span of hours over days for the roof over my head and the food on my plate. i must admit i love the workaway program for its hardly subtle subversion of capitalism.

also i enjoy doing things that people charge hundreds of thousands of dollars for over the course of a weekend because these people are idiots and grifters. take the media budget away from nike and you won’t have much left over. anyone who works in advertising is a coward.

01:00 / 15 May 2019
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Day 25

when the world is sick / can’t no-one be well / but i dreamt we was all beautiful and strong

23:30 / 10 May 2019
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Day 22

the work I’ve been doing while in Mallorca is various but mostly centered around a couple branding campaigns and a web re-design (to which I’ve learned how much of a bitch woocommerce really is). the branding stuff is coming together though, with logos for a yoga studio and an alternative therapy venture finalized;

I have no problem admitting that part of the reason I enjoy projects like this is because a lot of people, from former professors to contemporary peers, take a look at my work/approach/life and assume I’m some one-trick pony of needing pyrotechnic visuals and unable to do more standard, modern or traditional graphic design, and I like to prove them wrong. It isn’t that I’m unable to compete in traditional methods, it’s that they’re unable to compete with what I can do. I can design a logo rebrand and build a presentation for potential investors while composing abstract soundscapes and still have time left over to write about economics or philosophy.

(I’m a little bitter these days.)

I have been trying to get back in to Capital-A Art, but it seems in dire times, the idea of the Art World seems callous at best; popular entertainment is a farce and things like the Met Gala just make me want to vomit. That artists would embody opulence in times of inequality for the sake of historical significance seems rather shortsighted.

Still, I’m making plans.

22:30 / 7 May 2019
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shoot your shots

due to a mishap that i don’t like to talk about, my precious camera was out of commission for some time. now rebuilt like new with a contrasting 50mm summicron, i’m back to taking on the streets all over the world—literally. still shooting like a basketball player returning from a leg injury, i’ve yet to escape the practice i used with most of my other int’l street photographs, but looking forward to pushing those limits a bit as i get back in the habit.

Back at it · Palma de Mallorca, Spain

shot so far (since boston 23 days ago): 6 b/w, 2 color, 1 color slide. still to shoot (before needing to buy more, obviously): 6 b/w, 7 color, 1 color slide. feels good, man.

14:00 / 2 May 2019
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Day 16

(early morning, just past dawn, I’ve only managed to calm myself enough for sleep a few hours prior and now the day has broken; sitting outside with my second cup of coffee and a raging headache, I do not notice the birds happily chirping until after a helicopter flying low overhead disrupts the flat blue sky. a calvacade of screams, roaring guitars… old songs have been echoing through my head, and the morning calm is completely lost on me, as my mind is already trapped in a black hole of extreme noise, destructive imagery from around the world and a state of terror regarding the heartbreak of each passing minute)

Walking down the main drag in Palma. Across the two lanes and their median is an array of overpriced shops lining the sidewalk. Nestled behind in the dense alleyways are luxurious hotels, tapas bars, high-end fashion retailers and other consumer-minded businesses catering to the international jet set crowd. There’s a yacht show down in the harbor.

And the entire way, it smells like shit. It’s strange, it’s fitting—on one side of me a famous cathedral, on the other a parade of BMWs and Audis with drivers wearing sunglasses that cost more than all the clothes on my body combined. The air difficult to breathe, each inhalation a balancing act of How much air do I need against How much of this smell can I take

(early morning, the opposite, past midnight, sitting at a table listening to conversations on either side of me; one in spanish, one in french. Fabrice tells me of his old life in Paris as an art director—of selling it all, moving to Mallorca after a 30-year career to be with his fellow artists, to play music. He was a co-founder of an advertising agency and now works odd jobs, but was playing his guitar wonderfully just hours earlier as his true passion. I feel a kinship to him, to the mentality, to the place… I suppose my career is experience, my tenure is in mapping the road.)

there are these parts of me i recognize in the places I visit, the people I meet, the conversations I have; parts of me that I don’t feel in myself anymore. Parts that feel closer to a memory than to my self.

01:30 / 2 May 2019
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count down look out

prior to takeoff

two bags, one camera, no return ticket

(other numbers: $300 cash, thirteen rolls black and white film, twelve unmarked pages in the passport, eleven shirts, ten rolls color film, nine hours removed from the American west, eight pairs socks/underwear, seven months to play around with, six invitations to work, five wires, four pairs of pants, three forms of identification, two lenses, one day at a time)

it’s been 20 days since leaving the west coast and 10 since landing in Europe. It’s strange to me how location seems to matter less—granted, being in America these days sucks so there is that—but more necessary is the changing views. I’ve one or two more weeks to fiddle around in Mallorca before heading toward Paris. Then, who knows. I’m considering Denmark or Ireland.

I’ll never be able to afford to buy a home but I’m at least not gonna sit on a fucking couch giving all my money to Comcast and Amazon for the rest of my life.

11:00 / 25 April 2019
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madness is a circle

19:00 / 22 April 2019
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Day Six

“the Portland weather has followed you here,” Antoine laughs as we drink a coffee and look at the gray skies above. “They say there are 360 days of sun a year in Mallorca, you’ve been here for the five that aren’t.”

just my luck

(i am working rather intensively on my current job so day-to-day life generally is similar to that in the States: eat, sit at the computer, play with the cat, walk around, drink too much coffee)

i played guitar for the first time in weeks which was a nice reprieve from worry… after a positive review of my work progress, i sat alone and looked at the wall. no art studio, no alcohol, no guitars, no weed and no friends means there is very little way to celebrate anything.

the recurring sentiment among folks i know in America is i’d love to just up and go to Spain et cetera … but the actual circumstances beyond that broad and generalized notion, the specifics of life and the emotional battering ram that follows regardless of the location, is far different than the sunny beaches and endless pleasantries that may be projected

reading the news is still frustrating and I am so glad to be away from the rather contrived system of American discourse, but perhaps that is simply evidence it’s time to leave politics behind completely. there is so much beauty here but beauty has never been enough for me. the surface of a bomb can be polished and painted until the moment it ends the world.

23:30 / 21 April 2019
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