Family. A 21st Century Love Poem

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.

2002 — 2007

‘You need not leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. You need not even listen, simply wait. You need not even wait, just learn to become quiet, still, and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked. It has no choice; it will roll in ecstasy at your feet.’
— Franz Kafka

At the time these photographs were taken I was sub-letting a room in a big old housing association flat somewhere in London (beware the dole spy). Feeling in a reflective and romantic mood I decided to compose some kind of nonlinear visual poem based on the experience… what an original idea I hear you gasp! My concept was loosely based on the advice Franz K hands out in the paragraph above… you know not leaving the house, becoming still and solitary and all that. This really appealed as at the time I was in a spiritual faze / haze, meditating and chanting at the drop of the hat (bed pictures titled ‘Meditations’ are the vacated sites of this activity) and generally quite off my head due to a lack of chemicals in my blood and brain. Looking back at these pictures now it easy for me to be cynical about what I was trying to say but it in essence it is an elegy to a very particular time and place.

I was living in this great house, I was clean, my friends and associates were clean, in my mind it was a little like ‘Tulsa’ after the fact and I wanted to celebrate it and mythologize it and perhaps even carve out a little photographic fame in the process. And now as I reflect on the photographs and what has happened since what can I tell you? I could dodge the bullet and say I have said enough already, that the problem of much photography is the lapse into the anecdotal. I could quote LC and expand on his theory that ‘once the needle goes in it never comes out’, I could tell you stories of the struggles and victories of my subjects and of myself, of births and deaths and relapse and heart ache. In the end I choose the first option of silence and in the poetic tradition encourage you to use your imagination.