a note on process (2/28/22, 12am):
Several times during the pandemic I experienced the terrifying sensation of tumbling top-speed through space while falling asleep. I’d lurch from bed gasping for air. Some people experience these hypnagogic hallucinations regularly. Some feel plagued by this. I find these states as fascinating as they are uncomfortable. I think a lot about sleep. Sometimes I meditate before bed, sometimes sip amaro and dream of my dead. I keep a dream journal. It makes no sense, and I rarely refer to it. I sleep well, in general, except for when I don’t. I like to hear about other people’s sleep anxieties, and their dreams, especially shared or prophetic dreams. I remember waking up, decades ago, to one sister scrubbing the bathroom floor with a toothbrush, totally asleep. Another sister sleep-walked downstairs, muttering “I’m on a boat.” I dream regularly of boats. I occasionally use la smorfia, a Sicilian dream interpretation system, to choose lotto numbers. I’ve yet to win. I keep a palm always under my mattress, change it out annually. I keep a heavy flashlight as an easy weapon. I keep old photos near, and books, and sleep well, generally. I spritz rosewater on my pillow and sheets.
In thinking towards Temp Files season 2, I kept thinking of a portrait series I’d made several years ago. People sitting on their beds in their daytime clothes. I almost always went with one of the first shots I took of each subject – when the awkwardness was still in the air, before they settled into the experience of being photographed. I loved the rawness of that liminal emotional space between the comfort and intimacy of one’s bedroom environment and the strange coolness of the tripod.