jeffrey + upstairsloft

I’m giving the Lomo a rest. Olympus XA2 is now in use. It doesn’t take a Lomo to create compelling photographs. It’s like somebody telling you, “Cool designs. What computer did you use?” “Cool song, did your guitar write it for you?” Before I lay it to rest for several weeks, I intend on posting stuff from the last week.

Note to self. No more hiding in the laundry room. I made Kate cry her eyes out. Oops.

Designers should do whatever they need to do to clear themselves—whatever they can do to be able to listen—to hear their own intuition. The creative process always works; in our lives, it gets overridden by other stuff.
—Petrula Vrontikis, designer

I didn’t get much of a chance to unwind during spring break, despite my chance to sleep a full 6-8 everyday. Maybe the events that surrounded my spring break is the culprit. Maybe because there wasn’t much to take a break from. Maybe because I put to much pressure on myself everyday to wake up and work on my projects. That probably sums up why I was caught in an invisible net of exhaustion and anxiety to make the Phase 1 deadline for the day we return from spring break. Whatever it is, I didn’t get to recharge my batteries at all over spring break, even though I didn’t do much to even break a brain sweat.

Yesterday, the return from my MTV-like spring break (riiiight), I came to class a bit unprepared. I had extensive research for Project 2 except for the type experiments. I had ideas of type experiments but not much use for that if there’s no execution of those ideas. The instructor asks to post our typographical explorations. I thought I’d get a good inside laugh and post up all that I had. I posted a post-it note with my a vague representation of one of my ideas.

In my Production Management class, of all the things we were to show this instructor, I pretty much showed her a 50% to scale folded piece of paper that I call a brochure mock-up. Again, I had the ideas. All but one of them were not executed.

Yesterday, Kate and I went to our recently opened Target for the 3rd or 4th time in two weeks and bought candy, a tea kettle, tape dispenser, more double-sided tape and a bunch of other cool things that make us happy like caramel Reese’s FastBreak. Got back to the house. Cooked a delicious dinner. Cuddled on the couch until we napped. 30 minutes later, we wake up, I’m groggy as hell, I tell Kate “I wanna sleep,” So I stomp my way upstairs and just pass out on her bed. I fall asleep while she combs her hand through my hair. This was at 10pm.

Next thing I know, it’s 6 something in the morning. Kate and I get to school, I go to work and I am ready to work. My batteries are charged—Duracell even. The best sleeps are the long naps away from all the worries in the world. Somehow you just wake up and you’re ready to take it all on. That’s all I needed. It feels like a new semester.

There are two things I do in an elevator when I am alone. I kinda dance to my music if its a dope joint. I was doing it to Feist’s Gatekeeper before work. The other thing, I bounce the elevator. I also bounce the elevator in other people’s company. Kate used to get scared as hell but I think she got used to it. Either that, she learns to ignore my stupidity at an alarmingly fast rate.

No. I don’t want to live in Dublin. What’s Dublin know about that thizzz? Yeah. I know. Jeff, shut up.

I’d love to sit with a bunch of first-graders and just paint with watercolors. That way I can start with people that possess just a tad bit more of talent than me. I can start over since I didn’t art much as a child. I tried but failed. ADHD. I wouldn’t sit down too long to do anything. I can climb though. I have one great painting I did in first grade. It’s been framed since. It’s when I learned about the concept of abstract. Quite complicated for a 6 year old. Nonetheless, it’s a brilliant painting and if I ever become famous, it will be worth billions, neigh, trillions. My artistic side is crap but it’ll find its way to beauty. In fact, the more I try to stop controlling whatever I do, the more beautfiully it comes out. Why? And when can I tell myself that it is okay to control it?

My mom’s getting packed to join my dad in the Philippines, we’re pretty much just waiting for my Lola to pass on seeing that 10% of her brain continues to function, I didn’t pack any good dvds to watch and my girlfriend decides to go clubbing after convincing me she was just going to stick around for the night.

June played a huge supporting role this week by just hanging around, actually, letting me tag along. I must have woken him up three times just to drop by, even though it was 2:30 in the afternoon. While Kate embraces the idea of not letting anybody’s grief get in the way of her fun, I’m sitting in the corner of my room painting my nails black and whining love songs with my guitar. Not really. But I feel pretty shitty;that’s as straightfoward as it gets. No poetry, no long, clever way to articulate emotion, just a straight up “I feel shitty.”

Kate talks about dudes being hot. Well, I freak dance with hella ladiez cuz that’s real.

Everyone is a bloody critic. Instead of critiquing my photographs like somebody who matters and like I care, go out and take your own photos to your own liking. I’m not trying to satisfy anybody with my photographs. I’m just out to photograph and build up a gestalt of photographs on print that show cool colors, cool compositions, cool situations, cool patterns, cool subject isolation. Yeah, I used the word “cool.” It’s just that casual. Bugger off.

My intention is simply to build a collection. If not now, it’ll come to use 20 years from now. Is the idea of just going out and painting, or photographing for the sake of “feeling like it” such an absurd idea? Not all actions need an objective. It’s art.

I knew Coachella on Sunday had my lineup like Bloc Party Massive Attack and it would be awesome to see Matisyahu live but I did not know, until right now, that The Dears were going to perform. DAMMIT! Must save $75 and gas money. I want to go now. Kate, Paul, Rob… you read that?! Bloc Party and The Dears… damnnnnnnnn.