Deadly Sins

Originally Posted Monday, November 11, 2013

"coconutdreamin" by ed ross

Ed Ross is still one of my favorite contemporary photographers.  There aren't many any more.  I have a couple, but none of them have what Ross has--a possibility of danger.  One of the photographers I like is technically wonderful and has a tremendous aesthetic.  I have tried to copy much of what he has done.  But in the end, looking at his photographs is like waiting for the next Norman Rockwell painting.  You know it will be another portrait of folksy or odd America.  It will be good, but it will never shock you in any way.  You can see his smile in his photographs, kind of homey, all-American.  Right there in the middle.  I can see Ross's smile in his photography, too.  It is an enigma, a grin, really. He is a sweet enough fellow, but he is truly his own man.  He doesn't pander to middle-class tastes because he doesn't have to.  There is probably nothing as dangerous as someone able to follow their own interests. 

I thought this was a portrait of a strange boy for awhile, and I thought him seriously dangerous, the kind of sleepy-eyed goon you'd find in a 1940s detective movie, a true deviant without morals or social conscience.  It may be, I don't know, but somehow I doubt it.  The photo's title doesn't offer me any clues. 

As I keep repeating to you and myself, I am taking off the holidays from creating things in the studio.  It is truly awful.  I have nightmares.  I tell myself it is because I am burned out, but what if that is not the case?  What if I just don't have any ideas any more?  What if I've reached the end of my ability to think imaginatively?  What if I've gotten so old that I can't get the sort of reaction I need from people any longer? 

I'll find out, I guess.  And if that turns out to be the case, I'll sell a whole bunch of stuff, quit the studio, live like a Buddhist monk, and save a whole bunch of money.  Though the Buddhist monk thing might not work if I ever go out.  I've not been around so many beautiful women as I was at Sunday brunch for a very long time.  It did me no good, of course, and was probably bad for me bye and bye, but I can't seem to put an end to desire as a good monk should. 

Nor can I put an end to envy.  I envy Ross's work.  I am a mess of venial sins.  Holy shit!  I just Googled "deadly sins" and I am pretty much full of them.  The Church says they are the death of grace and charity in the soul--Deadly Sins. 

Maybe I should enjoy the Rockwellian photographer more.  There are no apparent sins there.  But Ross--oh man. . .   (link),