Shame and Envy

Her work is lovely.  She goes by the moniker "Liliroze."  Long ago, maybe even before I had the studio, I used to correspond with her and we exchanged prints.  I have three.

I wrote on the blog long ago that her work reminds me of Sara Moon's photography, and somehow someone got confused about whose work was whose, so now all around the internet, there is a photo of Moon's attributed to Liliroze and vice-versa.  

Truly, though, it is sometimes difficult to tell. 

I am a sensualist and still in love with her work.  As successful as she has been, however, I was surprised to see that she is crowdfunding to print her second book.  Surprised, but in.  I tried to pay up yesterday, but the site wouldn't accept my PayPal payment, so I wrote to her.  It has been years since we last exchanged notes, maybe a decade, but she remembered me and the prints I have.  That gave me a lift.  If you like, you can visit her website here (link) and, if you wish, you can contribute to the publishing of her book here (link).  I think.  It still hasn't taken my payment.  

I just wrote a long and boring bit about going to lunch with Travis yesterday.  I am not writing well this morning, so I deleted it.  Some days are like that.  We had a fine lunch and ate and drank at a very empty bar for an hour and a half.  There is nothing I can tell, though, that wouldn't expose our deviant characters, but I can say the world has changed enormously since we began our travels, and as one is always told, "You shoulda been there."  

In the later afternoon, when I went to see my mother, the across the street neighbor came over to excitedly report that she and her husband were learning canasta and had ordered a canasta deck.  When I told her that I didn't know how to play canasta and was only joking, her demeanor changed.  I think she was pissed.  She didn't stay long, and I guessed she was in a hurry to go home to tell her husband.  

"It wouldn't hurt you to play," my mother said when the neighbor was gone.  I'm going to have to be careful about who I tell that joke to, I guess.  Some people are even lonelier than I am.  

I haven't had a call back about my studio.  Should I take it for an omen?  Should I simply forget about that?  I look at Liliroze's photos with envy and shame.  I used to make photos that people liked.  Sure, I voluntarily gave that up, but that doesn't mean I shouldn't start something new.  I haven't taken a photograph for weeks.  I make plans, but I don't follow through.  There is some truth in thinking I am fearful.  I have people who want me to make photos of them, but I delay.  What if I can't make a good photo anymore?  What if my imagination has shriveled and died?  Maybe I'm too afraid to confront that and see.  

Or maybe I've just grown lazy.  That seems very likely to me.