note #7: a letter from moose (aka stijn)
i received this email (below images) from my friend Stijn Schiffeleers on 1/11/2017, i kept trying to reply but nothing came through. when i encountered the alligators in the everglades some days ago, i thought of him. he’s very tall, everything in him is very tall, even his ......
alligators apparently do not care for humans, and i saw that with my own eyes. they really don't give a damn about us. they are self contained in their own pleasures, they move slowly with their eyes closed, they are cozy and their gazes are ancient, they reminded me of your softness and your sensitivity when you move, i am looking forward to your four eyes.
hello my friend that i miss seeing on a regular basis.
[i will address your beautiful email soon, but first this]
i feel so happy and lucky to know you.
being in Nevada City really triggered some strong emotions and very clear memories of our very first interactions.
i took a mental note of it.
as i try to further understand the importance of intimacy in my life.
intimacy in every way.
and while looking at some films by Ben Rivers last night,
i also strongly remember the excitement i felt at the Latin American bar,
in the middle of the major shifts that took place last year.
i have been refraining from naming it immediately, pinpointing what that excitement was, suppressing this urge to explain things.
this morning it seems obvious in some way though.
in its simplest form i think it is a place where your voice/brain and my eye/ear meet.
you talk and explain your thoughts.
you ask questions and you challenge my comments.
and i see what it looks like and hear the surrounding noises.
i can smell the water surrounding the gay boys in the Dead Sea.
feel the vibrancy of the region around it.
the tension between their bodies.
the body of water underneath their own floating bodies.
the shore line right next to it.
the horizon line too.
the closeness of Amman, Gaza, Jerusalem, …
the distance of those very same places.
and then …
i think of you and Diala in the Subaru [correctly pronounced].
and i want to be there.
want to sit in the back and listen.
the next day i put down my camera.
and we talk listen talk listen …
i do not film.
resist every nerve to pick it up.
fight the urge to document anything visually.
then at night we drink too much good tequila.
[btw Mary and I finished that nice bottle the other night]
and when we wake up,
i start filming again.
all day long.
i am there with that lens looking at you two.
but you ignore me.
don’t see me,
do not address the camera directly.
you are moving through a landscape,
moving through time.
moving through me [you >> lens >> me >> SD card]
moving through history even.
i see you.
you do not see me.
i follow every step.
make no decisions around where we are heading, when we eat or stop to pee.
i probably don’t even know where we are.
at the end of the day i crawl exhausted into bed.
excited to wake up tomorrow, drink a lot of coffee
and meet you over breakfast, look you in the eyes,
and start chatting away as if we haven’t seen each other for months.
so I guess this is my project proposal to you.
a video project and means to travel together through this world. and life.