photography. a medium. an inbetween, a vessel or vehicle that carries or represents. ultimately it is a tool. a static middleman of sorts. a costumed interpreter.

the photographic image is one way to expel exhaust. it is effective, immediate, but can also be involved and complex. it is a highly customizable medium/tool.

all humans exhaust their mental byproducts, expel expression, find a need to articulate the world-surround; essential and inherent function.
i realize or maybe accept that there are those humans(me) who are overwhelmed by insatiable experience. i cannot turn the stuff off. is it something to turn off? textures fierce and over-constantly tied-in to the dynamic balance between instinct and intellect. for this, everything is tool. everything becomes art and element of thought. seams are lost.

of the many tools i have come to use, the camera, and it’s latent insinuations of time and abstract, provides a consistent portal where continuum enjoys tangible form. it is a good tool/product (the camera/photograph) to capture quick bits of visual sketch as well as to frame refined finished works. to me it feels like a swiss army knife.

i love the process- the movement of life. i am most interested in the details of culture and life-byproducts, the wear and tear of existence, but details as seen from a broad or vague vantage point. i am highly enamoured with seeing through things or of hidden sources of movement or sound.
the variable of the moment is exhilarating and obliterating.

i love hats and character bits. textures, fingerprints. mistakes, thrifstores; i love the things that dance with my exponent~ my dynamic circuit completed.

and i have a sneaky love for wigs. "sneaky" because it's almost like i am not aware of this "love" but i have detected its presence. i have other sneaky loves but i thought to share this one.

i believe in the artist. not the school, not the training, not the rules or guidelines, not the success, fame, income, or formalism.
i believe in the human, not the gender, not the age, class, race, clique, experience.

but as only one human i cannot know every other human. i cannot include every human. and to that, i seek out what my being gravitates towards. i seek out humans of notes and rhythms that bring our dance together.

i accept that i can't like everyone, that i can't know everyone.

Photos of colom j romero (9)

  • twice the distance to reflection by colom j romero
  • momentum in the shade by colom j romero
  • depress the woth by colom j romero
  • couch damage by colom j romero
  • song by colom j romero
  • gan by colom j romero
  • gan battles couch by colom j romero
  • fifth grade by colom j romero
  • spectacle by colom j romero

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scribble wizzard
May 2006
volcanoes of mountain time
realm of the western interior seaway, united states
I am:
Male and Single
wizzard (gorgon class)
otsugan [at]