Tag: looking back

by jad

Cat Power at CHOMP!

I’ve been listening to @catpowerofficial for years and years, ever since @aliciammmm first introduced her to me a lifetime ago, but I never got the chance to see her perform live—there’s a whole era of artists that shaped me from afar when I lived in places they never ventured, and I’d long resigned myself to keeping it that way. But when I heard that Chan was playing at @kingcountychomp this year, and for free (!!!), I knew I had to be there. What I didn’t expect, though, is how moved I’d be. From the first notes of ‘The Greatest,’ my … Continue reading “Cat Power at CHOMP!” →

by jad

Twenty Years Later: Back in New York, Turning 40

After twenty whole years, I’m back in “the city that blends and mends and tests”—and I still have a screenshot of that split second when my name pops up in the Beastie Boys video as my email avatar. I came here back then as a kind of escape; to be totally anonymous even for a little while; to turn 20 away from everyone, almost to prove a point: that I could make something out of this “great, unstable mass of blood and foam.” And this city did not let me down. It consoled me when I was at my lowest … Continue reading “Twenty Years Later: Back in New York, Turning 40” →

by jad

Two Years Since the Care Bear Polaroid

And just like that, it’s over. The art’s been struck, the crowds have gone home, and for some reason, I slept even worse now that it’s done than I did in preparation and anticipation; I guess my brain needed time to process it all. I’m very grateful to @nwfolklife for this opportunity and for all the hidden helpers that made this possible. Thank you Ben for inviting us into this novel process. Thank you Emma for taking on such a logistical labyrinth. Thank you Pete for figuring out how to even install this non-traditional art. And thanks especially to Faith … Continue reading “Two Years Since the Care Bear Polaroid” →

by jad

Seven Years of This Account (Pike Place After Dark)

Pike Place, after dark, on New Year’s Eve. x I started this account seven years ago as a grounding tool; a way to mark my x on the spot with a move as massive as immigration. Over time, it became a diary of sorts. A way to break with hesitation and rearticulate myself and my thoughts, especially in the depths of pandemic longing and despair. But now I find myself wanting to write less and say less. Some of that is a consequence of having picked up photography as an honest-to-god hobby, instead of just a visual pairing with the … Continue reading “Seven Years of This Account (Pike Place After Dark)” →

by jad

Janus, Resolutions, and the Rent Gap

There’s a metaphor here somewhere. Art in the interstices of the rent gap. According to Google Street View, this space has been vacant for years – even before the pandemic. The last time a business operated out of this address, it was Zipcar, itself a symptom of a recomposed post-crash economy. Platforms for recirculating value. Prints and misprints. x I’d like to say I read this, but it was a video on my feed. The Romans chose January 1 as the new year because of Janus, the two-faced god of the threshold, at once looking forward and back. But they … Continue reading “Janus, Resolutions, and the Rent Gap” →

by jad

Japan Trip: Tokyo Dream Park, and Coming Home

People waiting to be let into the mall to see that poop-shaped whatever store I mentioned earlier, while others mill in and around the nearby Symbol Promenade Park. That long golden teardrop you see in the last slide is the “Flame of Freedom,” a gift from the French government. x “Waiting Room” x “Tokyo Dream Park.” More views of what remains of the K-Museum building and the very last of the roll of my last roll in Tokyo. x This whole area is reclaimed land like Hiroshima and meant to be a showcase of Tokyo’s dreams of the nineties, with … Continue reading “Japan Trip: Tokyo Dream Park, and Coming Home” →

by jad

I don’t like explosions very much at all.

It’s been really gratifying to see more people commenting on the uneven distribution of firework joy, whether as a form of reinvigorated protest, or in the shape of that poem being shared about explosions and the differentiated lives we’ve lived. That’s been a thorn in my side for most of my life. I wrote my own poem once about the rat-tat-tat of compatriots insisting on our communal bonds outside my teenage bedroom door. I wrote an email too, my first time experiencing a Royal Air Force fighter jet screaming over the Royal Mile in Edinburgh back when I barely researched … Continue reading “I don’t like explosions very much at all.” →

by jad

Battleship New Jersey

The scans from my last day on the East Coast, a day I spent on this war machine turned war memorial, just came back as the drums of global conflagration have reached a deafening crescendo, making this eerie space look even creepier. I’ve never enjoyed shows of military might. I don’t rejoice in fire power. I don’t even particularly like fireworks. But I will always cheer when the mighty fall. And I will always mourn the innocent devoured by the hungry maw of imperial expansionism. Do not ask me to take any other sides. When I walked aboard, I was … Continue reading “Battleship New Jersey” →

by jad

The Photographer in May

May was a rough month for me, a fact that, I think, was reflected in the way I wrote and took photos; clipped, halting, and more enigmatically than usual. Below is an analysis generated by ChatGPT to help me articulate what I could not express during that time. The person taking these photos seems to possess a documentary-style approach to photography, capturing candid and unfiltered moments from everyday life. Their photographic style suggests an appreciation for the ordinary, focusing on details that might otherwise go unnoticed. The toy car in the first image reflects a sense of nostalgia or playfulness, … Continue reading “The Photographer in May” →

by jad

Some Sort of Attempt

When I was finding my way back to some kind of Christian faith, I stumbled on a zine from the 80s called “A Pinch of Salt,” initially founded by a group rather cheekily calling itself C.I.A., or “Christians Interested in Anarchism.” I was a would-be radical fumbling around for some sort of faith, and they were a group whose tagline in the early days was “some sort of an attempt at revolutionary Christianity,” and it completely turned what I thought I’d known about the religion of my birth upside-down. Indeed, one of the pages of first issue boldly declared in … Continue reading “Some Sort of Attempt” →