The Amateur

Dispatch from the void, Swedish death cleaning, analog vibes.

Images: L-R: Self-portrait, May 23, 2026. Receipts, May 23, 2026. Microwave, circa 1991 (developed 2023). Groupings on magnetic board, (digital) various dates, 2019-2023.

On images over words.

I haven’t felt like writing much, which isn’t entirely true, based on the number of verbose drafts I have penned and saved only to delete this month. I get like this. Words, too many words. I no longer want to explain the work or tell anyone what motivates me. I was doing my best to dumb down my thoughts in general when the word precarity appeared in a statement, then went away, only to return again.

“Retreat,” said The I-ching.

It’s been raining on and off this weekend, and I’ve consciously limited my time on social media in an effort to touch grass—although, as stated, it’s been wet outside. And it’s weeds, not grass, this year.

I’m considering identifying as an amateur at this point. I say this partly in jest, based on the root of the Latin verb amāre, which means “to love.” It’s no secret that I am in love with analog, but in my ongoing effort to master Swedish Death Cleaning, I came across an old flash unit, popped off a test roll, and developed it right on the spot.¹ ²And when I say I ‘popped off ‘ a test roll, I mean I shot nothing of utmost importance. I was in it simply for the thrill of the game and as an exercise in paying radical attention. Such a joy to be free of the all the naysayers and other voices.

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🥀🕊️🪦 Year sixteen as an orphan.

Mom with her favorite child

1. I practice Swedish Death Cleaning about once a week. Practice, being the key word. While it was not the right time to let go of flash units this week, I did manage to throw out a couple of empty envelopes and several duplicate sheets of student work circa 2002, in the form of 35mm slides.

2. Caffenol Delta Recipe on expired film.