in the bones

BONES (full poem/film) from Natalie Raymond on Vimeo.

My first excursion into the overlapping space between poetry & filmmaking is this experimental short called BONES. I wondered: how can we bring poetry from its flat life on the page into the dynamic world of visual experience? I imagined a kind of music video for poetry. BONES is the result of these imaginings.

More: natalieraymond.com/bones

This short will likely be the last time I am *in front* of the camera. As I was editing this piece, over a year ago, I was almost unable to watch the clips I was in. Instead of being a kind of "actorish" modesty I felt like I looked uncomfortable. Many months later I had my aura photographed & one thing that was mentioned to me was that my aura read as me being unsure of if I want to be photographed or not. The photographer told me: you're not totally comfortable in front of the camera.

This is true. In the months since I've been thinking about this, turning it over in my mind. Really, all the time I spent fancying myself an "actor" was forced. I was never comfortable in front of cameras or on stages, but I was able to conceal this by not being myself, by trying to become the character. Of course you cannot ever really become a character, there are always still shards of you inside. When I watch myself in my acting projects I feel acutely aware of the viewing experience. You can see me being watched in my body language. What a liberation it is to now be the one doing the watching!

skies out there

new hobby:

walking around los angeles taking photos. 

see more black & whites.

layers

iphone collage no. 1

on top
on top
above

let it all
blend in.

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making collages on my phone while I lay in bed.
my brain turned toward what has never been.
I've wanted I've wanted I want--
but desire is the 8 of wands,
arrows lost in the dark

pieces

"the body on the side of the road was a metaphor."

mexico city portrait.

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I'm writing a novel & that's the opening line.
poems seem far away by prose is harder.
prose is solid lines.
poems are fogs gathering in valleys.

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some blogging about mexico city.

"I am a mixture."

- Frida Kahlo.

mixture
late middle english
from latin

how many parts
can make you
up.

dreaming of frida

I can't remember when I first became infatuated with frida kahlo. it was later in life than most creative young women discover her I think. she was always a bit mythic to me & I was content to view her paintings from a distance, & flip through the pages of books about her in museum gift shops.

in a few weeks I'm heading to mexico city. I've wanted to visit for many years, but never found the time or the justification. this past summer I thought: I want to go to the frida kahlo museum. & scheduled the trip for that purpose. I'm excited to see her blue house & maybe feel closer to this women whose picture hangs on my wall. she's always been a symbol of permission to me. frida says: ok. now go.

now I want to know more about her. she is quite enigmatic. but the biographies I've found center her as a "married woman" & seem to gloss over her bisexuality, her politics, her contradictions. this is not uncommon in the ways we think about women artists. most often they are asked to be flat things. not allowed the flaws & problems of their male counterparts. I wonder: what will history erase of me? what will it erase of my female friends writing & painting & making art...

two poems for america, october 2017

(day 224)

(day 225)