This is my second project for my photography class. Enjoy!
Sophie Calle invited strangers off the street to sleep in her bed. She was fascinated by the intimacy 8 hours of watching and documenting an unconscious fellow Parisian lent her.
Now, say what you'd like about Sophie (she was crazy, creepy, etc.), but I've decided I like her. I like her sense of adventure and complete disregard for the words "shocking," "embarrassing," or "normal." I like her definition of "art."
So for my little ode to Sophie, I decided to conduct an experiment of my own.
Now, just for the record, I hate being photographed. I usually refuse to pose for pictures because it makes me feel fake and uncomfortable, and I'd much rather point a camera at someone else than have one pointed at me.
So this project is a stretch for me. But Sophie was often the subject of her own experiments, and in hommage to her I made myself become
"The Sleeper."
In my Parisian bed, I recorded the events immediately preceeding, during, and following my sleeps and had Alyssa take pictures of me whenever she came to wake me up.
"The Sleeper."
In my Parisian bed, I recorded the events immediately preceeding, during, and following my sleeps and had Alyssa take pictures of me whenever she came to wake me up.
The intimate view of myself that follows is difficult for me to share and uncomfortable for me to view. The pictures are not my own and the compositional elements and lighting are weak.
But there's a hint, a glimpse, a peek into the very nature of photography itself. If I feel fake when I pose, isn't being asleep the most sincere I can possibly be? What, then, am I forfeiting here,
and what do I usually keep hidden?
5/11 6:50 pm
I get home, say "hey" to Emmanuel as I pass his room, put on deodorant, and sink into bed like a dead girl.
Last thing I remember thinking: I wonder if people thought Sabrina's name was funny when she came to Paris.
I dream about: A bunch of people making serious critiques on my flikr account like I'm a real photographer and exhibit my photos there. But I try vainly to explain that I just load everything online because I don't have a flash drive.
8:31 pm I wake up for dîner with "La Vie en Rose" in my head.
5/11 10:45 pm
After eating seven (very small) pancakes and drinking a smoothie under the sparkly lights at La Tour Eiffel, I take my medicine and crawl into bed with a blinding headache.
I fall asleep in my clothes.
Last thing I remember thinking: That will suck if I die of a brain aneurysm. But at least I'd be in Paris. Poor Alyssa... when she comes to take a picture, she'll have a picture of me dead. Not sleeping. Spooky.
I dream about: A Nintendo 64 Café where I try to beat Yoshi's story with my little brother, and a letter from the First Presidency warning that Study Abroad students aren't going to church.
7:51 am I wake up with "Girls and Boys" by Good Charlotte in my head.
5/12 5:15 pm
I accidentally fall asleep reading after the class picnic.
No dreams I can remember.
5/13 12:50 am
After a spectacular movie and a really unsatisfying meal, I go to sleep.
Last thing I remember thinking: I really should say my prayers.
I dream about: My best friend coming home from her mission and screaming at me because of the person I've become, and my roommates not being excited when I get back from Europe.
9:02 am I start to wake up while the picture is being taken, with "On the Open Road" from the Goofy Movie in my head.
5/14 12:36 am
I write for a long time and try to decide what to do with my life before bed.
Last thing I remember thinking: 21 really isn't that old... Ugh. Ryan.
9:45 am I wake up with "In the Dark of the Night" from Anastasia in my head.
Is any of this connected? Does it matter? Maybe all it proves is that I'm an erradic and heavy sleeper.
Or maybe all I am is just as crazy as Sophie Calle.
And, in that case, am I an artist?
And, in that case, am I an artist?
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