The Discovery

The Discovery, originally uploaded by Brianna Calello Photography.

I couldn’t have been more correct when I stated, “the revelation I’m looking for can only occur from the evolution of my creation.”
On Friday morning I groaned in bed at the fact that I had to get up and go to class. A travel which took me only 15 minutes by bus from my previous residence now takes- a car ride, a walk, a train ride, a transferred train ride (only one stop), another transferred train ride and a 10 minute walk through tourists- a little over an hour. All of which has to be completed by 9am. She doesn’t allow breakfast in class- my body only accepts nourishment after at least 930am. By the middle of class I’m dying, and by class… I mean performing on stage and doing thespian exercises to warm up. It just wasn’t meant to be. It was stressing me out. So I went all the way to Cambridge to decide to quit.
I started walking back to Harvard Square. I decided I didn’t want to come all the way just to return home. I took the train back to Boston Common to see the morning showing of Where The Wild Things Are. It was playing in one of the really big theaters for new popular movies. I sat in this giant theater all alone watching the pre-preview looping… thinking about my decision, and being perfectly okay with accepting my first F. Eventually people came; a group of special education young adults, on some sort of group trip to the movies. This made my experience far more enjoyable. I’ve always envied the idea that someone mentally challenged often sees the world so simply. The movie was everything I hoped for; by the end I had convinced myself that it was my life story.
After leaving the theater, and having a new sense of the meaning of life I walked toward Chinatown for some afternoon boba and a hotdog bun. I don’t know if it was some sort of food-stamp day in Boston or because President Obama happened to be in town but there were far more homeless people in the area at that particular time than I ever cross paths with on any given day in the city. There were a lot of rough characters out; it really made me miss San Francisco. Yes… I am reminiscing on the tenderloin- let’s pretend this isn’t a weird thing. I sat in Bao Bao Bakery enjoying my favorite Chinatown delights and decided to write. It felt right, and the words just came out.
The following is what I wrote:
“What is identity? To the people across from you on the train you are just your looks. You are the assumptions that people make of you. To the government you are a set of numbers, a distinct 9-digit number that affects your life from birth to death. To your family, you are who you’ve grown to become- they’ve seen you at your best and worst. Fate has identified them as your family, a force stronger than we can comprehend grants a love that cannot be explained… at least in most situations. Friends accept you for who you wish to be around them because they choose to. But who are you? Are you the traits passed on from generations passed? Are you the person you used to imagine yourself becoming? Are you hiding yourself out of fears? Look in the mirror. This is you. You are exactly who you see yourself to be. You cannot hide secrets from yourself. You are the only person who can completely understand the fragments of your every being. So next time you look at someone else think about this, because every individual has an identity, several in fact. Every identity has a story. It all depends on how much you want to discover.”

I closed my journal and took in all of my thoughts, had a great conversation with a woman who was experiencing Bao Bao Bakery for her first time, and went home.
It all makes sense now.
I’m constantly searching for the idea of my own identity, so much so that it consumes my thoughts. The idea that; every experience, every day lived, every fact read, every person met, every place traveled to- affect your life immensely and you may not realize this for years or maybe its only subconscious. But it’s all there; every detail is in every fiber of you.
My project is a matter of me piecing together all of these fragments.

B.

new directions.

I’ve come to decide, the revelation i’m looking for can only occur from the evolution of my creation.

the thoughts that i have constantly swirling around in my head need to be transferred into creation. there is no way to avoid those thoughts, and so face them.

it took a 25 minute tearful meeting with my teacher to get to this point of course…

but it all makes sense… it is not in my best interest to plan every detail in my work… instead let it reveal itself to me.

so i’m just going to go out and create beautiful images of what feels right.

i keep referencing my mindset to how Caden Cotard felt in Synecdoche. New York… when he constantly stated “I know how to do it now” and it may have never been officially complete but it continuously grew into something so much bigger than he could’ve ever imagined it to.

and my teacher reminded me that this is far bigger than i’m realizing it to be… this is not something that will be complete by December. and that is perfectly fine, it’s actually a good thing.

i do not know where i will end up, or even where to begin, but i think that is what Gilda Radner was referring to when she described “delicious ambiguity”.

brave what lies within.

B

Venting, my rare occasion to release honesty to the public.

To be quite honest with you, I’m shocked I’m taking to the web to vent, lately I vent on paper, where it can be kept personal. But I feel as though venting in a blog right now has the potential of feeling very liberating.

I’m working on a project for a class entitled “Sophomore Seminar II: Projects” basically, commit to a project for the semester and critique the shit out of it weekly and watch it evolve. I absolutely adore this class, the idea, the classmates, the teacher (absolutely adore). But you have no idea how frustrating it is to give this class your all when you have: 4 other classes all of importance, work all weekend leaving you exhausted, frustrated, and with no extra time but to loaf from said emotions. I had a plan for a project almost all summer, ideas popped into my head for it all the time and I write everything down so when class started a month ago I felt like I was ready to explode with ideas and plans. And then I get asked what my emotional tie to the project was and everything falls apart… not because I had no emotional tie, but because I realized the emotional tie was SO strong that at this stage of my life I could only see this project being a semi autobiographical, emotional mess. I pictured myself standing in front of the class crying because I would be so emotionally tied to it. So I instantly scratched that idea from the drawing boards. I flipped through my moleskin, and found an idea I had quickly jotted down one day as a ‘plan C’ for a class I had taken over the Summer. Instantly more and more ideas flourished with this concept and I felt like I was back on path. The general idea was to use Route 1, that’s it… no concepts, no plans, no nothing. Just make locations on Route 1. I’ve only shot along the highway 3 times now and I feel overly exhausted from everything surrounding the project. I get excited with my ideas, I write and write and write and plan and shoot. Editing is a synch when you’ve done everything the way you wanted to. And the prints are crisp and clean when you’ve lit and edited with careful consideration. So whats the problem? Where to start? I don’t live in dorms, I no longer live with artsy roommates, My friends will probably just think it looks cool. I literally sit with my thoughts 24/7 writing and thinking and planning. And apparently my thoughts aren’t working. So what the fuck do I do now. I’m sorry that you who aren’t from Saugus think that Route 1 is “so weird and crazy” its just not that. Its a fucking highway with giant neon signs. I tried to make it more interesting by giving it concepts based on locations, but obviously they don’t work. I’m not venting because I hate critique or can’t take the criticism, I love it more than you can imagine- it’s very therapeutic. But when a bunch of ideas are thrown at you at once and you thought your idea was worthy, it feels like standing against a wall and everyone- one by fucking one shoots a bb gun at the same spot. I won’t deny that I cried the entire drive home. I won’t deny that I almost walked out of class and bawled my eyes out in frustration either. But Brianna doesn’t show emotion to others. I’ve never been pushed so hard and wanted something so much but at the same time just completely wanted to run away and never come back. I don’t have a clue what to do with my project. I am stuck in a pit of quicksand and can’t get out. I don’t want to change the project, that’s worse than continuing till the end and getting the F.

Maybe jotting down my random thoughts on Route 1 and what I’ve taken in today will lead to a conclusion, so here goes:
Saugus doesn’t feel like home anymore. It feels like a place that I went to school for most of my life, but since graduation i’ve moved every year. It’s hard to feel the sense of home when my home is no longer there. It’s hard to feel the sense of comfort it once brought when i’ve realized i feel more comfort in change. It’s hard to enjoy it when your friends are at school with their new friends living their new lives and you used to be that person. When people used to ask you what cool things you were up to. And now all I can say is that I’m doing a project on a place that they probably consider home.

Its hard for me to examine the idea of Route 1 being weird because I see it so often. I don’t deny that it is odd, but it’s not what the unfamiliar think it is. Am I supposed to take this thought and fly with it? Because I don’t feel strongly about pursuing that I just feel like people think its weird oh well.

I’m fucking sick of Saugus. I never loved it. And now I’m always there. I only like it when Im not there for months and it feels foreign to me.

I want to leave.

I feel stuck.

I’m inspired by so much and yet completely uninspired by everything.

I don’t like where I live. I’m unhappy here.

Maybe I thought ‘going home’ would make me happy. It makes me stressed out and angry.

I don’t want to give up on this project but realizing my feelings makes me feel more a more detached to it.

I was supposed to write a paper on Luis Gonzalez Palma for a different class due the latest tomorrow. I do procrastinate in life, but papers I rarely keep to the last day. It usually means I don’t feel strongly enough to pursue doing it. And after class tonight, writing that paper is by far the last thing I want to do. I don’t know how to write words about someone who’s work is “nice” but it just doesn’t speak to me. Even listening to him speak (well the translator) of his work did nothing for me. And sometimes that will happen I guess? I can’t really explain it, I don’t hate it… some of it is interesting but only because I know he didn’t use photoshop. Other than that I’d rather look at other things. So I’m not going to write it. Quit #1. Let’s count how many more times I quit this semester. I have a feeling it will be up there.

I think sleep might be my best bet.

Good Night.

pretty girls

I do not know how i once lived in a world that did not consist of the voice of Neko Case.

Her lyrics and melodies are perfection. And that VOICE.

she reminds me that the music industry still consists of true talent.

Thank You Neko.

-B

epiphany, it sounds like icicles breaking.

The first time I heard the word Epiphany was in that quote, from a lifetime movie about the life of Martha Moxley.  I never understood the quote, but the word epiphany had always stuck with me because I wondered what it was like to experience such a feeling.

Well since, I’ve had many in my day.

This week though, I had quite a few.

I put a lot of pressure on myself at school, with my work, especially while showing work in class.  Its not that I’m afraid of the critique, I actually love it.  I’m more afraid that my ideas won’t come across clearly or that I didn’t execute the photo as best possible the first time around.  In art failure is hugely a part of the process, I have the bad habit of trying to avoid the failure.  When brainstorming, shooting, editing, printing- I try my best to perfect it the first time around so that when it’s time to stand up there with my work I can proudly smile and be happy about it.  This rarely happens.  I always end up miserable by the time it’s on the wall or I’ve thought of ways to better it since shooting it.  By the end of last week I was so lost in my own thoughts that I refused to even put any thought into the project, half of me kept telling my brain to start thinking about ways to better it but my brain refused to think about it.  Which worked out because a couple days later in the shower (my number one place to think/brainstorm) ideas magically popped into my head and even though I couldn’t see the plans I was drawing out words and diagrams in the condensation on the shower wall and everything seemed to start making more sense.

During the days that I was ignoring the brainstorming the idea of dropping out of school kept popping into my head.  Not even that I was continuously thinking about it but that it just kept popping into my head like an evil little man sitting on my shoulder was whispering it into my ear.  I kept thinking that I could drop out, move to california and go to Groundlings and work my way up to SNL.  This may seem far-fetched but I’m a goal driven gal and I would do my best to make it happen.  You see dropping out would never be the end of the world for me, I’m not that person.

I went with my best friend to audition for The Real World.  This is where the epiphany part comes in, and ties everything together.  We went early because I had work at noon.  Well I’m not so great in the morning hours and even though we left early, we weren’t that early.  And they were slow.  The interview was interesting, a group of 10 people and 2 casting directors.  I won’t go into too much detail.  But at the end of the day I realized that after that process I don’t need The Real World the tv show.  Turns out I’m not what theyre looking for.  And its okay because I’m not looking for them either, I’m looking for the Real World.  The world where we work for our goals and not ones that are filed down to 7 (or now people by honchos from California.  I want to make it as a photographer and be recognized for my talent and not for the threesome I had on MTV. My intentions were good though, I thought if I made it to The Real World I could inspire someone like myself, because lets face it, I’m not like everyone else, and I’m perfectly happy with that.  Did you happen to catch this weeks episode of Parks and Recreation?  If you didn’t, there was a beauty pageant for the town’s best woman.  Lesley kept pushing the other judges to vote for the most well rounded smart candidate while the rest only wanted “the hott one” and when she could only convince one other judge to sway his decision she spoke of how it wasn’t the first or last time this would happen; where the deserved one loses to the “hott one”.  Enter epiphany of all of the above.

So where do I go from here?

From here I kick fucking ass in this semester project, in hopes of nailing an amazing internship in california.  Fully aware that it is a once in a lifetime chance.  And if I don’t get the internship, well I’ll have a killer portfolio.

I started thinking that maybe this summer I could get a job in California and live with friends while doing a class at Groundlings.

Why not right? You only live once.

B.

ps. I highly recommend seeing Away We Go.  the cast, the plot, the style of directing and editing, the soundtrack- Syntax.  Everything just came together perfectly for me.

my apologies

Dear reader,

there is simply not enough time in the day for me to blog.  And i’ve been thoroughly enjoying handwritten thoughts.  but I promise to make a worthy post soon.

and ps Death Cab for Cutie – Little Bribes is delightful on my ear drums.

and also! i’m excited to work on/ eventual unveil my semester long project for one of my classes, well i’m sure ill say the same for the other class too once that is underway.  i look forward to my portfolio at the end of semester, motivated, inspired, and ready for success. …motherfucker.

Bri

Bubbalicious

Bubbalicious, originally uploaded by Brianna Calello Photography.

I am well aware of my blogtastic absence the past several weeks… in all honesty i wasn’t in much a mood to publicly voice my thoughts. I have been writing else where, or just keeping the words within my own mind. I think I like the idea of having thoughts both private and public. I also didn’t have a lot on my mind besides the passing of my grandmother during my absence. What do you write after that happens? Maybe I’ll post a copy of the eulogy I wrote and read at her funeral.

Anyways, I’m trying to get back into the swing of school, but it’s a bit hard when you feel so distanced from such a place. I don’t think I feel part of the atmosphere because I’m out of the city, even though I was commuting last year I was coming from Brighton which is not only a part of Boston but its also just on the other side of Allston, a place so inhabited by artsy college students you sort of feel like it’s just one big campus infused with a gaggle of diverse 20 somethings looking for a good time after class. Hopefully in time I will get used to it, but for now I feel a lot like I did last year, only this time the faces are familiar.

Ciao Ciao for now.

Brianna

57

*the following was written via cell phone on a bus ride between Kenmore sq and Brighton, once again to the sounds of “Reckoner” by Radiohead*

What are we looking at when we gaze deeply at the world passing by us out of a bus or train window?  What about when we zone out completely at the person sitting across from us?  

Sure, we take in our environment and its’ endless details.  We are creating photographic memories that only our minds will ever actually be capable of visualizing.  The people on the outside going about their business; the ambitious college students on their daily jogs, the couple fighting… the couple loving, the man begging for change.  The store you always wanted to visit, the restaurant you always wanted to try.  

But really, we’re not looking at anything at all are we?  We’re thinking about our lives and the ways we can improve them.  We’re thinking about the tasks we have left to do to fill out our days.  We’re thinking about what to cook for dinner.

Maybe we’re wishing we could be on the other side of the window, or any window really… embracing the details. 

 

B.

Goodbye Brighton.

*the following was written on my cell phone after 20 minutes of sitting on my porch trying desperately to process my thoughts and being unsuccessful*

I sit on my front porch, the sounds of Reckoner [by Radiohead] at near full volume infuse my ear drums on a constant loop.  The tree across the street sways with the occasional breeze that blows by.  Flashes of every single moment lived since last September  flicker on the projection screen in my mind.  

Every laugh had with my roommates, every life changing conversation discussed, every mosh throwdown in the kitchen.  Every miserable moment seems now, not so miserable.  Flashes of moments spent with past loves; some rather left behind, some never forgotten.  Every photo edited, every idea jotted down, every walk to go tanning in the snow- because I’ll somehow never shake the Saugus girl in me.  Every walk home at midnight from a 45 minute agonizing train ride from selling t-shirts in the cold.  Every bowl smoked in a blizzard on the sketchiest back porch ever built, and every post toke ritual with Kate… the Roseanne episode “A Stash From The Past”.

It was about a year and a half ago when I blogged about moving from San Francisco.  I felt this great sense of who I was and further more who I was capable of becoming.  I think it’s more than safe to say that the image I had of myself that day in May 2008 is the person I am today.  I couldn’t be happier with the progress my work has had since. I understand my life and the world around me more clearly now than ever before.  I made mistakes that helped me grow and learn.  I made friends who taught me how to be a better person.  I gained a sense of independence far superior to what I thought I had gained upon moving 3000 miles away from every person I ever knew and loved.  

I continue to be a nomad… changing my surroundings similarly to how a chameleon changes its’ flesh.  Reluctantly reaching each new chapter of my life not as a hurtle, but as a stepping stone towards success.  Conquering each page fiercely and blowing the mind of every reader along the way.

I cannot be stopped.

B.

inspired by planet earth.

tweet, tweet, text, check facebook, im, im, call, tweet, text.

look up. look at the sky and the trees and the wonders of the earth all around us.  dont run from the rain, let it soak you until your bones shiver.

supposedly there was a meteor shower tonight (err this morning?) at 1am.  though i am slightly contradicting my previous words because had i not checked twitter i wouldn’t have known of the event. 

I sat on my small concrete porch, only big enough for two souls to sit and ponder their lives.  I held my knees and stared at the sky.  My view was interupted by the sodium vapor lights of the 5 level car garage just 50 feet across the way.  It was a rather foggy night as well, so the odds of me actually seeing such a show were becoming more of a desperate hope.  For some reason though, none of it mattered.  I listened to Say Anthing’s “I want to know your plans” and completely zoned out the sounds of cars screeching their tires- presumably because their drivers wanted to reach a family as soon as possible; I say this because there was a moment when I noticed a pilot getting into his car with a small piece of luggage.  I wondered where his shift flew him to today, and how long it took.  I wondered how long he had been gone for, and if he had kids… would they be excited to see Daddy pulling up in the driveway even at this hour of the night?  Maybe he didn’t have any of the above, but I hoped he did, and I hoped he saw me, and I hoped he knew that I was thinking great things for his life.  

I continued to gaze at the sky and allowed Max Beemis’s vocal chords to overwhelm my thoughts.  I thought about moving and leaving my roommates.  I thought about how much of an impact they’ve had on my life, and how I’m not sure if they are even aware of that.  I thought about living in this new place for a year, how I’m not sure my creativity will thrive in such a mundane environment, and how instant fear took over.  I thought about the Earth and how amazing it is, and how much more amazing it would be if it wasn’t covered in man-made shit.  I don’t think I was even out there for a whole 20 mintues, and yet it was one of the most therapeutic moments of my life. 

Eventually I saw meteors, maybe they weren’t real, but I like to hope they were.   

 

I found this right before I went outside to watch the shower, perfect timing?

<3

Brianna