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June 11 2017

The crickets chirping and frogs making those noises frogs make in swampy lands. I wrote you late at night, sent in the AM early morning, my nervousness sending energy to the tungsten lights, and to my feet. Wanting to run, wanting to go somewhere far away. Disappear in the marsh, sink into the bayou. Alligator teeth in a jar. Newspaper clippings in the mud. Wires wrapped up in the living trees, skeletal fishing boats melting away with the tide. Low, high. Memories, lives passed.
I’ve got mosquito bites that feel like heavenly little mounds, I scratch them happily with a grin, alligator teeth. All the shapes and scary scenes in the night have always looked like friends to me here. Some storybook to open up, every sunset a new chapter, every stranger a life. Ropes tied around a chair. Lights flickering on and off. Knowing looks. A faraway room with the curtains drawn.

I let go and creep inside to hear my grandmother snoring lightly. I fade.

In the morning I heard her whispering something to her husband who has passed, or god maybe. A conversation I’m not supposed to be a part of. Someone responds back, but there’s no one else in the room. I fade.


I tug at my shoelaces. I push repeat on the song. I run. Slooow strumming, muggy air.
You wrote back.

Why do we need validation to be these nothing fictitious things? I’m the shapes in the night. Memories of a big black dog in a vision, red tongued. I forget these things in the daylight when my mom is running errands and my dad has left for work already. A horse calls me over when I pass by her home, but the ‘no trespassing’ signs keeps me from crossing into her world. We watch each other for a while. We both become memories for the other, and I walk back to the bayou. I turn the song off.

June 10 2017

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brittanieloren:

Keyport, WA (35mm, Diana f+)
Brittanie Loren, 2017
www.beyourpet.com

Double exposures and light leaks. I love toy cameras.

June 08 2017

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Just picked up my latest 3 rolls of 35mm film negatives shot with my Diana f+! Got them all scanned already, so now I just need to find the time to upload them. Some pretty good stuff, not a lot of blanks, luckily. I need to figure out how to scan with the sprocket holes so I can get more of the actual image…

I’m going to try to be fairly consistent about uploading film photos from now on.

June 07 2017

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brittanieloren:

Keyport, WA (35mm, Diana f+)
Brittanie Loren, 2017
www.beyourpet.com

June 05 2017

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brittanieloren:

Keyport, WA (35mm, Diana f+)
Brittanie Loren, 2017
www.beyourpet.com

June 04 2017

Update:
I have been an an art hiatus for several years now, but am slowly coming back into the creative realm, feeling more sure of what I want to make and put out into the world. My art has been changing a lot recently. I’ve been getting into film and experimental mediums. Please bear with me while my online presence shifts with that change, it might be a bit messy.

I avidly document my life and art process, feel free to contact me for my personal links.

Please go to brittanieloren.tumblr.com to follow my work.

June 03 2017

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brittanieloren:

Keyport, WA (35mm, Diana f+)
Brittanie Loren, 2017
www.beyourpet.com

June 02 2017

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Just got three rolls of film back. Already scanned them. Just dropped off another three, which should turn out even better because I remembered to take the lens cap off about 95% of the time with those…

May 21 2017

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Wait until summer, things will change.

Circa June 2006.

May 20 2017

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Cardboard cut-out thief with a burlap sack.

Nothing is real.

Circa June 2006.

May 19 2017

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faetus:

DISSOCIATION print 2017

May 18 2017

Do you ever just feel like throwing your life away and starting fresh? I’m worn out and overdrawn. When I remember past lives there’s a calm and a tug towards escaping into something that never was. What does that mean? Is life a fiction? I remember sounds and places, smells. Feelings. They happened inside of another moment. A blank wall. A shower running. An empty waiting room, or the corner behind the door. Where the paint is peeling just a little, just a lot. Between notebook pages and nowhere, and everywhere.

I have had a bookmark on sunny fields and dark bedrooms for 15 years. The animals have long since gone. I thought things would change overtime if I just used the right colors, the right words. I’ll become her. Pronouns mean nothing when you’re skipping heartbeats.

I forget a lot about the past. I change it to suit my mood, suit my years. Sculpt a man from clay, from gold, from dirt. Dirt on both cheeks. Both knees.

My bruises have long since faded.

There’s a girl’s bedroom 20 years ago, wood floors scratched up, oldies music playing from the radio. Film canisters scattering the hallway. A book about local haunts that her mother wrote and Xeroxed, spiral bound. Boxes of unsold copies, black and white and smelled like thick ink. There was a rabbit hutch and a plum tree out back. We ate the plums. I remember when her dog died and she came to us crying. These are real memories.

So much time has passed. Every friend leaves. You’re left with yourself. Always getting to know this new version, this changed version, faded. Like too many copies of a book you wrote that no one wanted.

A bird sings from a tiny cage in a tiny house in a field you can see from the road. This is not my life. A sickening nostalgia for an image that once flashed across a screen. You’re left a husk. A no one. A nothing.

I defeat. I’m defeated.

Maybe a library will keep a copy for record.

May 17 2017

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goldenprairies:

saint annee mission

May 16 2017

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In case anyone wants to know, I reblog a lot of content that inspires my art over here @rabbitgirlstory

May 15 2017

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Scanning negatives. I scanned over 200 photos. Now I just need to edit and post them…

The scanner has a setting called “Auto Exposure” and this is what it looks like when it’s turned on (the one on the right is turned on, left is turned off). Need to play around with settings and make sure I like the auto exposure…

May 14 2017

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My grandparents and my siblings and I. I’m the one rubbing my eye.
Photo probably taken by my mom.

May 13 2017

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How old do I have to be?

Circa 2006.

May 12 2017

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My eighteenth birthday. I don’t remember if I woke up and these balloons were here, or if I came home from school and these balloons were here. Either way, my mom put them in my room and they floated up. 12 ft ceilings in our 115 year old house. I miss that house so much. For that birthday I think I got a Polaroid camera (right before they went out of business, I only I got to use it a couple of times before the film was scarce and expensive) and The Virgin Suicides book, which is still one of my favorites.
eighteen was a rough and weird year.
That was eleven years ago today.

April 28 2017

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I just wanted to mention to anyone following this blog that I also have a more personal blog that I update daily. I post a lot of photos from my everyday life, a lot less artsy stuff, and a lot of random things that I like (anime, video games, hah, that sorta stuff). So it won’t be for everyone… But if you’re interested in following that please send me a message and ask me for the link. I want to retain a small modicum of privacy, which is why I’m not posting the link up for just anyone to see it.

April 26 2017

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