“Folded into myself,” Photography by @KitsuSun. open edition, collected by @seeimagery and you?
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GM Friends ☀️, #black coffee ☕, this is an exercise of writing. Occasionally (mostly when I feel like it), I’ll highlight a piece of art I’ve collected on my NFT journey. The art will not necessarily be my inspiration or focus, but more a catalyst of ideas where I let my thoughts flow, like black coffee, raw and unstirred.
#blackcoffee – No beginning, no end – just a hidden being. – @KitsuSun
There’s something about veils. Not the wedding kind. Not the ghostly Halloween ones either but I like those.
I mean the soft blur between what’s shown and what’s not.
The Hidden.
That’s what makes a great story.
Like this piece. A photograph? Yes. But not mine. Doesn’t matter though.
It has a secret and I respect that.
Because I get it.
That feeling of being folded into myself.
There are days I want to wrap myself in metaphorical veil and hide out in soft blur of someone else’s memories.
Maybe someone with a plan.
Someone who doesn’t open their fridge and stare inside it for 57 seconds, before retreating to the cold arms of indecision.
I guess this is what I’m doing with #blackcoffee. Just… showing up with no sugar. No polish.
I haven’t even brushed my teeth yet.
I’ll do it after.
After the coffee.
The truth? I didn’t intend to write about this photo. But then I did.
I collected it because it made me feel something uncomfortable.
There’s a gentle ache in it. Soft. Blurry. Like bruises that never really show up but never go away either.
It reminds me of the days I used to write poetry. Mostly dark.
You know, brooding.
Oh yes, I liked to make it seem like everything was pointless.
The world sucked.
People sucked.
And everything around me sucked.
Writing about myself, my shadow, my blur.
I guess it helped me believe I was still here. That I had edges even if they were a little jaded.
That I was visible and hadn’t faded into the veil and beyond the pale.
Not yet anyway.
But then that became boring.
Anxiety is boring, depression is boring, and being shy, so fucking boring.
I’m probably projecting. But who cares. That’s the whole point of this exercise.
I’m not writing about the art, I’m writing around it.
Like my pug Penny.
She likes to do circles and circles before flopping down in a spot with a sigh that feels existential.
Sometimes, when the day is really heavy, she’ll force spit out her nose to really emphasize how hopeless it all is.
“I really wanted another treat Dad, how dare you!”
Yeah, that’s her talking.
Anyway. What was I saying?
Oh yeah, back to veils.
They’re safe. Until they aren’t.
You see, that day will come when wearing the veil becomes its own kind of exposure.
Covered up for so long, you forget the days of long ago.
The days when you were exposed, naked and bare.
Then one day someone says something small.
It might feel trivial, stupid even, but for some reason it repeats in your head.
You carry it from day to day like it’s your burden to carry.
The words shifting and digging into your back, slicing through the gauze.
And then suddenly, hiding feels loud.
Almost theatrical. Like the veil is screaming louder than your naked skin ever did.
Maybe I should take this thing off?
We don’t talk about that kind of visibility.
Especially not in the NFT space where everyone’s busy being “On.”
Presenting.
Performing.
Posting. Me, me, me, look at me.
LOOK AT ME!
Wondering if I should mint or burn something today.
Choices, feels kind of chaotic.
I guess that’s why I like doing this. This little #blackcoffee thing.
It’s not about curation. It’s not even really about the art.
It’s just about showing up when my head is full of digital noise and the world feels loud.
I guess just to let that weirdness leak out in words.
Unfiltered. Like a second cup of coffee I didn’t plan on but poured anyway.
OK fine, I planned it.
Even though I know it’s going to make me tremble. It’s going to give my hands a voice of their own.
One that is not steady, but cracked.
Fuck it though.
Some days it’s gonna be raw and soft. Other days it might be full of teeth.
Today? We talked about veils. The kind you don’t even realize you’re wearing until someone (or something) holds up a mirror.
Like this JPEG. Want to collect it? Here’s that link: Folded Into Myself on @objkt
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