Reading one’s own writing from years ago is among the more uncomfortable activities one can subject oneself to – similar in sensation to teeth-cleaning at the dentist, Chinese acupressure massage, halasana after a whole day at your computer. Though I doubt there are any long-term health benefits of reading my 19-year-old self wade through too many adjectives and trains of thought at the same time. I forcibly spent my Tuesday going through this site’s archive of published pieces to do boring things like fixing formatting that got scrambled during the five website updates I’ve had since the beginning. Predictably, it was as painful as it was hilarious.
In the same vein, I recorded the voiceover for this particular motion piece under a blanket in the closet at The Standard on Sunset Boulevard. It took me an hour and a half to give you a minute and a half of me trying my darnedest not to cackle (primarily due to my hating the sound of my own voice). The foreword to my book of photo essays is dense to say the least, but years on, the underlying principles still retain conceptual value as well as some eerie foreshadowing – unlike the oldest articles published on this website. We shot this in disparate half days across three continents with three different teams who knew not about the context nor Margaret under a blanket in the closet of The Standard in Hollywood.