Found 2-D Haiku Collages
While digging around for something in my workroom I came… ahem… sorry, I came across a couple projects I did in college for a 2-D design class. I’m guessing the project was to write a haiku, then make a collage inspired by it using a 7×7 grid of one inch squares of paper torn from a magazine. I’m not posting them because they’re good or interesting, I just wanted to post something before I start losing readers.
In case you can’t read the text in the barely legible typeface…
Sideways down the road
Bright lights and crushed metal spin
My bloddy glass face
I also found my final exam for the same class. I don’t think the professor wrote this comment, it must have been one of my fellow students — everyone thought I was a over-achieving know-it-all.
Framed
I found this in the archives today, and it reminds me that I need models.
Filed Under: Archives + Photography
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Ceci n'est pas une pipe
![René Magritte. La trahison des images (The Treachery [or Perfidy] of Images), 1928–29.](http://www.srwild.com/images/193.jpg "René Magritte. La trahison des images (The Treachery [or Perfidy] of Images), 1928–29.")
This blog is only a few months old and I’m already doing reruns—sort of. A few years ago I made a feeble attempt at blogging. While digging through my archives, I found a disk with all the previous versions of srwild.com and the three blog entries I posted.
August 24, 2002
I was at a convenience store, buying a pack of smokes. The cashier asked for my ID. I pulled it out of my wallet and handed it to her. The photo was taken when I had longer hair and a beard—it looked like a redheaded mugshot of Charles Manson.
She examined my ID, then me, then my ID again. “Is this you?”
“No. It’s a picture of me.”
“Wh… wh… what do you mean?”
“Nevermind.”
Reading this reminded me of a another tobacco-related performance I did last summer while walking home one night. Up the street, a group of college kids were hanging out in front of a house. The loudest girl saw me and the cigarette I was smoking. I can always tell when someone is going to ask for a cigarette because it happens all the time.
“Excuse me. Do you have a cigarette?”
I looked at the cigarette in my hand. “Yes,” I replied, and walked past them.
She paused for a moment. “No, I meant do you have a cigarette I can have?”
I turned around, walking backwards. “No,” I said, turned back around and continued on my way.
I stole this from a friend of mine, whenever a panhandler says, “spare change?” I always say, “No, thank you.”