Weekly Photo Challenge: Inside

Where do we go when we die on the inside?
basquiatDo we rupture our attachment to family? Our daily bread?
1basquiatOur ability to mimic breath?
bas-no-relief-3Jean-Michel Basquiat died of a heroin overdose at the age of 27 in 1988.


37 thoughts on “Weekly Photo Challenge: Inside

    1. Annette, thank you for your acute observation. Over the years, Basquiat has got under my skin. For one reason or another… I just found a way to express my perception of his disintegration.

  1. You would be kept very busy, Michele la belle, marking all such terrible and wasteful departures … I hope he was not someone personally known to you. I lost a sister in somewhat similar circumstances.

    1. So saddened to hear about the loss of your sister. I didn’t get to meet Basquiat but his life experiences resonate with me. There are some intersections in our story. I am still thinking about your words “terrible and wasteful departures….” I have a feeling your response will spark another creative journey. Thank you for visiting my blog. All best wishes, Michele

  2. Michele, I can’t quite find the words for what I wish to express for this post, only that you ‘nailed it’ whatever it is…. the enigma, mystery and rawness of the naked question: “where do we go when we die inside?” I think it’s a question I’ll never forget.

    1. Hanne, thank you for your incredible response and your appreciation of the places I’m seeking to excavate. The rawness, the mystery and the enigma… That’s it exactly! I have no memory of either my mother or my father. Not exactly sure who was there with me at the beginning of my life… This mystery is one of the reasons why my work is as it is… I think you will understand this? “Where do we go when we die inside?” I would love to see your creative interpretation of this question!! Thank you again for being there. Md

      1. Michele, thank you for sharing that part of yourself. I feel beautifully humbled by it And yes, I think I understand it, on an energetic level. It’s immensely powerful and it feels very very pure. I know that can be an odd word in this context, but your excavating and expression holds strong and beautiful pureness. I get the image, of you not knowing who was there in the beginning of your life, have made you capable of keeping an empty pure space to create from. As if you haven’t filled it up with stories but you’ve managed to keep it open to the mystery and enigma in it’s utter naked rawness. It appears to me, you always work from a clean slate, a pure space from where you see the world, express yourself from. It sounds bizarre perhaps as I write it, but it’s what I ‘see’…. Thank you, for being you!

      2. Hanne, corresponding with you is so life-affirming. I want to say that we’re talking over the garden fence having lived next door to each other — and been neighbours — for countless years! In any case, there is no time… We just continue where we left off. Thank you for bringing your empathetic understanding of the ‘clean slate’ and the ‘utter naked rawness’. For companionship, there is the blank canvas. Every day I invent myself again… there are so few reminders… mirrors of the faces of relatives. No, I just fall to Earth — pick up a camera, pick up a pen… I ‘see’ you in Ireland with the Burren horses. Your spiritual journey adds another algorithm to the enigma. Thank you for being you!

      3. Michele, I can only say likewise. Life-affirming in depths.
        I love your image of us talking over the garden fence! Our correspondence has the feeling of; “ah, there you are!” 🙂
        Exactly Michele, everyday you invent yourself. That’s immensely beautiful and powerful in it’s own humble way, hence why you continue to have a pure eye to the world and you reflect that back to it through your art and walk in life.
        Can’t wait till the day we’ll meet for coffee!

      4. Hanne, thank you for even considering the question! No pressure at all 🙂 But your photographs and poems always take me ‘inside’ to explore hitherto unknown territory. That’s all 🙂

      5. I feel no pressure at all. I’m only intrigued by what might come out of it. I love to have a sentence or a feeling work it’s way in words and then a photo will pop up, or the other way around. This one will take some, is my sense. There’s so much in it that will find it’s complex way to an art of simplicity. I hope 🙂

  3. A tragic end for such a creative artist. It seems that some people are like meteors, flash through the night sky then fall to earth with a thump. By the look of his art he was definitely aware of any emptiness within himself. Great post Michele.

    1. Laurie, thank you for your kind words and thoughtful observations. “Some people are like meteors, flash through the night sky then fall to earth…” How we reconcile light and dark?

      1. You’re welcome Michele. I think we all have a dark side, it’s all about how much of it, if any that we let out. Many artists have used drugs, whether it’s to escape from reality (reality isn’t all it’s cracked up to be) or find a deeper meaning to their art. I don’t know but it seems he went the way of many heroin users. Sad.

  4. He was an amazing artist. Some people just can’t make it here, in the real world, in life. From what I’ve read and seen about him he was a nice person, a little shy and passionate about his work. He had a voice and he is missed.

  5. Thoughtful and in a peculiar way inspiring – an inner death and also an internal “death struggle” is the most gruesome to watch – often so we would like to do the best we can – but what is right – instead we can easily get to do it wrong – very powerful photos…

    1. I am very moved by your response. You say some key things about ‘an internal death struggle’ and a feeling that hints at inspiration. Basquiat found his voice, his motive and his medium. He is a point of contact with ‘the road less traveled.’

      Two roads diverged in a wood, and I—
      I took the one less traveled by,
      And that has made all the difference.

      (Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken)

  6. Some amazing work here – very thought provoking, I can relate to this due to a relative lost this way as well, the visuals are very powerful.

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