html xmlns:og='http://ogp.me/ns#' xmlns:expr='http://www.google.com/2005/gml/expr'> Lounging at the Waldorf: Art is...Insecure

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Saturday, April 26, 2014

Art is...Insecure

Let me start out by saying this - I don't lose things. I've never lost a watch, a bracelet, or sunglasses. Last time I lost keys, I was in high school. Same holds true for a wallet, a book, or gym clothes. When you're not raised with a lot, you tend to keep your possessions on lockdown. I'm not counting items like earrings (if they fall out of your ear on the dance floor) or socks (everyone knows God takes those back as some kind of payment for being on this earth) or the temporarily misplaced item. Why, just few days ago, I thought I lost a new "Clinique Almost Lipstick" in Black Honey (seriously, it looks good on everyone) but I found it in the medicine cabinet this morning. And that's how it usually goes. It's out of my sight for a spell but, like a Jewish law, order is restored by the second sunset.

This unfamiliarity with a thing suddenly not being mine is just one of the many reasons why losing my journal this week is the crappiest crap ever.

Failures. Triumphs. Pep talks. Savings goals. Character sketches. Plans. Promises. Insecurities. Shame. It was all kept in a 5 1/2 x 8" black binder in my purse. I wrote in it daily, honestly, and now it's part of the landscape of this damn city. No one shares this stuff, this uncomfortable goo that makes us human. Except maybe Steve Rosenfield's subjects. He's made a whole project of people's deepest fears and flaws.

Steve Rosenfield
Steve Rosenfield
Steve Rosenfield
Steve Rosenfield

 "If it was private," you may be asking yourself, "why was it in your purse?" I don't know! It seems so stupid now.

Steve Rosenfield
Steve Rosenfield
Steve Rosenfield
Steve Rosenfield

Did I leave it at the market? The drug store? The train? Oh, please don't let it be in a conference room at my work or being laughed in the break room at The Gap or being turned into a cruel You Tube video by an NYU student. Please don't make fun of my insides.

Steve Rosenfield
Steve Rosenfield
Steve Rosenfield

But I have to say, I've taken comfort in these pictures. Why do I always feel so alone? I'm not alone. Everyone is holding onto some hurt. Maybe by losing the journal, I'm not holding on anymore. Maybe I've shed what was in there.

Steve Rosenfield

All images by Steve Rosenfield








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