Ivo sent in two stunning pictures a couple days ago. This one, and Orwell 1984. I had a hard time choosing between the two. (He actually sent in three. I was going to make the nude he sent a daily pic as well, which was one reason I went with the horse pic. But then I remembered that the nude was his too. Phenomenal. A talented man, Mr. Coric. Right at home on P1xels.)
I love the implicit explosive energy of this street shot. Great composition. The stone paving, the huge, black, beautifully muscled horse, the statue in the background, the old man in white, the clouds tufting the sky. An excellent shot, and the desaturation to grey scale works perfectly to bring forth the power of this image.
Redhead Tells The Sun by Knox Bronson. The found footage is from a short film, Dream of the Wild Horses, which won the award for best short at the Cannes Film Festival in 1963. I saw it many years ago in a San Francisco nightclub: an SF electronic band, The Units, projected it on a screen for their finale, their song Cowboy. They were opening for the Psychedelic Furs’ first appearance in San Francisco.
I have in the past year completely redone this piece of music, which I wrote for a red-headed psychic I dated briefly a while back in LA: she counted Eminem, the cast of Sex and the City, and George Lucas among her clients. I never asked her if he had run Jar Jar Binks by her for approval and I still regret this oversight on my part.
When I get the final arrangement of the new Redhead Tells The Sun finished—the bassline still needs massive work—I have told myself that I might redo the film edit as well. As far as the psychic goes, after a couple days around her, I knew I was dealing with someone with a foot on the other side. A fascinating woman, to say the least. I wish we were still in touch.