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Craven Art by Rebecca Tillett

On Saturday I shot a wonderful Denver-based artist who hired me to take some portraits of her in her studio. Angela Craven is a beautiful, funny, and interesting abstract painter in her free time and a software designer m-f to pay the bills. And I am exceedingly jealous of her studio space. A big open sunroom that's gorgeous, bright and open. I've never been hired for a shoot of this kind so I was really excited to do it and I'm thrilled with the results.

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Love Hurts by Rebecca Tillett

“People are afraid of themselves, of their own reality; their feelings most of all. People talk about how great love is, but that’s bullshit. Love hurts. Feelings are disturbing. People are taught that pain is evil and dangerous. How can they deal with love if they’re afraid to feel? Pain is meant to wake us up. People try to hide their pain. But they’re wrong. Pain is something to carry, like a radio. You feel your strength in the experience of pain. It’s all in how you carry it. That’s what matters. Pain is a feeling. Your feelings are a part of you. Your own reality. If you feel ashamed of them, and hide them, you’re letting society destroy your reality. You should stand up for your right to feel your pain.” ―Jim Morrison

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The Pale Blue Dot by Rebecca Tillett

I'm not sure why I'm posting it here. Something about it resonated with me. I feel such sadness over it. I'm reminded of my dad, of Adam. Either of them could have written this comment. Though I'm mostly thankful for it, I sometimes resent that I've spent my entire life surrounded by people who can't take their eyes off the bigger picture, even just long enough to appreciate the smaller one - just for a moment.

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A Good Person in the World by Rebecca Tillett

The world must’ve seemed such a hostile place. It’s no wonder he could barely contain his rage and he tried all the ways he knew how to escape. Gosh, it’s amazing he held it together as much as he did. Yet you see him in photos and he was such a handsome vibrant person. My mom said that he had such potential, creative and artistic and otherwise. I remember him as having such a sense of humor, such a wry wit.

But what it all did to you.

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Glamorous and Romantic People by Rebecca Tillett

I remember when your dad and mom came up. I was fairly young. Oh, I thought they were the most glamorous and romantic people! Of course I knew Clay a little growing up (more on that later) but your mom. Wow. I thought she was the most gorgeous person! She had the most beautiful black/dark brown hair, and one time she got it highlighted with blue! I found that fabulous and shocking. And her accent – with a slight lisp, if I remember right. Even then I felt sorry for them, though, because Clay had never fit at the ranch and here he was with his new bride. 

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Moon (this is where I am these days) by Rebecca Tillett

"The Moon is a white strange world, great, white, soft-seeming globe in the night sky, and what she actually communicates to me across space I shall never fully know. But the Moon that pulls the tides, and the Moon that controls the menstrual periods of women, and the Moon that touches the lunatics, she is not the mere dead lump of the astronomist. . . . When we describe the Moon as dead, we are describing the deadness in ourselves. When we find space so hideously void, we are describing our own unbearable emptiness." —D.H. Lawrence

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You Should Date An Illiterate Girl by Rebecca Tillett

"Date a girl who doesn’t read. Find her in the weary squalor of a Midwestern bar. Find her in the smoke, drunken sweat, and varicolored light of an upscale nightclub. Wherever you find her, find her smiling. Make sure that it lingers when the people that are talking to her look away. Engage her with unsentimental trivialities. Use pick-up lines and laugh inwardly. Take her outside when the night overstays its welcome. Ignore the palpable weight of fatigue. Kiss her in the rain under the weak glow of a streetlamp because you’ve seen it in film. Remark at its lack of significance. Take her to your apartment. Dispatch with making love. Fuck her." Charles Warnke

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