Mike Sinclair and I (@wheelhousereview) were in Marcus Cain’s studio this week. (Taken with Instagram)
Art cars at Burning Man.
Black Rock City, NV - August 2012
There’s a passage in the Salman Rushdie book The Ground Beneath Her Feet that talks about people who don’t belong to any one place and have to keep moving, and reading it was like feeling, oh, I’m not the only one.
AB: It was a sad moment. It was one of the most beautiful moments of my life, but it was also a sad one. It was a selfish moment. I’ve talked elsewhere about there are times in your life… I’ll use the example of you’re standing alone in the desert, and you see the most incredible sunset you’ve ever seen and your first instinct is to turn to your left or right and say, “Wow, do you see that?” Okay, there’s no one there, what do you do? Next, where’s the camera? Look through the viewfinder and you realize you know, what you see through that little box is not what you’re experiencing. There comes this terrible moment when you realize well, this is for me. There is no sharing this. Worse: if you try to share it with old friends or someone you love it’s almost an insult. “How was your day?” “Well, we did three hundred covers tonight, somebody sent back a steak…” “Well, in the Sahara there was this sunset and you wouldn’t believe it.” You know? Fuck you.