tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-12809293591493788952012-02-16T10:49:04.120-08:00All work copyright Brittanie Jones unless otherwise stated. Please view my portfolio website at www.brittaniejones.comBrittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.comBlogger831100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-90368090741173136902011-12-12T18:18:00.000-08:002011-12-12T18:22:05.646-08:00

Want to do a christmas card/print... Which one?!?!

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-19120592786843585562011-12-12T18:01:00.000-08:002011-12-12T18:07:50.529-08:00

Sometimes my photography is super self serving. Say CHEESE

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-34153555982917562352011-12-12T08:23:00.001-08:002011-12-12T08:32:27.680-08:00

When my aunt passed away last year, I smuggled the family spoons out of her basement, keeping them in the original stone mason jar that I found them in. They just reminded me of when I was a child, and I couldn't for the life of me figure out why a spoon would be so small.I pulled out these spoons recently to photograph them and study them.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-5078692560601185092011-12-12T08:20:00.000-08:002011-12-12T08:23:06.377-08:00

I haven't updated this in quite a while, but life is pretty different since my last post. I've had my usual ups and downs. Surviving as an adult is harder than it looks. But we gotta hold on to what we've got, it doesn't make a difference if we make it or not... I had to :3Anyway, I thought I'd just give a little precursor to the photo dump that may be happening in the next few weeks.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-2178064036894523612011-03-31T13:12:00.000-07:002011-03-31T13:28:36.531-07:00

Over the last year, I have tapped into a very textural vein in my work. Obsession with layering and combining these textures has led me to taking targeted images. As I began building an archive of these degraded, rough, tactile photographs, I started thinking about what texture means to me. I realized that the aspect of texture that I enjoy so much is the way an object’s surface displays the

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-22192996877818860802011-01-22T15:52:00.001-08:002011-01-22T16:13:38.385-08:00

Some of my favorite beasties are 18% grey. Does that make me too into photography?

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-16797361002778873542011-01-22T13:40:00.001-08:002011-01-22T13:42:23.403-08:00

Find it, reaching upwards.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-49033847040702209742011-01-03T13:58:00.001-08:002011-01-03T14:12:33.908-08:00

Coming now into this new place, this new life, startlingly brings to focus the vastness and infinite nature of living. This void is empty, like each way that I look, I have no options, but yet I have all options at once. I am the center point, from which I can walk in any direction, yet there are so few directions that I want to start stepping towards. And I hate the feeling of being pushed. Go

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-31374315025552029152010-12-09T09:49:00.000-08:002010-12-09T09:54:00.312-08:00

I am walking down a hallway in the house that I have never been down before. It is creaky and dusty. I open a red wood door. the roof is slanted, there are cobwebs dusting down from the ceiling. My perception of time slows to a crawl. I see a rat trap. A rat walks over it a few times, sniffing, not touching the trigger. At the last second, his toe brushes against the right spot and his neck is

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-10977301450289112082010-12-08T08:45:00.000-08:002010-12-08T08:56:13.547-08:00

I am a man in this dream, a doctor. Another doctor needs my help in order to make a man's death appear to be of natural causes. I am laying on a small hill, amoung a stand of autumn trees. Down the slope a short distance is a lake, large enough to have its own waves. There are three people swimming in this lake, a man and two women, a blonde and a thin brunette. Observing them, I pick up a

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-16686847334614750152010-11-30T23:28:00.000-08:002010-11-30T23:32:19.412-08:00

When we come togetherIt's moreThan just the physical worldThat we greet each other inWe are transcendentOne being in two bodiesThe right hand clasping the leftThe fingers of our energies interlacedWe are a fork in the universeA divergent placeTwo riversFlowing into one.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-58259848380001956972010-11-27T10:14:00.001-08:002010-11-27T10:34:40.134-08:00

This post is to honor my great aunt Alice C. Whitcombe, who passed away recently. She lived a long life, full of friends and family whom she cared deeply about, often more than herself. She passed away in my family's home, and will be remembered always for her caring contributions to the lives of everyone she was close to.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-4006252756191632752010-10-26T20:31:00.000-07:002010-10-26T21:08:35.887-07:00

I am an emotional blockageA crushed block of scrap metalWaiting for the thick crunch of a shutter to release meI feel myself pressing eagerly against floodgatesYet terrified;What if, behind that wall, there is nothing?Could I be that could steel wall in itself?My rusted spots crusting up under someone's fingernailsInching deep down into the soft skin I once hadI am the feeling of looking

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-7961343691557714962010-10-14T20:17:00.000-07:002010-10-14T20:21:22.290-07:00

Like two spoonsWe lock togetherCradled, we are a matching setLike silverOur love glints in the darkShining, we are twin starsSo close togetherThat we appearAs one.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-76844785854916022112010-10-11T22:38:00.000-07:002010-10-11T23:02:55.231-07:00

You're sweet as pieBut the devil in your eyeIs lookin me up and downLike I'm ripe for the pickin'There's a wicked cryI'm keepin' locked insideOnly you've got the keySo come let it outWhen these apples fallYou'll try to catch them allBut in your handsThey catch alight

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-29897933454666238602010-10-08T10:30:00.001-07:002010-10-08T10:31:18.898-07:00

Brittanie Jones Eng 333 Friday, October 8, 2010 In Dante’s La Vita Nuova, we can see the culmination and further evolution of a century and a half of the troubadour tradition. Medieval concepts of women are very standardized by this time; a woman of nobility is idolized, a love triangle is formed between the Lord, his lady, and the poet. The poet worships her, yet there is no

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-81559797426550514062010-10-05T09:39:00.000-07:002010-10-05T09:40:08.869-07:00

Brittanie JonesOctober 5th 2010 ANTH 263 Fall 2010 To be an Inca in modern Peru is to be a patchwork quilt of identities. From the seat of the old Incan Empire, in Cusco, radiating outwards like the beams of the sun that granted life to the Inca’s crops and herds; there are many peoples who call upon the old kingdom in describing their heritage and parts of their current way of life

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-49018005078888283302010-09-27T10:38:00.001-07:002010-09-27T10:38:54.899-07:00

Brittanie Jones September 26, 2010 Response to The Women Troubadours As I read through the poems, I found it hard to grasp the full poetic impact of the words, due to the very literal translation. When I attempted to read through the originals, I found that not having a background in anything, excepting Spanish, made them less than helpful for sleuthing out any of what I

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-76939151358483578552010-09-21T08:36:00.000-07:002010-09-21T08:54:15.878-07:00

Evolutionary Novelty. Is our love an evolution? Through ages of beings Holding each other in the black Ape hands laced together For the first time Stars shining in the dark eyes of our ancestors Young chimps climbing trees and dreaming of that strangeness Growing up into our time Is the collapsing warmth brewing in my chestDescendant from another era?Millenia ago,

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-14315637442529284022010-09-07T22:28:00.000-07:002010-09-07T22:30:23.633-07:00

What does the beginning of forever feel like?How do you know that something good will last into the endless twists and turns, the eagle dance of fate and time plunging forever from the sky?Its carved into trees, abbreviated, grown over. Your initials next to mine, smiling back at the sun against decades of its rays. How can I even hope for it? What does forever feel like? The beginning of love,

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-7569964893940322372010-07-04T11:10:00.000-07:002010-07-04T11:20:14.794-07:00

stain my insides with your coffee colored versesthough I think those kinds of words are purposelessi'm breathing mold and choking gasping hard against the knowing i was wrongpour your oily words back down my throatthe attention stops me thinking that I'm brokenot broken down by money but justweighted down by years and years ofmistakes losses faking smiles and tears and laughter genuine and

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-89994959884605365872010-06-21T01:38:00.001-07:002010-06-21T01:38:53.494-07:00

All I have left is a ghost of you. You are a dream burned under my skin.Your outline, dancing, seared behind my eyelids.I'm waiting for the sands of time to scrub the pain of these vivid memories from my mind.Touching, touching, touching.Fire is in my chest right where I've inked it.I'm burning in these chains of memoryTrapped in the time we hadFighting through the muddy presentBut all I have

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-56114362056103466022010-05-29T14:36:00.000-07:002010-05-29T14:41:22.117-07:00

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-19358509704014122272010-05-24T21:36:00.001-07:002010-05-24T21:46:45.995-07:00

So I've taken an interest in the chatroulette phenomenon. It sparks a weird curiosity in me. I just need to know. Who are you? What does it take to make you laugh? What does your face look like behind your penis?I'm compiling a data base of screenshots. Might try to title by location when relevant.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-76583999390319844292010-05-11T23:03:00.001-07:002010-05-11T23:07:46.982-07:00

The fallen hero lay dejected, the side of his face pressed into the gritty mud, rain gathering in the shell of his upturned ear. It almost drowned out the sounds of laughter. His closed eyes could shut out the pointed fingers, the disappointed stares, but the sounds of disapproval still permeated him. "This is a shit show." He confirmed out loud, pushing himself away from the ground and standing

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-34294218584477531202010-04-28T16:10:00.000-07:002010-04-28T16:48:16.726-07:00

Feels like being walked off plankForced with knifetip at backPressed in just enough to stingFeel itchy trickleTickling step by step towards precipiceEdge of unknownDive into oblivionInto greenInto sea

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-24051613033148656772010-04-25T10:31:00.000-07:002010-04-25T10:36:14.549-07:00

Counting down days is an art formA pencil to the paper of time A sensor burning current events into history Everything left behind is a relic An homage to days gone by

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-3787043998333419462010-04-15T09:37:00.000-07:002010-04-15T09:42:42.474-07:00

Breathing is easy in binary.Inhale, Zero.Exhale, One.On, off.Two simple choices which fuse togetherMapping the complex in strings of simplicityChoking on these easy answersTo unworded questionsWhich brewBut are stolenSucked out of me by this possessive etherWhile I struggle and sitWrapped inside the bonds of binary.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-40906138423789549602010-03-22T21:19:00.001-07:002010-03-23T12:45:36.126-07:00

Brittanie JonesCaught in BetweenSwirls of red coiled delicately over smooth, nutmeg contours. The round nub of a fingertip daubed carefully into a warm earthen vessel. The man’s finger gathered the metallic substance into the grooves and crevices of that primitive brush, and then spread the maize and blood mixture in channels of power onto the mask of the man's face.A man he was, in that moment,

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-89480164792451325192010-03-22T08:38:00.001-07:002010-03-22T08:57:27.918-07:00

BodyNose and Size Images taken from google.While I was sleeping this morning, I dreamt a great epic (as I usually do when I dream).Unfortunately, much like a life, one only remembers the bits an pieces that stand out.I followed my art history teacher through the canyons and the desert on all fours, running like a coyote. When we crested a hill, she looked back at me as though she was surprised at

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-53449284579832504882010-03-02T00:52:00.000-08:002010-03-02T00:59:21.732-08:00

image copyright Justin Kerr @ www.mayavase.com Quivering canyons of fibrous ice surrounded the dead black holes of a calculating iris. The rippling ridges were punctuated by caps of white, bubbles from beneath the glassy surface of that arctic sea. The spots were air, exhaled from deep within a man. The dark pits were his tunnels to the underworld, the access point to the very core of

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-24984186020893315002010-03-01T21:00:00.000-08:002010-03-01T21:03:01.792-08:00

Yeah, this is really rough, but whatever. Allusions to the plight of the working class FOR THE WIN.Why Did the Chicken Cross the Road? Blazing Nevada sun warmed rough, stubble-covered patches of skin; a surface which rebelled against the heat by crying thick tears of sweat. The mask, a hot box in temperatures like these, was about seven dollars and twenty-five cents short of unbearable. The

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-2010683904279153722010-02-24T16:35:00.000-08:002010-02-24T16:43:07.727-08:00

When time is a human construct, how do you truely measure anything?Can you measure it in lifespan, or is that, too, just a compilation of tiny moments. Touches, looks, adventures, aimless wandering and arm holding. We can measure in eye flickers, measure in blocks. Why wait for anything, when at any moment, life could be over? Carpe Dium, todos los dias de mi vida. I can only hope I never forget

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-47049670308475573852010-02-08T20:24:00.000-08:002010-02-08T21:24:13.276-08:00

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-911706512627219802010-02-08T20:09:00.000-08:002010-02-08T20:09:31.177-08:00

Cherry Pop Refashion Frock GROSGRAIN GIVEAWAY!!!!Grosgrain made this BEAUTIFUL dress, and I really want to win it. First time I've seen something come up that is my size, yey! It looks just like the modcloth version she was going for, if not better.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-68624499566684619262010-02-05T19:31:00.001-08:002010-02-05T19:33:10.497-08:00

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-33972954510302273362010-01-16T03:05:00.000-08:002010-01-16T03:17:12.520-08:00

I feel as though all my energy for life has been sapped directly out of my soul.I had dreams and desires once.Now I feel what its like to be adult. To feel as though comfort is a shadow cast by the harsher light of reality.To be told not to rely on anyone is such a slap in the face. As though I haven't earned the right to let myself lean a little on someone when I need it. It's almost a bane,

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-64026520388713641872010-01-14T20:51:00.000-08:002010-01-14T20:55:45.387-08:00

A pang, and there it isA seed planted, and you are as unsuspecting Innocent as the earthWhat was once loose tilled flakes has something harderSomething warmer to hold on toAnd worried,Caressed like a tongue over cut lipsA new tasteBrought to the forefront of the mindWateredBlossomedInto something strange,But lovely.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-68122857332004908482010-01-13T15:54:00.001-08:002010-01-13T15:58:55.020-08:00

The process of these is getting more formulaic, finally. When I began, it was all just experimentation, but now its more like I know what I'm doing. It takes a little of the flavor out of it, but its nice to be able to pinpoint and perfect things.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-58152697734523606942010-01-09T18:43:00.001-08:002010-01-09T19:07:19.872-08:00

I'm a little blown away by the difference in quality between my D70 and my 7D. The gradations and palettes are so much smoother! I'm really happy to be shooting with it for my thesis. Next step is to work out a better lighting system. I'm considering which new flash unit I'll be purchasing. On a side note, I think I want to start making this blog a more renaissance type deal. I do a lot of

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-71775672324299920132010-01-08T22:50:00.000-08:002010-01-08T22:55:47.075-08:00

Switched over to the Canon 7D to shoot these. I'm in love with this camera. I think the number 7 has to be in all the DSLRs that I really like. ... I may have just realized that the 7D looks like 70. As in D70, which was my original baby.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-2434895406519189942010-01-05T23:22:00.001-08:002010-01-05T23:37:02.942-08:00

How much loss can one human soul endure before it becomes a husk?How much can be taken from a person before nothing is left?Asking the question, how much worse can it get, its not supposed to be a dare.Maybe there is a god, and she is called Earth. Certainly we have turned our backs on her, no wonder so many bad things happen to us.I feel like I have moved into a stage in my life where I am so

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-46061770741546722792009-12-21T21:31:00.001-08:002009-12-21T21:36:35.865-08:00

No one msses a seasonLike I miss summer.The ever-present hug of heatThe smile of the sun of closed eyelidsIf I imagine hard enoughI can almost smell the grass growingUntil I breath in too deepAnd harsh winter bites my lungsSpitting up snow in my face with windy laughterAt least experience and history teaches usThat every winter thaws to springWhere you can tasste the earthCrying away winter's

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-85493876386564843112009-12-15T19:09:00.000-08:002009-12-15T19:17:18.154-08:00

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-12405634403789047412009-12-15T19:05:00.000-08:002009-12-15T19:09:20.749-08:00

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-33807683116455336842009-11-11T17:37:00.000-08:002009-11-11T17:42:35.660-08:00

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-84258263995385859872009-10-29T11:31:00.001-07:002009-10-29T11:37:41.805-07:00

Got some more shots for my thesis done yesterday. The model was great. I love cooperative people.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-43553748239986023062009-10-27T17:29:00.000-07:002009-10-27T17:31:47.386-07:00

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-32709465855068186622009-10-27T17:22:00.001-07:002009-10-27T17:28:12.635-07:00

http://www.facebook.com/v/565932709505" />http://www.facebook.com/v/565932709505" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="400" height="266"> Music copyright Larry Polisar, used with artist's permission.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-23386174929666295152009-10-15T09:11:00.000-07:002009-10-15T09:14:26.433-07:00

How cruel is FateTo give and takeWhen I had wanted noneLeft to mopeWithout a hopeUnder the hidden Sun.Never thought I'd be inspired to write an Emily Dickinson-esque poem. Winner winner chicken dinner?

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-29956522588271327542009-09-22T17:39:00.001-07:002009-09-22T17:47:14.038-07:00

Dead dreams sink under the weight of living nightmares.Creatures from the black sweep out of the shadows, as eyelashes twitch out the seconds to the tick of a clock.The sky washes ashore over lifeless toes.Faces you can't quite remember peer owlishly out of the folds of your memories.Silent screams rend open windpipes.Punches hurled in frustration sink into sandy enemies.Helpless in a swath of

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-41947789862211652332009-09-17T19:02:00.001-07:002009-09-17T19:08:16.077-07:00

I'm not going to claim to be much of a live music fan. Usually I am content to plug in the old ipod or computer and listen by myself in the comfort of my own room. But last Sunday I was given the opportunity to see Muse, an amazing British band, performing at the Walter Kerr theater for MTV.I did like the band before I actually went. But something about being three rows from them, in a room full

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-44348840528329041932009-09-09T21:32:00.000-07:002009-09-09T21:43:31.616-07:00

I miss being the only thing you needed in the world.I miss you asking to come see me.I miss holding your hand,Kissing without a struggleAnd knowing that I was always on your mind.How do I make you see me like a woman again?I love laughing with you.I love playing games with you.I love fighting the world with you.I love when you touch my face,my back,my shoulders.But, how do I make you see me like

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-24689674400033394132009-09-08T18:23:00.000-07:002009-09-08T18:28:25.357-07:00

Full view is going to be far more enjoyable.Voyeurism 101

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-75446251564343787892009-08-19T17:49:00.000-07:002009-08-19T17:56:29.029-07:00

Do you think these fish realize that they are just a part of someone's painting? Obviously they were chosen for their subtle and small nature, so that their existance doesn't take away from the piece. Are they greatful? Do they feel that god has created this Eden for them?It makes me think, is this how Christians feel? That god has placed them in his perfectly sculpted landscape for their benefit

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-47601071706939241552009-08-11T12:42:00.000-07:002009-08-11T12:50:44.755-07:00

I beheld destruction in a flash.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-49761745088739428492009-08-11T12:37:00.000-07:002009-08-11T12:42:24.362-07:00

I saw chaos through the window light.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-78212851468530458542009-08-11T12:27:00.000-07:002009-08-11T12:37:24.297-07:00

Objects of Affection.Exteriors Through Courtyard Facing Windows.Fixtures Lost to Time.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-19008191348520602132009-08-05T12:21:00.001-07:002009-08-05T12:33:52.224-07:00

My mind is just buzzing right now. More so because of all the bleach I inhaled this morning. I went into the condemned building across the street, stole some stuff and some pictures. It was so... It was beautiful. Everything in the world will eventually end up like that, decaying, torn apart, furniture cast aside and ceilings caving in under the weight of their years. Everything in there was not

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-85792845441716500482009-07-22T22:00:00.001-07:002009-07-22T22:12:01.678-07:00

Full view is probably going to make this easier to understand. For the sake of my handwriting I'm putting the lyrics here.Hidden:Erupting from myselfThe animal insideCoiled and wrapped withinThe place I hid inside.Cactus skin : On fireAs I recite my hymn.Taken all this time,Still you will not see this monsterthat peers out,This thingI call me.Me.Crawl out of my mouthAnd kiss the sky.Oh monster of

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-1616757836932164212009-06-29T00:06:00.000-07:002009-06-29T00:28:24.414-07:00

My life is full of circles and mirrors. I faced my fear of the ocean's waves, and I faced my fear of a person who was trying to control me. In the end, both just washed over. I felt the force of them from beneath the water, a rippling, a crushing force over my back. Pulling at my hair, my clothes, my soul. There was terror, and I stood firm. Then I danced in the freedom of the emptiness behind

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-24723798398568276402009-06-15T19:43:00.001-07:002009-06-15T19:49:37.873-07:00

www.meetcherryfu.com

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-58621299137889686312009-06-04T22:31:00.001-07:002009-06-04T22:35:03.654-07:00

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-43890225373444829152009-06-03T12:58:00.000-07:002009-06-03T12:59:22.271-07:00

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-32859241473444685262009-06-01T23:29:00.001-07:002009-06-01T23:29:53.115-07:00

I can't help it.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-79799288153689671322009-06-01T23:25:00.000-07:002009-06-01T23:28:08.656-07:00

Recently, I moved to Hamilton Heights. I love it. But I get the feeling the cops are a little racist. Anyway, a little bit of late night amusement. This is during and after. Note the redbull.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-41346857461111476912009-04-22T00:22:00.000-07:002009-04-22T19:33:04.780-07:00

This cat and I carry a mutual hatred of each other.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-1410826017263533372009-04-20T16:34:00.000-07:002009-04-20T16:37:52.108-07:00

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-73806417622022419652009-04-16T21:56:00.000-07:002009-04-16T21:58:15.055-07:00

I have just uploaded my pets project, called My Friend, My Pet. Please add it to your following list to show your support. You can find it here.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-77106770185834085372009-04-15T21:01:00.000-07:002009-04-15T21:14:56.790-07:00

So I'm back in the city again, but I feel like a soggy puzzle piece. Momo helps, but there's still things floating around my mind that are keeping me up. I think I'm just overthinking. I'm suddenly curious, what does it feel like to have a mind free of bother? I knew once, not too long ago, and now that feeling of peace is uprooted. Things that should be easy for me, natural and logical things,

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-39513955045418417522009-04-13T00:42:00.001-07:002009-04-13T00:44:42.746-07:00

Here I am, enjoying the wilderness I was raised in, and enjoying watching Beckah take a picture with a real camera.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-51087039426548178562009-04-12T23:07:00.000-07:002009-04-12T23:38:53.863-07:00

Here's some work from the still life/portrait project that I did... I actually like the bottom graphic thing that I did the best ^^;

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-69214734691786362802009-04-11T23:24:00.000-07:002009-04-11T23:32:39.973-07:00

I took a drive up into the mountains to look at Binghamton from above tonight. It looks just like a black bowl full of stars. It makes me really miss the old days, my old friends. But I'm not so terribly great at keeping friends.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-8257436759368505872009-04-11T00:34:00.000-07:002009-04-11T00:48:48.685-07:00

I hide from my memories behind a mask.Reality checks in as an air raid siren.Fantasy flies out the windowLeaving behind radiation.It's Unavoidable.Evolution.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-65125736876682256842009-04-09T22:51:00.000-07:002009-04-09T23:10:57.772-07:00

Words I couldn't sayCaught in my throat like hair in a drainOnce your eyes hit mineA sound like the strike of a pool tableI am so coldAnd you are so wantingWords I couldn't sayClapped against my lipsLike my fingers against yoursA sound like a sled pressing down snowAs I try to push you awayCrush you without breakingWords I couldn't saySoft and boiled inside my hard shellWaiting to crash against

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-67403538672184583142009-04-09T00:41:00.001-07:002009-04-09T01:11:20.446-07:00

So, it's time for me to officially break in my blog with some ranting and some word-type things. I'm guessing it's going to be painful to read, the font is designed with labels in mind more than anything.I've come back to Binghamton for spring break, and, as always, I've run head first into a wall of mixed emotions. Whenever I visit here, my inner conflict between my young life, and my newly

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-54285164254122507722009-04-08T11:49:00.000-07:002009-04-08T11:52:11.031-07:00

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-73681186451222285112009-04-07T22:09:00.001-07:002009-04-07T23:27:19.470-07:00

These are some environmental shots I did of my new roommate, Brian Reed. I also am including him in my people and their pets project.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-4861666489487871172009-03-30T19:29:00.001-07:002009-03-30T20:09:20.005-07:00

St. Patty's day I followed the parade route all the way to the end with Michelle and Katie P. Here's what I got.

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-67473320842746559062009-03-30T19:19:00.001-07:002009-03-30T19:27:40.598-07:00

Katie P from our Sinar workshopMichelleGuy from out location shoot classKatie PIndian Fashion Show

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-8853837477347132612009-03-24T21:57:00.000-07:002009-03-24T21:58:09.606-07:00

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-17034971021370338592009-03-24T21:55:00.001-07:002009-03-24T21:56:21.091-07:00

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1280929359149378895.post-54363581837252965822009-03-24T21:49:00.000-07:002009-03-24T21:55:09.496-07:00

Brittanie Joneshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/15414954030771387728noreply@blogger.com0