~ThePatriarch

Patrick Lewis Photography

I posted this on facebook a while back. I figured I'd slap it up on DA because I'm lazy and haven't updated my journal in a long time.


I often find myself strangely enamored with the idea of what it is to be me. What it is to be one single human being in the world. I have conceptualized my non-physical self into a tangible, almost visceral thing--that is, I can almost feel my identity as it deftly controls this meat sack that it is trapped in. I am essentially a giant bag of atoms that work in conjunction with one another to provide with the gift of existence, but what can be said about the spectrum of human emotion? It transcends who I am physically, and renders it somewhat useless. However, I must admit that the physical self is extremely important, as it is what places me here in this universe, and it governs what I am, which is equally as important as who I am. I am lost in wonder at the thought of being self aware. Perceiving the world around me and moving through the void of time, and what's more, my awareness of such things. Entire days can pass where I am wholly and completely inside of my own being. This is not to say that I do not have complete control over my actions and functionality, but that i never really engage in any of what is going on around me. I feel as if I am floating in a mental cloud: thoughts flow freely, but none of them can be wrestled into a translation that would make sense to the physical world. I used to metaphorically wear a thick jacket that allowed me to coast through my days, callous and uncaring towards the world that seemed to show little to no regard for me. The problem with this jacket is that it was manufactured badly, and it has holes. Emotion can get through as easily as it can be blocked out, and when it found a hole, it was as if I'd been hit by the sledgehammer of human connection. To feel, good or bad, is a human privilege, and should be viewed as such. To float through life without any true connections to the world is what leaves people feeling hollow and meaningless. I had a sense of this disconnect a while back, and I made some bad decisions on how to remedy my feeling of emptiness. Feelings have begun to ring true again, and I can see into the future, instead of just seeing the shroud of meaninglessness that had been draped over my tired brain. My stream of consciousness is bordering on rambling as it runs the course of my swampy synapse garden. Tangled in the translation of thought, I roll my mind over what is most prevalent. The broken heart from a love that I poured my entire being into. Not knowing how much of myself I had given to it, I was blindsided by it's end. I can see now that it was for the better. The feeling of potential in new relationships and an optimistic outlook towards that potential had recently become at the forefront of my mind. Walking through my life, entranced by my own ability to make things endlessly more confusing than they are in actuality, wondering why there must be so much "why?" in my life. There I go again. I come stumbling out of every ideological prolapse as if it had blasted me into another dimension. Does every successful validation of something have to be a fucking epiphany? Everything is a hunger for more, in the deepest recesses of my psyche, even though that hunger cannot be translated into anything applicable to my life. Even now, my ideas flow out of my brain and into my fingers like I overdosed on intellectual diuretic. My brain is filled to the brim with ideas of philosophy and fiction, to the point where I cannot even finish (or sometimes even start) one of them. This blathering rant lacks any semblance of structure, mostly due to the overwhelming number of pertinent ideas on the subject. I think too much.

E-mail:

patrick.lewis@colorado.edu

plphotography@mac.com

Patrick Lewis Photography

It's been quite a while since I posted a legitimate journal, and that's probably because I haven't had anything to post about; my life has been essentially very lame- Until tuesday. On tuesday of this week (October 2nd), I purchased about $4,500 (USD) of photo and video editing gear, the mainstay of which was a brand new computer. I know that no one really cares about my new things, or wants to hear about them for that matter, but here's the lineup:
A new Mac Pro 2.66ghz quad-core computer with 23" cinema display (unclench your fist, Danny); Adobe CS3 production premium (Photoshop, AfterEffects, Premiere, Flash, Soundbooth, and Illustrator); some extra GB of RAM, a Vanguard Tracker 4 tripod, and very soon, FCS2 and an Wacom tablet pad.

I feel almost ashamed that I am getting so excited about something so material, but I can't help it.

There are two main reasons for this epic purchase, one being the fact that I am pursuing a double degree: Film Production paired with Photography, Digital Art and Video Editing. The other reason is that my roomates and I are starting a production company that has yet to be named (suggestions welcome), and I was the only one without the correct editing and processing capabilites. (I'll leave AVID to Matt...)

One other piece of newness is my website. I redesigned it to look much more professional and you should most definitely pay a visit.

[link]

My last bit of news is that I have taken up my assumed role as a serious musician again. I think that it is where my largest skill is at this point, and I intend to let it bloom fully. I am playing with CU's top Jazz ensemble as a sophomore, which is great, and certainly an honor, but it's kicking my ass.

-The Patriarch

E-mail:

patrick.lewis@colorado.edu

plphotography@mac.com

Bob Saget

Now, before everyone stands up in an angry, horrified stupor and releases a little of the contents of their bowels due to the title of this journal entry, let me say that photography is in absolutely no way a bad thing and I would even go as far as to say it is one of the best things that you can do as a hobby or profession. These are just thoughts. Go change your undies.

I love photography. I almost pursued it as a career. In almost every way possible, photography has enriched and enhanced my life. Photography has turned every day, every situation into untapped artistic potential. It allows me to think of the world as my canvas and appreciate tiny, miniscule details of all the people/places/things that I would have never paid attention to had I not chosen to "get serious" with photography. By the way, the condom broke, and photography and I are having twins. It's almost the happiest moment of my life. Only slightly less happy than the moment where I abscond with mine and photography's twins and bludgen them to death with a rusty shovel before eating them, then get caught red...mouthed by photography and be forced to kill it, too. And then eat it sheepishly. Just think of how powerful I could be if I actually ingested photography itself. Wow.

Anyway...

Photography has given me discipline, persistence, and, most of all, a greater appreciation for art, and the world itself.

But it has also ruined some things.

For instance, once I became what some would call obsessed with photography, I lost the ability to appreciate anything in nature that once would have me in awe unless I had a camera in hand. And not just any camera. I coud only really enjoy and appreciate an amazing sunset, an incredible area, or a masterfully designed building unless I had MY camera in my hand. I also lost the ability to not be a dick to anyone who knew nothing about photography and made a really stupid suggestion with regards to it, such as, "Why do you even buy lenses? Just shoot without one and i'm sure it will work just as well." I'm sure, too. I lost the ability to be absolutely, completely content with my equipment once I got the 30D. I will always want more lenses, until the day I die. I have gained what I call the "photographer's sixth sense." This is a sense that makes you paranoid about your camera and equipment no matter how safe it really is. My camera bag could be locked in a lead safe with 14-inch-thick doors and I'd still be having minor convulsions over its whereabouts. In addition, this sixth sense gives you the idea that you are, in every situation, no questions about it, forgetting something critically important.

I have the disease.

I am a member of:

I recently came into the ownership of a Bogen tripod and head that I found laying in the University of Colorado drum room. It was pretty sweet. I saw it and asked if i could borrow it, and our section leader said, "Hell, you can have it. The guy who owned it doesn't go here anymore."

I flipped out. I like free things a fairly good deal.

I also bought a print account, heeding the advice of =AgaetisByrjun32.

You should buy my photography to decorate your shitty house or whatever the hell you want to decorate. It will make it look considerably less shitty.

I am a member of: