Sara Furey

All Locked Up

2009-11-01T17:11:00.001-05:00

She holds the lock
Originally uploaded by sara furey

I held this lock in Leadville, Colorado in the cold month of March. Then I walked around the corner and found a Catholic Church, named St. Joseph's, which is my grandfather's name. Joe Magee is quite the devout Catholic if ever there was one.... Anyway, like I was saying, I found this church and it too was locked (bummer, its really terribly cold and windy up here this time of year) but outside there was a statue of Mary, with rosary beads wrapped up in her frigid stone hands. I'm not the best Catholic, but I grabbed the beads and remembered what prayers I could, and made up the rest as I went along.. I know my verses weren't exact, but my heart was in the right place, and if I were Protestant or Presbyterian, well, that would count for a great deal of faith. Not necessarily to everyone, but to me.. well, it was a valiant and genuinely heartfelt effort in connecting with some sort of higher sprit. I needed it.

In any case, I went to Leadville to photograph the textures of old saloons and rusty broken down pick up trucks. I came to the realization one day (FINALLY) that all these years I have been searching for interesting textures in broken down old place because I felt so numb, and I needed to feel SOMETHING- ANYTHING. The fact that I was walking down Main Street in this sad old mining town and got a bad splinter as I ran my hand along old wooden doors and
fense posts help spark this brilliant revelation.

So was there a point to this blog? Well, let's see, I spoke to God, via a snowy statue of Mary, and He actually answered me, and sent me some rather loud signs to reconfirm my faith that occasionally things will get better and will work out for me. I dont take that many macro photos of old shit anymore, I think I might have finally gotten it out of my system, and splinters suck. And the lock, well, I'll let you insert your own Bob Dylanesque allegory.

Domesticity

2009-11-01T16:55:00.001-05:00

kitch_arms_bw
Originally uploaded by sara furey

This is a test to see if I can post directyly from Flickr...

The Spoon, The Fork, And The Damage Done

2009-10-15T23:40:00.002-04:00

On a recent trip to Moab, Utah, I took these photos at breakfast at the Jailhouse Cafe. I highly recommend eating there. I could post some of the beautiful shots of the desert I took, but this fork seems more interesting to me. I'm also a fan of the man in the spoon, and of Neil Young.

Heavy Like A Feather

2009-07-10T00:29:00.002-04:00

I found this little guy in Blue River near the tarn.. It was so pretty covered in dew.

Conflict

2009-07-05T18:37:00.002-04:00

I am conflicted. I think I bore people with photographs of rusty old objects and chipping paint, but then no one really seems to "get" my more conceptual and theatrical work.. i.e. time lapses and long exposures dressed up in 1950's attire in abandoned houses, creating imagery that looks like I am melting into the floor. What do people consider "good" photography these days? Photos of aspen and rivers really really bore me, so maybe thats how others feel about my work. But landscape photography is just that.. people shoot the amazing landscapes that surround us. I can do that too, but coming up with an interesting idea and bringing it to life, or attempting to manifest my crazy imagination and thoughts into imagery.. thats art. Right? Isn't that why I went to art school? Because every photographer I met at the art festival here in Breckenridge this weekend told me that 1.) they never went to school for photography. 2.) It started out as just a hobby. 3.) People love landscapes. I'm poor, not selling any artwork and confused. I will however continue to shoot rusty old cars and tiny towns and roadside attractions, such as motel signs and abandoned gas stations... because they make me happy. Wildflowers are awesome.. but I don't get a rush from finding a few columbine.

Textures of Mining

2009-06-08T00:33:00.002-04:00

Textures of Mining History

2009-06-08T00:14:00.004-04:00

Images shot in Summit County, Colorado.

Roadside Coffee

2009-06-07T23:47:00.002-04:00

Get it while its hot! This was taken in lovely downtown Las Vegas, New Mexico. My fascination with rural America never ceases to yield interesting photos of yesteryear. I toned down this image in photoshop to make it less saturated to give it a more rustic feel.

Your Time Is Up

2009-04-09T22:31:00.005-04:00

Your Time Is UP.
Broadway. Denver, CO

Jello.. I could use somebody..

2009-03-04T04:04:00.003-05:00

That was my quote of the day for last Friday layered over a photo I recently took of some Jello.
I have been listening to this Kings of Leon song on repeat all day... It goes like this," You know that I could use somebody.. Someone like you.. Someone like you and all you know and how you speak..." Its funny because I wonder if I'll ever meet someone who appreciates the fact that I make jello look beautiful, and the fact that I truly got excited when I took this photo.. And then I think about the song.. and I think about someone who has been on my mind lately. I'm pretty difficult to live with, and I'm extremely picky when it comes to finding someone to share my time.. and my bathroom with.

Its rare when I can find someone who actually captivates my attention for more than five minutes. I am so skilled in the art of killing conversations, I usually resort to discussion of concentration camps, and my fascination with Nazi cemeteries in Germany, or I embark on a tangent about how the US Government testes nuclear weapons on Native American lands and fucked them into the future for generations. (Nuclear fallout + reproduction = serious birth defects + alcoholism + extreme poverty = Did we seriously do that to these people? Oh yeah.) But by now I'm sure so-n-so has lost interest or got scared and looks for his escape, saving me the effort and my comfy booth in a packed bar.

So, when said human does actually come along and I hang on his every word and find brilliance in his rambles and tirades on world politics and rap lyrics.. I'm pretty much hooked. Now I'm bummed because this said person of my mental affections is not around to verbally spar with me, whilst repeatedly hitting me with witty one-liners that make me want to fall on the kitchen floor in laughter.

It's hard to find somebody like you. xoxo

I love you like broken glass

2009-03-02T01:25:00.003-05:00

I love you like broken glass
Originally uploaded by sara furey

If I could go back to this day, this house, I would. And I would stay there forever and ever and Id be so happy. I miss love.I just found out that the city of Boulder tore down this house, and I was so so sad to drive by and see more storage units sitting in its place. I texted Mike to tell him.. he wasnt nearly as devastated as I was.. but responded with a sarcastic, "Ahhh the memories!" I didnt write him after that. R.I.P. 63rd and Arapahoe..

Textual Love Affairs

2009-02-03T02:43:00.002-05:00

Why is it so easy for people to say things like this via text message, but not in real life? Text messages, instant messages, facebook threads, wall posts and photo comments do not exist in the real world. I'd much rather have had him give me a hug, hold my hand, and say these nice things... but I'll settle for these. I wish I could have dated in earlier decades where we were not inundated with technology that makes it painfully easy to text in and out of people lives and hearts.

I Heart Leadville, Colorado

2009-01-27T13:16:00.003-05:00

I do. I heart Leadville. I'll finish discussing why later.

The door's open but the ride ain't free

2009-01-26T11:48:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I need to just get in my car and drive away as far and as fast as I can. I have to open all the windows and feel the cool western winds in my hair and the bright sun beating down upon me as I shoot like a bullet towards an infinite horizon. The open road stretches out before me while adventure and possibilities are endlessly unfolding with each mile ticked on the odometer. Bob Dylan and Johnny Cash serenade me on cavernous mountain roads through tiny old mining towns and down the vast expanses of lonely desert highway. Sometimes it’s lonely. Staying in strange motels alone, hearing strangers in the adjoining rooms, or maybe hearing nothing at all for hours except the sound of my own voice and my guitar. I take a lot of photos at night, it helps to pass the hours I spend not being able to sleep in these dumpy roadside motels in the middle of nowhere. If I think of it like a photo project, sometimes it’s easier. Sometimes it still freaks the hell out of me and I wonder what the hell I am doing there alone in the first place. (Insert a myriad of Dylan lyrics here..) But then I remember that in a few short hours the sun will creep in through the sadly dismal window dressings that are desperately more vintage than my 1970’s baby blue Levis chords will ever be, and I’ll go eat hotcakes at a roadside diner somewhere with local old cowboys who will look at me as if I just emerged from a foggy dream they had once.. and I’ll feel better as soon as I get back on the road and on the hunt for new roadside attractions to photograph.

This motel in Eagle's Nest, New Mexico. I believe it cost me only $35 for the evening. I didn't sleep well at all, the television was so old it had a rabbit ear antenna with aluminum foil on it.

I didn't shower in the bathroom, I was scared to take off my shoes and socks.

ReWARds

2009-01-23T01:07:00.000-05:00

I've recently started collecting postcards and fliers from clubs, shops, cafes and anywhere else I find them. In London, over Thanksgiving, I collected about 200 different items, mostly advertising bands, and deejays, or art galleries. The image above I created by submerging in liquids, then photographing it with a macro lens. It says reward because after watching too many movies about WWII recently, I have a fascination with war.. and the word ReWARd, (oh the irony of the spoils of war that are often so beneficial to the victorious parties... President Bush.. Halliburton.. postwar Commie Germany) I think heaps of the war in Iraq and remember during the 2004 election living in a crazy house in Boulder, CO where we had a 10 foot sign on our front porch that read, "NO WAR FOR OIL!". I liked John Kerry, I cried that November, really I did.

The woman in this image looks as if she is bidding farewell to the world, she's sinking in the bubbly stew that I created for her, which is partly comprised of the different oils I have been manipulating and experimenting with. She could also be blowing you a kiss.. Reminiscent of a 1940's pin-up girl, she works with my whole World War Two theme. She doesn't resemble Eva Braun though, so the idea that flit around in my head for a few brief milliseconds about Eva saluting the Third Reich quickly dissipated. (Thankfully because if was a ridiculous stretch, even for me. Plus there were no rewards for Germany after the allies had that shit on lock down... perhaps it could have gone somewhere else with different text.. but maybe I should move on from discussing Nazis because I haven't even had lunch yet..) In conclusion, London, pin-up girls, blitzkrieg bombing raids, oil and war.. It makes sense to me.. comes full circle quite nicely. The text needs some work, I don't like the colour or the font.. but its only a prototype for an eccentric idea that will develop over time...
This is another one.. adventures with text that I took off of another postcard then manipulated in Illustrator with some background texture from another submerged collage image. It's not easy caring about issues like the planet and politics... really, it isn't. My life would be far less complicated if I wasn't burdened with a social conscience and a desire to save the earth from global warming and weapons of mass destruction.

Sunday Girl

2009-01-23T00:35:00.000-05:00

This is the amazing Debbie Harry. I painted this canvas with oil over acrylic layers. She's such a sick bitch. She inspires me to wear black and white almost every day of my life. Parallel lines and dark red lipstick with platinum blond hair... simply divine. Thanks Debbie, for your fashion guidance and your epic musical styleings, and for touching my hand this summer at the concert I went to when you were supposed to play with the New York Dolls but they got rained out. That was seriously one of the best nights of my entire life.. and you singing Hangin On the Telephone, Call Me and Sunday Girl... and so many more.. Really, words can hardly describe my idolization.

2009-01-19T19:47:00.000-05:00

I bit this from Clay, who bit it from some other dude. But it's worth it. It's very true.. I wish I had read this years ago when I was in art school, feeling like a hack. I'm not a hack.. I know this now.

Vicous Manipulations

2009-01-18T22:40:00.000-05:00

Cracking up. I might just be a bit "cracked up". But I reckon that these egg shells are beautiful and I saw an eerie quality of beauty in their broken form. Maybe that's because I can identify with an egg. Hard on the outside, yet very fragile, a gooey mess on the inside. (Also filled with protein and life). Some people meet me and probably get the impression that I am extremely cold and standoffish, contrarily others meet a really outgoing and happy person. People are like eggs. I am an egg. (I'm one glass of wine away from Paul McCartney singng "I am the Eggman coo coo cuchoo..") An eggshell is just the outer layer, and as tough as we think we are.. if you drop us enough times, we won't bounce back, we'll fall into a yellow puddle on your kitchen floor. But if you take care of us and hold us gently, you can neatly crack us open, and make Eggs Benedict for breakfast. Or maybe you'll pour us into a bowl of brownie batter and cook at at 375 degrees, bringing chocolaty goodness and love to those around us. Just don't me take me out of the fridge unless you are going to handle me with care.

He's a spoon. A pretty green spoon. Scoop scoop scoop. I like spoons, more than forks, more than knives. I like spoons for my tea, and ice cream, and soup. I might be able to live off of soup, ice cream, English breakfast tea, and salad. But I would need a good spoon. I would use chop sticks for my salad, if I didn't have a fork. But only if they were reusable chop sticks, not chop sticks that were made from old growth forests, because their production might have contributed to global warming (inadvertently through the destruction of the trees). I really care about global warming, and i read a decent amount of books and articles on it, and I recycle, but I really really hate people who wear shirts that say "I recycle" or "Recycle Recycle Recycle" or "Be Green" and my ultimate favourite "I Recycle Boys". Your shirts were probably manufactured in Thailand by a ten year old girl who got paid 13 cents an hour and got beat for taking too many bathroom breaks.

I take home paper and boxes from my office and get ridiculed daily by obnoxious Long Island guidos for being a stupid hippie. That's love for the planet. Boycotting Dunkin Donuts because they use an egregious amount of Styrofoam in spite of the fact that they have the best coffee around, that's love for the planet. I can't even get started on Starbucks. I can't and and I won't. I miss living in Sydney and Boulder and Breckenridge and having my flat whites served to me in eco- friendly cups, or better yet, giving a barista with dreadlocks my reusable coffee mug, and receiving a smile with my espresso.

I love bubbles, obviously. But not in my lattes. No froth, no foam. Just steamed milk. Why is it so hard to make a latte flat? Flat white, as they call it in Australia, its self explanatory. If I wanted a foamy beverage of fluff, I would have ordered a cappuccino. Seriously.

711 now offers only paper cups. That brings joy to my mundane life. I also thoroughly enjoyed the McCain/Obama coffee cup tally. Way to go 711, props for making people pick a cup and get involved with politics. Too bad they didn't make a green cup with Nader's name on it.

Lips. Looks like lips. Luscious big slips. Yum. I have to stop blogging. I'm at a dinner party and I'm being a really bad guest. The attendees at this party just got really random. Damn it. I wasn't in the mood for this.

12.21.01

2009-01-18T22:21:00.000-05:00

I never really believed in ink. I never thought anything could ever be important enough for me to have it permanently drawn onto my body. 12.21.01 is a day that lives on in infamy for me. Its the day that my life changed forever. It was lightly snowing, and it was extremely cold. I was wearing this great Vintage coat named Vita, that I bought at the Salvation Army in West Babylon. I loved Vita so much. She was held together with duct tape after all her super-reinforced seams failed to submit to repair. I often wonder what would happen if I had stayed home of 12.21.01. I'll never know, although I would really really like to look into a magic ball and see how different my life would be today. Wrists are symbolic. At least mine are to me.

2009-01-16T15:24:00.000-05:00

I’m going to become a famous photographer one day. I doubt it will be for taking pictures of flaking paint and rusty nails. More likely I’ll be discovered for pioneering this new style photography that involves the magnification of liquids and gasses and their digital manipulation. I have never seen any work like the images I have been creating lately, and that inspires me to continue my work with bubbles. I’m very intrigued with OIL. The role that oil plays in our everyday lives, on this planet and the massive scale of overconsumption by humans. So, I’ve been playing with different forms of oil and studying the reactions that occur when you place it with other substances. I think it looks pretty. I think it’s amazing actually. It’s a good thing no one really reads my blog, otherwise I’d be paranoid that someone might steal my ideas.

Like Watching Paint Dry

2009-01-16T11:29:00.000-05:00

Sometimes my life feels like I am watching paint dry, or maybe I feel more like dry old paint on a rusty nail. But I think that I'm a nice colour at least, or I have interesting texture. The oxidation process that turns nails to rust is the same that turns my hair platinum shades of blonde. I love the colours of old doors and wooden structures that have seen more years of weathering than my short twenty-six year old life. Door knobs and fence posts abandoned homes haunted by ghosts, churches in fields and old wagon wheels. Stagecoaches and tractors...

I've got a purple coat

2008-12-05T16:51:00.001-05:00

DSCN6745
Originally uploaded by sara furey

2008-11-26T00:09:00.000-05:00

Do you know what’s really NOT cool? Making fireballs with someone and then NEVER speaking to them ever again. Never returning a phone call, a text message, an email… NOTHING. I don’t really understand the thought process behind making fireballs with a person and then completely vanishing from the face of the planet. It’s a good thing I wasn’t dying and trying to say my final farewells, I might have been more disappointed, but now in hindsight it would have been a waste of my breath anyway. Pretty tough to think about the beginning of December. Cold. Really super extremely totally absurdly fucking COLD.

One Of These Days Webisode

2008-11-25T23:40:00.000-05:00

One Of These Days...

My adventures in film making. The song is by Pink Floyd. Filmed in Boulder, Colorado.

Editing help from Mike Stoddard.

Apples and Art

2008-10-20T10:59:00.000-04:00

This was at the Conlkin House in Babylon Village at the Apples and Art Festival that ran from oct 17- Oct 19. It was a great time, and thanks to everyone who came out!