lindsay tuttle

Lindsay on my diving board.  Tallahassee, Florida.  Early October 2012.  Black & White.  Canon AE-1.

My new place has a 1970s kidney-shaped, cement pool.  It’s lovely, and I actually enjoy cleaning it.  I asked Lindsay to pose around the pool for a few shots.  I wanted to evoke feelings of youthful boredom and melancholy, how Autumn is such a swift mood turn in Florida when you’re young and have a lot of time to think about who you are and who you’re going to be.

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Lindsay’s apartment, Tallahassee, Florida, March 2012, Nikon 35 MM.

Lindsay had (and maybe still has) a washing machine in her living room.  Where it came from was a long, convoluted story, so I just accepted it as another facet of Lindsay’s random decor–though the washing machine’s presence there did make me want to listen to Sonic Youth’s “The Diamond Sea” in her apartment even more.

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Lindsay and the long-horn steer series, Tallahassee/Jefferson County, Florida, March 2012/October 2011, Vivitar 35 MM instant camera.

In October 2011, I house sat for some friends in Jefferson County, Florida.  They live way out surrounded by cow pastures and lovely woods.  One day, as I drove past one of the cow fields, I noticed an all-white, long-horn steer with his head lifted to the sky, shaking his horns.  He was curling, and he was magnificent.  I thought of the Greek myth of the Cretan bull from the sea that fathered the Minotaur and the myth of Zeus disguising himself as a white bull and seducing Europa.  I pulled over and took several shots of him.

Flash-forward to March 2012: I started taking pictures of my friend Lindsay in and around her campus apartment at Penwood Apartments.  Mistakenly, I double-exposed the original roll of film from October 2011.  (You may remember from my previous posts; same roll of film here.)  Once again, a rather amazing thing happened.  Lindsay’s figure and apartment complex were now layered over the long-horn steer in his field.  Now on the eve of Lindsay’s birthday, these images seem a message from another realm.  They seem meant to be.  Happy Birthday Lindsay.  Happy Birthday Taurus.  

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Lindsay in front of the abandoned E-Z Serve of West Pensacola St.  Tallahassee, Florida.  Early October 2012.  Black & White.  Canon AE-1.

Lindsay wanted some black and white photos of her in front of stark and sparse places.  One of the spots she picked was this weird, abandoned E-Z Serve on FSU campus near the stadium.  They use it for contracted student parking now.  Odd vibe here.

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Lindsay’s apartment, Tallahassee, Florida, March 2012, Nikon 35 MM.

Outside Lindsay’s apartment at Penwood Apartments on Florida State University campus.  On several occasions, Lindsay showed me all the little passageways and alleys that connect Penwood and Jeffwood Apartments.  It’s a dizzy little maze, a network of sidewalks, clotheslines, terraced alleys, and stairwells dressed in palm trees, English ivy, and Virginia creeper.  I feel my heart soar with Lindsay’s as we make our breathless jaunt from one apartment to the next.

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Lindsay’s apartment, Tallahassee, Florida, February 2012, Nikon 35 MM.

Some very voyeuristic shots of Lindsay reading from outside her window.  Her figure is ghostly and lovely from far away.  You can barely make out her presence in the first picture, but her form becomes clearer and clearer with each photo.  These pictures have a soft quiet.  It’s fuzzy, hazy.  You can feel it, perceive it.  Like all quiet, it’s barely audible but there.