I’ve been spending so much time thinking about the photos I want to take, and wondering how I’m going to be able to justify them in some form of art-bullshit, that my brains pretty frazzled. Add to that the fact that I have some real life art-bullshit I’m trying to articulate in my head about the self portrait project with the looming deadline, and that my friends is where clinical madness ensues. 

I’ve actually been imagining, from time to time, dialogue between myself and a fake psychiatrist. I think it started when I was plotting where my madness would take me. I decided my parents would make me see a quack so I could vocalise my inner turmoil (please don’t forget this is all hyperbole I’ve constructed and let mature in my head, circa months from now when I still haven’t finished the work/found a way to play the game). So I’ve been frequently scripting our sessions in my head while I whittle away photos on photomashop. I’m getting the upper hand on her but she keeps surprising me with the depths of her cunning. A bit like Sherlock Holmes, which yes, I have been watching with my flatmates. 

Anyway yeah, too much time thinking about things leads a person down tangents so long they forget to focus on their work which began this trail - but much more importantly - allows them to forget that the main fucking thing they should be doing is creating less hypothesis and go and take some fucking photographs. Then I’ll know if the idea works or not. Overthinking leads to madness and a stockpile of unfinished sketchbooks. Sort your life out.