Art Hoppin', literally. Fundalar had a backdrop set up and was taking shots of people jumping all weekend; little kids no older than 5, groups of sorority girls who couldn't jump without somehow falling over like idiots, humored tourists, and of course, dopes like my eccentric friends. A beautiful afternoon on my bike and in a dress entirely too short, a blatantly baked Tristan noticed the booth outside the furniture gallery where my work was displayed and immediately pointed, bluntly exclaiming, "THAT.
I want to do THAT. NOW. Evan lets go." The proofs were shit, so I bought Tristan some prints for his birthday, and of course I had to scan them before handing them over.