Denim against the skin

by Bob Gelsthorpe

small thoughts, exercises in reflexivity and diaristic posts from Venice


In the sun I notice the blemishes on my arm. I worry about my health, and if I have a condition, I feel the blemishes are unattractive

There is noticeable sweat forming in the reverse of my elbow, it glistens in the sun and I think about the refraction in the film, where James looks through old photos. I think about Kim.

As I read A Sick Logic outside in the courtyard, my eyes become accustomed to the heat, and the brightness. They are absorbed in black and white. I hear people in the far room, I put the unused sick bag in the spot where I have finished reading, Close the book, and return inside, and pose as to look like I am inviting conversation, as that is my job. I feel very privileged.

When I return inside, the hannarex monitors are lime green, and the films a dull pink. I have never noticed how lime green black hannarex monitors are.

I open a conversation with buengiorno, how are you, I feel like an Italian fraud, I regret being English. There is no follow up question from the visitor, so our transaction in their eyes is complete. I have recognised their presence.

They leave, grazie.

I return to the slope outside to continue reading, I am desperate to tan, I think that this may cure me of the blemishes on my arms and legs. I stand in a way that permits the most amount of sunlight on my body. Another visitor. I close my book and return to the room. The clear plastic cover on the book has warmed and become rippled. The effect of it with the sunlight is pleasing, I think about disrupted surfaces, I think about Kim, I think about retinal after image, and Kim's long exploration of the phenomenon. I think about his exhibition at ArcadeCardiff, Underland.

I smoke. I am rejecting my hunger, more long gulps of water.

I gave a bag to Giles


Denim against the skin, denim against hairy, blemished skin.

Denim on my skin and of my skin, turned up shorts, to tan the skin, for comfort.

The sepia light puts sound in stasis, isolated events within and supercharges them. Involves them. Thinking about recollection due to the overtones of the sepia filter and it's relationship with early photography. I think about camera-less photography. I think about Sera.

I gave a bag to Louisa