i think i met Caesy Oney in the darkroom. or on a bus to Seattle. i don’t remember.
i do remember both adoring and hating him, being so in love i couldn’t make eye contact in classes or on the smoking ledge. while too shy and stubborn to join the posse of scraggly, hipster, hot-girl groupies inwardly panting while trying to maintain their sexy cool, Oney was (and is) always in my peripheral vision. my competition was tough in every class we shared, and Oney kept me sharp: there was no all-night studio session i wouldn’t pull if it meant contending with his confident, casual smart-ass.
no big deal if he started dating the other emily when i thought we had a shot. after a few years of dulling the pain at Yur’s, we unruffled our competitive feathers. i’m so, so proud of this boy. he deserves the nods he’s getting.
the work is beautiful. i can’t afford it, but maybe you can. go forth and buy.
