https://www.connorjmartin.com/portraiture daily 1.0 2022-01-26 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520282887698-HZX99T2A8MT4I76BRL2U/claire+2-47.jpg People Napoli, Italy July 2015 Stop number two of our thirty five day, post-graduate excursion around the Mediterranean landed us in the heart of Napoli. A stark contrast to Rome's pristine aura, Napoli was grungy, trash-ridden, loud and chaotic. It felt like New York, and I loved it, all of it. The fat men in speedos, sprawled out on the huge boulders lining the bay, adding patina to their already leathery skin. The €4 pizza in the birthplace of pizza, doesn't get more authentic. There was no such thing as 'pedestrians have the right away;' you wanted to cross the street, you just went for it and the cars would stop, inches before hitting you but they stopped. After wondering the narrow streets, we'd pile into our room of the hostel, which had been advertised as a "Entire Apartment" on AirBnB. It was filled with four old cots with wool-ish blankets, which went unused as it was mid-July and the apartment was without air conditioning. The one window of the room opened up into an narrow alley and offered no ventilation. I snapped this picture as we lounged around and disgested our Peronis and the oversized pizzas we had all ordered individually, while locals looked at us as "typical obese Americans" I'm sure.     https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520282887698-HZX99T2A8MT4I76BRL2U/claire+2-47.jpg People Napoli, Italy July 2015 Stop number two of our thirty five day, post-graduate excursion around the Mediterranean landed us in the heart of Napoli. A stark contrast to Rome's pristine aura, Napoli was grungy, trash-ridden, loud and chaotic. It felt like New York, and I loved it, all of it. The fat men in speedos, sprawled out on the huge boulders lining the bay, adding patina to their already leathery skin. The €4 pizza in the birthplace of pizza, doesn't get more authentic. There was no such thing as 'pedestrians have the right away;' you wanted to cross the street, you just went for it and the cars would stop, inches before hitting you but they stopped. After wondering the narrow streets, we'd pile into our room of the hostel, which had been advertised as a "Entire Apartment" on AirBnB. It was filled with four old cots with wool-ish blankets, which went unused as it was mid-July and the apartment was without air conditioning. The one window of the room opened up into an narrow alley and offered no ventilation. I snapped this picture as we lounged around and disgested our Peronis and the oversized pizzas we had all ordered individually, while locals looked at us as "typical obese Americans" I'm sure.     https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520266211841-G9ZJC3M01SF34RESIC3K/claire+2-57.jpg People - Farmhouse Venzia, Italy (July 2015) Old faces, new places. Henrietta and I became very close through college, mainly bitching about our romantic interests and, ultimately, disappointments. That and our shared passion for art has maintained our friendship ever since. No matter how long its been, we get together and we can gossip with the best of them (and about them.) She happened to be in Venice at the same time we were. We drank bellinis in the sun, ate overpriced yet appropriately priced dinner, and got happily lost in the labyrinth that is Venice after dusk.   https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520266242366-MCWGVZTR3OHOTUL87GPT/claire+2-47.jpg People https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520293269582-WG9XH47CDE2O5ORFZ9VS/claire+2-153.jpg People Princeton, NJ (Fall 2015) Photo by Injee I never told anyone why I wore that chain. They probably think I did it because i thought I was cool, thats cool too. But I wore it to remind myself of no matter what to enjoy it. In the middle of a long run when it was all strugs and no smiles, I'd feel that little tap on my chest... as to say "Hey at least you're out here." Or when I was too worried about feeling the lactic in my legs or my heavy arms, I focus on how it felt bouncing from one shoulder to the other. Or when I was really feeling good, and it'd get into this perfect cadence with my body, I'd think, "Remember this feeling because this what its fucking all about." I left that chain on for four and a half straight years. I sweat, showered, cried, and slept in it. It'd get chewed on. It'd get made fun of. It'd awkwardly get in the way during sex. It was a part of me as much as my slight lisp is. And when I finally took it off, I felt weird for a very long time; my collarbones felt naked. I still have that chain in a box somewhere, just in case I need reminding of something else. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520266323702-09PY35FA6KH5EMPA9DIG/claire+2-159.jpg People Detroit, MI (December 2016) Corktown is cool, but weird. Its a strip of hipster establishments on an awkwardly wide road that is nearly empty, which is even more unsettling because the heart of downtown is no more than a mile away. An amazing BBQ joint. A cocktail bar that changes its name systematically; it was "Bill Murray" on this visit. One block east is the abandoned Michigan Central Station, a beautiful display of early 20th century architecture, and a couple blocks south was this warehouse. Completely abandoned, its supposed to be locked down, but its Detroit and there are bigger priorities. We shimmied around the fence and blindly walked across the ground floor, completely boarded up and pitch black, to the north stairwell. As we exited on the sixth floor, we were met by the glaring sunset, made available by the lack of a west-ward facade above the fifth floor. A brilliant golden hue filled the dark cavity, shimmering off the puddles of stagnant water and weaving through the pillars. Despite standing on the sixth floor of a surely structurally unsound building in Detroit, with all of its misfortune and trials, the last sunset of 2016 was beautiful. In a weird way, Detroit made it more beautiful. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520266138331-H5G140NZP2225DAH2IN6/claire+2-97.jpg People Bloomington, IN (April 2017) All black squares crack, but thats just the beauty of life revealing itself.       https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520266356640-PSWI998ZKSI0CY4XP4U4/claire+2-142.jpg People Chicago, IL (October 2015) I don't know classical music. I don't know music in any classical sense. I don't know notes, or tones, or pitches. I don't even know if I just named three different things or if those are all one in the same. I have a terrible rhythm and can't sing at all. But I like that. I like being taken away by different sounds, able to shift my preference in genre based on my mood, and listen to different styles without trying to break them down as a true artist might. Art is feeling, not analysis. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520266383138-29R99QYVXRJ6QF9IZKQC/claire+2-138.jpg People Princeton, NJ (October 2013) We were aware of time. Aware that it passes. Aware that things change, move on, grow old. We were aware that some day we'd be the old men walking around campus looking for any semi-attractive co-ed to tell an over-inflated story to or see a young man wearing a ‘Princeton Track’ t-shirt and recall our 'championship season.’ We were very aware of all that, but that night, we were focused on getting drunk, and setting the foundation to build those back-in-my-day stories. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520309269120-I36VR262CH3H9MAL9C8T/claire+2-23.jpg People - Nash Equilibrium in the Shadows of Fine Tower Princeton, NJ (Spring 2015) The common bystander would look at this line and view it as teamwork, like basketball practice. And while some days the group would settle into a Nash equilibrium and just complete the prescribed workout, that was rare. The chances were, in a group of highly competitive, college guys with not enough time to practice, study, go to class, eat and fuck, so the fucking was sacrificed, someone would feel good and divert that unused testosterone into the workout, tossing Nash and his pussy game theory out the window. And when that happened, and it happened nearly every Tuesday and Friday, the fun started. Who felt good to go with him just because? Who felt good enough to turn the hunter in the hunted? And when would each of them finally show their cards? Who was having a shitty day? Who was having such a shitty day they'd call out the dickhead fucking up the workout because it made him look bad and feel worse? Of those having shitty days, who would bitch about it and who would quietly finish the cool down, take a quick solo shower, and leave before everyone else was done stretching? ("What's up his ass today?") Of those feeling good, who would realize it was just his lucky day and act normal and who would two-step the cool down but hang around just enough to awkwardly look over his shoulder to boast about how good he felt? ("Shut the fuck up dude.") Everyone had their turn in each role; and on workout day, you never had a choice, your role was predetermined by your master: your body. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520266431230-RJBAYZELX23KP7U1FTH6/claire+2-98.jpg People Outside Bloomington, IN (September 2016) There is nothing like it. I've never taken any real drug, but I assure you nothing can give you the same sensation. Your heart is beating faster than most will ever get it, yet its comfortable. Your lungs expand with a long gasp and exhale with a sharp gasp, a rhythmic soundtrack of disappointed under-oxygenation for your body. With each stride, you feel the asphalt jolt through every bone in your foot, up your shins into your quads and dissipate into your torso . Your calves fall into the unpleasant cycle of contracted relief and violent extension. Your arms, fortunate enough to be as far from the pain's epicenter as possible, hence their twig-like appearance, can only pump back and forth, helping to propel you forward in the hopes of it all ending sooner. But in that chaos, the only thing you hear: the pitter-patter of your shoes. The only thing you see: the shadow of your legs, which on the two dimensional canvas of the road look like pistons moving up and down, pushing you forward. The only thing you taste: the sweat dripping from your upper lip. And the only thing louder than the internal pleas for rest is that voice, the same one that knows your pain is redlinned and it wont get any worst, it can't, telling you to enjoy this because your machine of a body will be decommissioned one day. And as you drop it to 4:55 pace for the last four miles, that thought makes you smile. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520266394498-27FFHFRXB373I7NTFVIR/claire+2-59.jpg People Sete, France (July 2015) We are in the south of France in the tiny town of Fabregues. We landed here to celebrate the 90th birthday of the grandmother of my roommate, Sam. After staying in the major Italian cities and perusing museums and the must-do tourist traps for the last three weeks, the locals-only, back-alley feel was welcomed. We celebrated her birthday at the local park, which was a fenced-in dirt patch with a long shelter with an equally long picnic table under it. No one in Sam's family, besides his parents, knew English, and none of us other than Same knew French. So we drank to learn. And as we drank, we played petanque, a game similar to bocce but with heavy metal balls. As we became more and more tipsy, we yelled "PA-TONNKK" more and more obnoxiously with each throw. Shirtless under the the sweltering Mediterranean sun, we were soon coated in a thin film of dust, kicked up from the metal balls and dehydrated, which only got us more drunk. We played the entirety of Sam's extended family and exclusively lost, but were allowed to stay in the understanding we couldn't really participate in anything else. We played for a very long time, but never did learn French, except for PA-TONKK, I guess. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520309268619-HSAAJKJW6DCBDE9E23AH/claire+2-22.jpg People - Injuried Princeton, NJ (Spring 2015) I am fortunate when it comes to real emotional pain. I've never been to a funeral. I grew up in a stable, loving home. I've never really been really really mad at the world. I have been heart broken, but that's chicken shit compared to sitting on the sidelines at practice, watching your closest friends do the one thing a day that you actually care about. Doing the thing that makes the hours of studying and tireless routine worthwhile. You know they are just doing what they always do, but at first, you take it personally that they're there and you're not. And after a couple days of being angry at them, reason hits, which should be a good thing but its not because the anger turns inward, but not you per say. Its an incredibly surreal feeling to be angry at your body, because to do so you have to view it as separate than yourself. Your body takes on its own agency, one that you can only nudge but never fully control. It becomes, in your eyes, a machine, which in times of injury is fucking infuriating but awe-inspiring in times of victory. And despite crossing that final finish line, that separation of you and body never goes away. I will forever be the damned handler of this body. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1533335150473-2CF0OE0JADOHWYI5N6LJ/IMG_1134.JPG People Sammy’s Place in Rock Sound, Eleuthera, Bahamas (July 2018) My mom ordered first, and as always, that entailed a indecisive process of asking questions, looking for some guidance. When she settled upon the fish stew, the owner doubling as our waitress, Sammy, showed a burst of appreciation. “Whew! Momma you’re going to LOVE it!” And as we went around the table, each of us ordering, Sammy’s excitement only grew. "You wouldn’t imagine how many pancakes and waffles we make for white tourists, but y’all eatin’ like some real Bahamians!” https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520293245907-2HVTDO0YIJJRLIYM7NJG/claire+2-63.jpg People Gorges de Verdon, Provance, France (July 2015) Fuck kayaking. We went back and got a paddleboat. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520293323553-E3OJ8ZLTHS0CELH721K1/claire+2-79.jpg People Outside of Bloomington, IN (August 2016) “In mind's special processes, a ten-mile run takes far longer than the 60 minutes reported by a grandfather clock. Such time, in fact, hardly exists at all in the real world; it is all out on the trail somewhere, and you only go back to it when you are out there.” -John L. Parker https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1533335528415-UTBNQ38BBOESMLCPOLNH/Attachment-1-3.jpeg People Lighthouse Beach, Eleuthera, Bahamas (July 2018) A cooler of beer and the most remote place to sit. That is what a Martin family vacation is. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520293336889-KYK8AEZ86A43G68CG9T2/claire+2-137.jpg People Lausanne, Switzerland (July 2017) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520293355000-HWRLQHA0XDRUOW9CKSS7/claire+2-54.jpg People Giudecca, Venzia, Italy (July 2015) Only the superficial things change with travel. Language. Government. Ethnicities. Landscapes. Those are all meaningless when compared to the universalities. Childhood. Love. Creativity. Awe. Interaction. Inspiration. People often go places to take the experience back home with them, to say "I've been there. See!." It is just a trip; they view the setting as temporary, not recognizing that in fact, they are the temporary variable placed in a much larger equation. I don't see cities, I see homes. I don't see pedestrians. I see commuters. I don't see (insert demonym). I see normal people. I like to imagine the guy standing next to me at the espresso bar is a regular; he knows the barista and asks her about her children. I like sitting on my hotel balcony, trying to see into the apartments across the street to glimpse their decor. In a car or train, I watch the world pass and try to spot a local shop that'd be my favorite if I were to live there. I like to think this kid's childhood could have been mine, and if so, would I jump that scooter into the canal?   https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1533332591165-6DY0318HMC1QC8V9E1M7/IMG_3994+copy.jpg People Tippy’s Restaurant in Governor’s Harbor, Eleuthera, Bahamas (July 2018) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1643233200810-6HD2NFE4JTPNDFJ7RR6K/image-asset.jpeg People https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1643233385480-NIC71EI6YHKZ3TD18PK9/image-asset.jpeg People https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1533335457757-EKXNO4EG1P7K35OWIYHF/IMG_3994+copy.jpg People https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1643233779438-EJLTG8WS7WR2OMSVQ08W/image-asset.jpeg People https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1643233841334-1CZGUB1Q4UA6IY19EZMT/image-asset.jpeg People https://www.connorjmartin.com/humannature daily 0.75 2022-01-26 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520308711680-WNURF6K7POEU7TEZRR96/claire+2-140.jpg Places - Indulgences Bloomington, IN (Summer 2017) I don't want specialities. Steaks don't interest me. I am sure a $45 steak tastes fucking amazing, but give me the weird thing at the bottom of the menu. The thing that won't be here next time I come because no one else ordered it. I want the thing that there is a 50% chance I hate it, but am intrigued enough to take that chance rather than not. I want the thing that catches my eye, despite knowing my eye and my tongue don't always agree. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520308711680-WNURF6K7POEU7TEZRR96/claire+2-140.jpg Places - Indulgences Bloomington, IN (Summer 2017) I don't want specialities. Steaks don't interest me. I am sure a $45 steak tastes fucking amazing, but give me the weird thing at the bottom of the menu. The thing that won't be here next time I come because no one else ordered it. I want the thing that there is a 50% chance I hate it, but am intrigued enough to take that chance rather than not. I want the thing that catches my eye, despite knowing my eye and my tongue don't always agree. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297154751-12A32OWCJ751XGSCOI62/claire+2-111.jpg Places Malmo, Sweden (January 2017) It was the day we were leaving Malmo, yet after 3 days, I felt like I hadn’t really seen it. I’d seen the park, the center city, and new Malmo, but as I looked at the cartoonishly illustrated map that the hotel gave us, the places I’d been were dwarfed by the places I hadn’t. I left the warmth of the hotel before 6:30am, bundled in every possible article of clothing that I had brought plus those that i had bought there to make up for the lack of clothing I had brought. It was cold and drizzling, big surprise, and bike was the only option. I spent 5 hours riding around. Turning into alleys. Stopping at different cafes for different pastries. I got lost i https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520308744057-H0L8MBS1KRYISDX6JL0W/claire+2-56.jpg Places Burano, Venzia, Italy (July 2015) When I was a kid, I was always amazed by grown ups who, when they told stories, would recall such specific details about far-off places. It wasn't just Italy. It wasn't just Venice. It was Burano, the island of brilliant glassblowers, houses every color of the rainbow, and in-board motorboats made of royal wood, like in James Bond. I knew I wanted to be like that, but was unsure how to remember those details. I was already caught up in the seemingly infinite details of my finite world, like what that cute girl wore today in math class, who will I invite to my birthday party next week, and what flavor will I get when Stephen and I ride our bikes to get ice cream? How could I possibly capture the details of the entire world?! In asking that initial question, I answered the first half of it. Observe. Being aware of and attune to everything: the beauty and the filth, the flamboyancies and the subtleties, the high and the low, the sounds and the tastes, the colors and the shapes.     https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297158328-581AGPRHTH8YKHCG38SB/claire+2-117.jpg Places Nyhavn, Copenhagen, Denmark (January 2017)   https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297124905-F8L99R5Q5HHS8VCVJ1QF/claire+2-104.jpg Places Malmo, Sweden (January 2017) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297007515-Q54HUX6SIIL253DNDCK6/claire+2-64.jpg Places Gorges du Verdon, Provance, France (July 2015) Places are meant to be seen once. Not in a "check it off" type of way, but in the appreciation of the world's vast size. There is so much to offer, to see, to do, to experience. Why keep reacting the same scene when the rest of the play has yet to be seen? When you approach the world like this, each sight is met with as much awe as the previous blink. You welcome being fully enveloped and overtaken by the details of the moment, knowing its so overwhelming that you won't remember nearly as much if you focused on "seeing it." But the few details that you do will stick forever. Because you'll never see colors quiet the same hue. You'll never be able to recreate the mixture of smells and ambient noise. You can go back to that place to see it again, but you'll never be there again. Singular ephemerality: the beauty in this world. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297234423-WS6UFTCCTRLNU7A6UIAR/claire+2-145.jpg Places Nyhavn, Copenhagen, Denmark (January 2017) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520296851688-CNEEW4J3XBDNIGT220QS/claire+2-15.jpg Places Serengeti National Park, Tanzania (Aug. 2014) As we 'sped' through the endless plains, we'd curiously speculate: if we took of running in a straight line through the waist-high grass, how far would we make it before something took us out? We'd ask Eli, and he'd give a serious answer but in a extremely sarcastic tone, "Not very far," so we optimistically settled on a half mile. On the last day, we had to pull a U-turn, which is an ordeal in a 1993 Toyota Land Cruiser on a single track road. As Eli maneuvered back and forth, I aimlessly but adamantly stared about 30 meters out the window, convinced I'd be able to decipher which movements were just the wind and which were animals. My focus was broken by Eli yelling, in his joyful accent, "Oh my goodness!" Our endless K-turns had inevitably gone off the road, and no more than 8 feet off into the grass and directly under my line of sight laid a group of four languid lions. They had been totally unfazed by our presence, contently camouflaged, up until the point we nearly backed over them. The male, the least of the concerned, yawned, got up, and disappeared into the grass before our eyes. Our 2,640 foot projection had just been undercut by 2,632 feet.     https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520296816409-VXLJMK1ONQVAUMT20KVX/claire+2-8.jpg Places Serengeti National Park, Tanzania (August 2014) It was 7:30am. We'd been in the Land Cruiser since 5:15, when we left camp for the far north of the park. As we circled around a large rock formation, the plains that had seemed vast before became endless. I don't know if we were at the northern edge of the park or not, but it felt like we were at the edge of the world. It was by far one of the most surreal moments of my life. As Eli turned off the engine, total and complete silence fell over us. Not the New York silence where there is miraculously no honking, no one on the street yelling "Fuck you,' and your upstairs neighbors are fucking on their shitty bedframe at the same time. Not even the silence of sitting alone in your room in the dark, with only the hum of your A/C. Literally, silent. No nearby trees meant not even the whistle of birds or ruffling of leaves. Eerily silent. After about 90 seconds, my ears adjusted, like an iris in the dark, and I could pick out the crunching of grass. Despite being nearly 100 meters from us, you could hear the twig-like legs of the tower brushing against the grass as they floated across the horizon. When one of the group did feel the need to talk, it was in a whisper, like you would in a museum when you don't know exactly why you're whispering but it feels appropriate so you just do. I didn't say anything. I just remember whispering to myself in my head, "How is this the same planet that I am accustomed to?" https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297323300-4FMVQ4CTWPZLUVIBMBHY/claire+2-157.jpg Places Copenhagen, Denmark (January 2017) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520296852627-J8XK9APS43H27L33I9G0/claire+2-14.jpg Places Serengeti National Park, Tanzania (August 2014) It was dry season in the Serengeti, and while our guide, Eli, swore it would look like the lush garden of Eden come a couple months, the vast landscape before us was beautifully monochromatic brown. The amber savannah grass acted as the foundation from which beige rock formations shot up. The slender silhouettes of acacia trees, whose elevated patches of leaves could only be described as cumulus-like and offered the only splash of green to the landscape, dotted the horizon. (Each time I saw them, I'd hear Bob Ross saying "happy little clouds.") Baobabs, with their squat and leafless stature, made a perfect complement to the acacias. While not as numerous as the acacias, they added just enough sturdiness to the barren landscape, as if holding it all down from floating away. The terrifying vastness of the plains was broken only by the remnants of rivers, now just deep chocolate, dried mud beds with the occasional stagnant watering hole, and a network of dusty, copper dirt roads, which we relied on to navigate back to our oasis of khaki tents in a monochromatic world https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297300911-FNR64LHJHTW2QMXM8H6W/claire+2-165.jpg Places Nashville, IN (November 2016)     https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520296894712-9H5S2WQEX79N299KAF5S/claire+2-24.jpg Places Bushwick, Brooklyn, NY (December 2014) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297270323-5BOTBETV52F53ZF62MVO/claire+2-150.jpg Places Christiania, Copenhagen, Denmark (January 2017) In the midst of Copenhagen’s modern design, elegant architecture, and royal history sits the stark contrast that is Freetown Christiania. “Formed” when artists and hippies moved into abandonned military barracks, it has a long anti-establishment history and is now a self-proclaimed autonomous district. As we walked through the vendors, food carts, craftsmen, and aimless vagabonds, the unapologetic authenticity was palpable. Within a 5 minute span, I watched a small boy and his father shred a graffiti covered half pipe and was told I couldn’t take photos and forcibly made to delete them all from my phone by a drug dealer, who for whatever reason the city has turned a blind eye to in Christiania. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297157885-GS0E37YBUA6BXKGGO7YM/claire+2-115.jpg Places Malmo, Sweden (January 2017) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520296891776-EK4STH7J2DCRC33LALDO/claire+2-25.jpg Places Bushwick, Brooklyn, NY (December 2014) The best things, the things that took time to make, that had all of the details in them like love, smiles, laughs, cuddles, drunk sex, inside jokes, all fade with time. The ugly things, the quick one-offs that took a second, the things that because they won't go away easily are just left there to ruminate, the things that others felt the need to impose with, stick around. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297234108-AMIOFKAW9ZXIATTW8U9N/claire+2-143.jpg Places SoHo, New York, NY (August 2017) I love New York; I hate New York. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520296895000-29XBB7MU6L87TO0IINDR/claire+2-26.jpg Places Princeton, NJ (February 2014) Many a nights after hours of studying for nothing in particular except to keep my head above water in each class, I would be walking home from the library exhausted to the point of overstimulation. I’d walk by names of people long long dead on beaches and courtyards and arches and various other miscellaneous features they deemed necessary to name and momentarily yearn for their entire life story. I’d notice a gargoyle that I’d never given attention to before, despite it always being there… decades longer than I’d been alive. I’d bump into classmates who, after a shot of espresso, were heading BACK to the library and wonder if they acknowledged the beauty around them, and if not, would they regret that later? That was really the key to “thriving” at Princeton: noticing the beauty in it all. In the highs. The lows. The struggles. The frustrations. Despite the seemed magnitude of it then, it was all a beautiful privilege to experience. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520296929128-R06NYQ7PG8UA8W2FA7EI/claire+2-38.jpg Places St. Paul's Cathedral, Vatican City (July 2015) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297283718-ZSLD10EID8JKFYX8WPSP/claire+2-168.jpg Places Princeton, NJ (August 2013) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297008274-48O4R6VN7OPZ6XFA2T21/claire+2-65.jpg Places Parq Guell, Barcelona, Spain (July 2015) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520296914667-XF8NR03I7CWLB6Q4FUS9/claire+2-33.jpg Places - Icons Che Guevara's Resting Place Santa Clara, Cuba (June 2015) Individuals become icons for many reasons. Some do good, some do bad, some lead revolutions while others stand over air vents. Most die young, but all of them are diluted down into what made them iconic. Leadership. Sex. Rebellion. Courage. Creativity. Style. Like the history books written by the defeated, all other traits are forgotten. Some argue these characteristics diminish the stature, meaning, or importance of each individual's impact, but I argue the opposite. They make them human, and in being human, just like you and I, their impact, good or bad, real or fictional, is emboldened. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520296944492-CKST1TQIPD8GAN0UYWWH/claire+2-41.jpg Places Roma, Italy (July 2015) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1533334018278-B1ZWHSCIWC8DW43M410U/IMG_1142.JPG Places https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1533334898643-M7XG95LUGM5AQ216TDN7/IMG_1138.JPG Places Lighthouse Beach, Eleuthera, Bahamas https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1533334023384-ZEG0RNZGOAW8PGKUJ9VO/IMG_1130.JPG Places Eleuthera, Bahamas (July 2018) A rotten wooden sign, its white coat of paint severely chipping from the tropical humid air, hung from a tree along Queens Highway. “The Cliffs” it read with an arrow pointing east, towards the deep blue Atlantic. We sped past it on our first day, tired from travel and only half way through our hour drive. Although its condition, the sign was of the nicest, most legible ones along the route, so I figured it would be a well-established destination for tourists. When we did make it to The Cliffs, there wasn’t a single sign of humanity. It felt like the moon and the end of the world had collided. And as we stood at the edge and looked down at the swells below, the water was so clear it looked only feet deep. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297300515-8D1S2VUSO3EM9DO8YKW8/claire+2-163.jpg Places Museé Olympique, Lausanne, Switzerland (June 2017) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520296943803-8GMJHY0PABLL4Q5KH24B/claire+2-42.jpg Places Vatican City, Roma, Italy (July 2015) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520296989569-551LPSRZC8N51YJJRL5Z/claire+2-55.jpg Places Venzia, Italy (July 2015) Our European journey perfectly aligned with our personalities: intellectual excursions of history, art, and culture were planned but only if the hangover of the previous night’s outing permitted. We had graduated weeks prior in a rainy culmination of four years at one of the most prestigious institutions in the world. And I say that not in boasting but in awe. I, and the ones I became closest too, weren’t overly concerned with ‘prestige.’ I hadn’t been destined to attend an Ivy League school since birth; it was an opportunity given to me that I was, and forever will be, grateful for. I simply wanted to chase the knowingly futile endeavor of running and being able to do so with “Princeton” across my chest was an easy choice. The highs and lows that would accompany that decision were unfathomable. Stress and tension, no matter how chill you were, are omnipresent when the concentration of perfectionists is so high. Add the black and white nature of running and those four years were heaven and hell at once. Even those most capable of “the big picture” were caught up in the rat race of it. “I need to finish this paper. I need to get an good grade on this. I need to impress this person. I need to.. I need to.. “ Less than 30 days after it all ended, as we sat along the Grand Canal, our feet dangling into the brackish water, passing bottles of Cabernet and Merlot back and forth in order to decide what one we liked better, the vain obscurity of it all was already blatantly obvious. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520296965279-ZN19NJ04PECX1GNQODVE/claire+2-49.jpg Places Praiano, Italy (July 2015) We rented a car in Naples. A manual Fiat Panda; I drove since I was the only one who knew how to drive stick. It was an easy enough concept, until we found ourselves on a two-way road that was no more than a lane and a half wide on the side of a cliff overlooking the Tyrrhenian Sea. Charter buses of tourists and semi-trucks filled with lemons sped around the corners as if they were Fiat Pandas, and a Fiat Panda is not a nimble car. A few times we turned off the main road into what we though would be small coastal towns. Each one was only a few hundred feet off of the main road but hundreds of feet below in elevation, and each one felt too "commercial” with pre-arranged beach chairs and pinstriped umbrellas. On the fourth turn off, we found Praiano nestled between the cliffs. As we settled in among the rowboats and jumped from the cliffs with the local children, we were confident we’d found a local gem. Then the gay couple next to Mazz told us they were from Toms River. https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297070620-58WSMH9SJN6D3AXC38OO/claire+2-101.jpg Places Bloomington, IN (November 2016) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297104311-Y5WPOFZC0SZDVBC15YDA/claire+2-102.jpg Places Malmo, Sweden (January 2017) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520311468943-O1SDTZK3O7DQUTLGFWJ0/claire+2-108.jpg Places Malmo, Sweden (January 2017) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297156015-38HPCQUCSOCO550AM5R0/claire+2-113.jpg Places Malmo, Sweden (January 2017) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297154548-Y2H79FVVYGFCHIILY93A/claire+2-112.jpg Places Malmo, Sweden (January 2017) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297155777-537RQ1OJCQSZ9BW6Y1BC/claire+2-114.jpg Places Malmo, Sweden (January 2017) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297157211-HWE2OY7YL06ASWFVP1D3/claire+2-116.jpg Places Copenhagen, Denmark (January 2017) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297233522-0HCNMFKFNVFVJJ564E3B/claire+2-144.jpg Places New Malmo, Sweden (January 2017) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520297300464-DS1NPXCO51GXAQHEQXRS/claire+2-164.jpg Places Bloomington, IN (October 2016) https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1643233551208-R7POIDQSQGNXMWED8QJL/image-asset.jpeg Places https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1643233693450-ACG47TZ16HWO4UZN7O2G/image-asset.jpeg Places https://www.connorjmartin.com/papers daily 0.75 2022-01-26 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1522866276513-SQ8JH64F3H0WCGC1KDPA/Screen+Shot+2018-04-04+at+12.23.44+PM.png papers - god(s) listens to jazz                             https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1522866276513-SQ8JH64F3H0WCGC1KDPA/Screen+Shot+2018-04-04+at+12.23.44+PM.png papers - god(s) listens to jazz                             https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1522792693637-HGYYZZ227JVJBXZWKZ7T/Screen+Shot+2018-04-03+at+3.31.11+PM.png papers - lonliness is the worst vanity                             https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1526100964167-HQEJ8ILSJYYWXIPFDIVT/Screen+Shot+2018-05-11+at+10.56.58+PM.png papers - normalcy in relative but you can keep it https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1522792856125-JC7SXU2EPF41ZL4K0L39/Screen+Shot+2018-04-03+at+4.00.06+PM.png papers - 85 on 70                             https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1522866243665-CNYLTZOH7V8GAVVUQNYB/Screen+Shot+2018-04-04+at+12.23.44+PM.png papers https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1522789762012-OW9YY3P4L88V62XKRPOF/Screen+Shot+2018-04-03+at+3.08.57+PM.png papers https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1522864059917-BZ4LQ4KWORE09V5N8M56/Screen+Shot+2018-04-04+at+11.45.52+AM.png papers - anoche                             https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1522792263513-DYAO9PWNYHDH5TMPKWW8/Screen+Shot+2018-04-03+at+3.50.23+PM.png papers - bryan beers                             https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1526131836275-T6BVQYAQQR3NQXJKDT2W/Screen+Shot+2018-05-12+at+7.30.18+AM.png papers - if you know, i don't believe you https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1522863617809-7R8Q0OYVGVGK5MALMEUJ/Screen+Shot+2018-04-04+at+11.38.39+AM.png papers - millennial anthem                             https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1526098800093-6R5VCGLP55NSBTC13HO9/Screen+Shot+2018-05-11+at+10.21.00+PM.png papers - henoamory https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1522788578116-II3KDC2UNMNB8J9EZGA0/Screen+Shot+2018-04-03+at+2.49.13+PM.png papers https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1526101641349-DT3VTSO9R88VJRKZ1119/Screen+Shot+2018-05-11+at+11.06.03+PM.png papers - four word tragedies https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1522863572470-CHTEGDB2KJP6G60Z8Q2C/Screen+Shot+2018-04-04+at+11.38.39+AM.png papers https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1522788456531-4UYEZQREZHLG26L8NVU8/Screen+Shot+2018-04-03+at+2.47.11+PM.png papers https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1522788016737-MM8TRN996F0URT24M8MW/Screen+Shot+2018-04-03+at+2.39.51+PM.png papers https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1520896133769-GXZNWY7JN6YGCND3CXRU/Scan+2018-3-7+20.49.14.jpg papers https://www.connorjmartin.com/contact daily 0.75 2018-08-03 https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/5a9d69693c3a538d28b0d0d1/1522449427594-BG0WIWR77CHSJ79U09T9/SB14.3.jpg About https://www.connorjmartin.com/resume daily 0.75 2018-03-06