Withersin’s Damned Interview with:
B.A. Bosaiya
I am a self-taught, award-winning, internationally
recognized and exhibited fine art photographer who specializes in large format
photographs of unusual subjects. I enjoy finding the beauty in the overlooked
and discarded, exploring the extraordinary world that is all around us every
day. The world is still mysterious and full of surprises; I hope to help people
rekindle that sense of wonder. My first book of photography Here There Be Dragons, available from Amazon.com
and others, includes a foreword by photographic luminary and master printer Dr.
Tim Rudman.
My artwork has put me in contact with people all over the
globe whom I never would have known otherwise, and although I am a recluse by nature
I welcome the chance to speak with others who have found enlightenment in the
wonders of childhood imagination.
List published works:
Exhibitions
Publications
Awards
List website: www.bosaiya.com
How can we contact you?
contact@bosaiya.com
is the direct route but if you want a response I prefer actual written
correspondence and respond best to that.
In your own words, define
Withersin.
A
fresh voice in an otherwise oversaturated market.
If you were a sideshow act,
what would you be?
An
old-fashioned curly-mustachioed strong man combined with The Tattooed Man, I
look the part. You would have to get to know me better to hear the other
combinations.
What is your greatest
non-literary influence?
The natural world around me. Nothing else can compare or inspire. Every time I look
around me I am in awe and wish that I were a poet because words fail me
completely and I am left with only the atavistic feelings of our ancient
primate ancestors as they looked to the sky with wonder. From the mind-numbing
intensity of the sun rising over a mountain, spilling its liquid gold into the
lake as fish jump and snap for their morning meal to the intimate mid-air dance
of two houseflies as they swoop and buzz around the room avoiding the dust
motes that rise in the warming air at magic hour when orange sunlight pours
through the windows, I am never at a lack for inspiration, I just wish that my
attempts at reverence of the world’s beauty weren’t so clumsy.
Describe your most irrational
fear.
Of open water. My
parents took me to see Jaws while vacationing in Montauk one summer when I was
young. I’m not afraid of things I can see, sharks or whatever, but of what I can’t see. I recently went
hand-to-tooth-and-spine against a four-foot pike that took away more of me than
I did of it and fear never entered my mind, but making my way back across the
lonely lake at dawn I was filled with uneasiness at the empty expanse of water
around me.
How about your
most guilty pleasure?
I
brew my own chai from spices I purchase and mill
myself, boiling down the mixture until the liquid is thick and strong. Then I
drink it from a dainty little teacup and saucer with sugar and cream.
Name the most disturbing
nursery rhyme/fairy tale you can recall.
I
have been re-reading the original Grimm’s Fairy Tales and they are all
beautifully horrific, filled with such violent and sexual imagery as to be
downright shocking at times. Very little of today’s literature can hope to
compare. The most bang-for-the-buck, in my mind, goes to the brief and horrible
“Stubborn Child”, whose very brevity and anonymity touches the deepest fears in
us all.
Do you eat meat?
Very infrequently.
I am not opposed to it morally or religiously, it’s just not something that I
eat regularly.
What were the skies like
when you were young?
They
went on forever, and they- the skies always had little fluffy clouds, and they
were long and clear and there were lots of stars at night. And when it rained
it would all turn, it- they were beautiful. The most beautiful skies as a
matter of fact! The sunsets were purple and red and yellow and on fire and the
clouds would catch the colors everywhere, that’s- it’s neat, because I used to
look at them all the time when I was little, you don’t see that anymore.
Name your favorite garden
tool.
It
never occurred to me to name it before, how about Ferdinand?
Name your least favorite
color, first job and worst job.
Anything bright and artificial, a newspaper route, that
same newspaper route.
Favorite: Author,
Movie, Music Group, Song, and Quote.
It
would be difficult to choose a favorite author; I enjoy the terse language of a
good Hemingway as much as the ham-fisted prose of Mickey Spillane,
the wildly vivid descriptiveness of Hunter S. Thompson and the mouth-watering
detail of Thomas Mann. I mostly read non-fiction and Neil Stephenson’s articles
are nothing short of brilliant.
Same
with movies, how can I choose between the both equally tear inducing Atlantis by Luc Besson
and Mel Brooks’ Blazing Saddles? or L’Aventurra
over The Seven Samurai or The Asphalt Jungle? I do have a soft
spot for Herschell Gordon Lewis and grindhouse movies in general, though, and think that the
folks at Something Weird should be sainted or knighted, so let’s say my
favorite is Blood Feast and be done
with it, although Duck You Sucker! would have to be up there someplace.
I
do enjoy
I
don’t really keep quotes handy, the one that comes to mind is the wonderful
headline “Legs cut off!” which you have to see in context to appreciate.
If you were a loaf of bread
what kind would you be?
A loaf of freshly baked artisan bread.
Weirdest news you have read
in your local newspaper:
“Zombies invade Sumner!”
Why horror?
Horror
is a wonderful “anything goes” super-genre with endless sub-categories and
niches. The world is a cruel and terrible, as well as a kind and beautiful,
place. Horror allows us to get under the surface where things are uncomfortable
and dirty and all of our modern advancements fail. People who live in cities
forget that there are still plenty of wild things out there in the world, some
on the outskirts of their suburbs, which will drag you down and feed upon your
meat or prick your skin and leave you bloated and rotting weeks later. Horror
puts us in touch with that primal fear in a way that staring down
a cougar or alligator does, but without the worrisome possibilities and change
of clothing those entail.
Here's a photo. (seen on Interview main
page)
“INEDIBLE NOT INTENDED FOR HUMAN FOOD”
You
have 112 words. Go.
Obviously
there is a strong likelihood of confusion for any roving bands of hungry
post-apocalyptic survivors that might stumble across this truck in search of
sustenance. But if it is not fit for humans to eat, then who, or what, will eat
the contents? I’ve done a bit of traveling and I can tell you that there is
nothing, and I do mean nothing, that
some people won’t eat. It must be full of those whacky plastic imitation
Chinese-food meals you see in display cases while waiting for a seat in your
favorite restaurant, the one where everyone seems to get a seat before you no
matter how well you tip.
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