I always had an urge of a photo shot of two common but very poetic things in one frame. Beer and condom. And a few years ago I shot one, a beer bottle and a condom on a blank white sheet.
But recently I just decide to use my bed as a platform to retake the photo, the white stuff on the bed sheet is the toothpaste foam that I spill there for mimic of you know what it should be.
Beer and Condom says a lot thing about my feeling of social activity of my generation, especially me, that doesn't mean I get laid regularly, in reality, I'm conceptually a still virgin, if self-sanctification does not technically count as sex, but beer I do drown in it. Seeing my life floating in this foaming surge for years, pulled by the current as my surrounding guides, and the natural desire within me endlessly rolling, yet in this uncertain realm how can one ever get on the shore? It's much easier for one person to hold onto the empty beer barrel and drift, if another person somehow grabs it firmly, then they would probably sink to bottom together. (how lucky are they maybe) But alone still a Yes. so many sleepless nights, and every morning it's an one-man battle to get up.... I believe there are many people stuck in this world. So here, this concept picture I shot would probably speak to them and also inspire them maybe. (Oh, the wet mark on the bed sheet is the beer spill, I cut up a plastic bag and put under the sheet, and then spill some beer and toothpaste. So I don't sleep like a pig.)
Beer and Condom
by Laijon Liu 20111003
I don't know where my life gonna float,
I can't predict my fate and road,
For any hope of prospect I dare not to dream,
but at least I've got now, at least we've got now.
Don't worry about world or politics,
Don't plan for a house or electric cars,
Debt can never bind those simple joys,
Let's go out, pop a beer and condom.
For anyone who doesn't understand why I shot above photos in a setting of bed and stacks of books, I wrote a following ekphrastic poem to explain:
Billions of sperms, billions of seeds
all drown and swim in beer foam
there they should never be
Joy in the bottle, love misses its mark
on this bed of uncertainty
who would dare to dream?
books for wisdom, fool's paradise
just like the intoxicated world
only a sober eye sees