In accordance with our Latin predecessors and their lyrical tongues, Amadeus means to love god: amare, “to love” and deus, “god.” With Falco’s jam on repeat in our minds, we nod our heads to life and the amazing creativity that it unleashes upon us.
As an inclusive publication, we prefer to love the life we’re allotted rather than give credit to a higher unknown being. This second installment of Disco Naps is an ode to life through our exposed memories. We’re usually wearing either a Canon-AE1 or Minolta XG-SE camera around our necks; they’re more body part than accessory. We snap pictures of anything or anyone as we lug our charges on field trips into familiar and unknown cities, photographing the people, the scenery, the lost.
Amadeus is always in the back of our minds – emails, deadlines, artists, collaborations – but mostly because of the passion it imposes.
Disco Naps cuts up the passing human life that viewers so admire and adore to focus on the things that people usually overlook, busy with their own preoccupations, not even noticing. It divvies up our experiences to highlight every place, person, emotion that’s blurred by the blanketing memory.
These still frames silently capture the noise of the east coast: the beloved Providence and our home sans home, Boston. Some are special to us, others aren’t; some may resonate with our readers, others won’t. They’re our little love letters to the world.
Take a pause from life to revel in it – we sure as hell do.
