Greyness descends like a shroud
A cloak
A blind
No, the words are there
They are always there
But I cannot hear them
Cannot see them
And so the world seems grey
Sounds like white noise
The guileless hum
Of a refrigerator
No, the words are there
They are always there
But I cannot hear them
Cannot see them
And so the world seems grey
Sounds like white noise
The guileless hum
Of a refrigerator
What I love about ruins most is the gestures of grandeur or utility they once were, the stories of their use, of their place in a time and society which no longer exists. I love them for the markers of history they are, here, now — in the present — how they act as transporters to another time, another place.
My Muses: Geology ~ In the best moments, like on the edge of the San Juan River gorge, that is the transformation I take with me, that feeling of personal divinity, as if I had touched the hand that makes perfection.
I’ve already responded with Function follows Form, which relates how form itself is my favourite subject. Here I want to draw back to my favourite element with which to explore form — and a variety of other subjects — and that has to be paint. When I bought my first professional camera in nearly 15 years, the first shots were all painted surfaces. Some abstractions. Others records of communication. Still others were essays on the environment in which the surface was painted.