Rik Garrett's photographs are thin slivers of time taken from waking dreams: sublime and seductive, blurred and yet completely refined, so serene and profound. Crisp visuals slip away from realism with a smooth, inebriated grace. His work not only relishes the beauty of the female form in which it courts, but washes over it with a sense of languid reverie allowing our subject to openly draw us through a beautiful infatuation.
His portraits are often captured with discontinued film and camera. They reference distant time, both in process and memento. Like a collection of forgotten lovers, each with a unique history and still a part of cuffed, sensual chronology. In fact, Rik does just this is his paired pictorials, The White and The Black Book (respectively). As you peruse through their pages, lacquer-drenched scenes are saturated thick with a thought-provoking catalog of clippings which toe the line of time capsule and love letter.
Ultimately, Rik's seemingly preterit, ambiguous forms are layered in rich tales, whether tall or true, that faintly whisper that, yes... true love does prevail.