Loneliness and encounters, discovery, night, music, jazz, elegies, anxieties. Images. Traveling through a world filled with life, some silent melody humming in the background, cries jump out of images. There are dried flowers, the shadow of a base, mirrors, shattered glass, hair, remnants of human activity, drips of water, sand, ...light. This is a labyrinth of images through which the artist, and the spectator, move back and forth, discovering, opening spaces deeper under the emptiness of the theater of reality.
Images. Black, white, shades, grey. Shapes. Reflections. Images are telling stories, related to other stories, woven into other images, referring to other images, referring to other dreams. A puzzling game, images mirrored by other images; wandering from one image to another, back and forth, the hunt for hints. Clues are scattered around, answers there to grasp.
But the visitor the viewer the reader is asking, gasping nearly, for more. Day to day questions, what is this is this is that is what is photo image painting technique what is that is what is it, what, what? The creator remains silent, and will not talk. (It’s all so remotely beside the point). Images are talking, painting, telling – as was that horn player blowing his songs in the wind down on a bridge in a big city. (Sonny R, east broadway rolling down; David M, Sketches of Tokyo.) The images are the story, and contain all the clues.
Circles of expanding possibilities are fast closing up. Maybe I will remain silent for now…