The city is covered in plywood. Everything in the process of construction seems to be surrounded by the swirling knots and grain patterns of a plywood barrier.
I'm interested in plywood as an assemblage of layers of frozen, visible time.
Photography is a meditation on the perception of time. Movement, any type of movement, fascinates me because it is an exploration of time.
A photograph of movement is a document of the succession of continuity. When photographed, a movement is shown the way it existed in a specific moment -- it was different both before and after the way we see it isolated in a photograph. Therefore, you can't consider the essence of movement without considering the essence of time.
Paradoxically, although movement can be photographed, it does not actually exist in a fixed state -- it is not an object we can return to.
I'm constantly seeking out examples of time other that movement: physical examples I can study for a period of time that isn't dictated by movement itself.
Of course this logically brings me to the study of plywood.
I'm interested in plywood as an assemblage of layers of frozen, visible time.
Photography is a meditation on the perception of time. Movement, any type of movement, fascinates me because it is an exploration of time.
A photograph of movement is a document of the succession of continuity. When photographed, a movement is shown the way it existed in a specific moment -- it was different both before and after the way we see it isolated in a photograph. Therefore, you can't consider the essence of movement without considering the essence of time.
Paradoxically, although movement can be photographed, it does not actually exist in a fixed state -- it is not an object we can return to.
I'm constantly seeking out examples of time other that movement: physical examples I can study for a period of time that isn't dictated by movement itself.
Of course this logically brings me to the study of plywood.
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