A continued investigation of perception.
Photographs can feel like truth, confirmation that what we reveal is certain. I am intrigued by the illusory component of photography that invites wonder and poses questions, hinting at an unseen world.
The Burnt photographs began as an attempt to rid my studio space of excess photographic prints, tests, contact sheets, printing mistakes and dead ends. The prints are burned in a large recycled oil barrel. I watch faces disappear in to a flame, landscapes shrivel and darken to black. Memories are triggered as I see these photographs change into a different form. I think about how we try and stop time with a photograph, try to hold on to a moment so fleeting. So goes this burning.
The sparks fly high out of the barrel into the air. The smoke billows. Often it takes a single match to start the fire, other times it takes many more. The ash swirls around inside the deep barrel and then comes to rest on the bottom. A strong wind will lift the ash into the air, scatter it across my surroundings, and allow new layers of detritus to surface. Worlds emerge in the bottom of the barrel, a scorched planet, our earth, a moon.
Beauty appears unannounced in these ruins. I never cease to revel in discovery and the generosity of attention. The remains become the subject of my focus. They bind destruction with restoration and apparition with presence. The barrel holds a geological strata of ephemera and residue – a continuous dialog between collapse and creation.