self, things, matter
13:13 on Wednesday, February 05, 2003 • Responses off
There are times when I feel invisible, as if my existence has no mass. I’m sure everyone experiences this or something like this. I’ve been feeling this for quite some time now. Sometimes it’s nice; I’m definitely comfortable with being unnoticed…in fact most of the time I’d prefer it. But sometimes it feels like I’m screaming at the top of my voice to a world with no ears. A certain nihilism inevitably develops under these circumstances.
Photography has been boring me lately, even troubling me. Looking through the lens of a camera, all becomes thing: thing in light, thing in shadow, thing of contrast, thing of texture. So you fuck around with the aperture and filters and ISO etc. and get the desired exposure, and, well, you have a picture of things. Even people in photographs become things. Things getting married. Little baby things stumbling around a park. Things, things, all things. Sometimes I think photography is evil because if you take enough photographs—if you start seeing the world as a catalog of potential pictures—it becomes more and more difficult to feel connected, put together. Sometimes this makes me want to disassemble my camera in protest.
I don’t think pictures capture moments or memories. I want these things-in-pictures to move, I think. Not like images from a video camera…it’s more like I want proof that what’s in the picture somehow transcends thingness. I suppose it’s a bit like wanting from a god..any god… some sign…any sign… that gods exist.
Anyway, don’t mind the pseudo-existential blathering on. Here—go look at some things from New Orleans and Tucson. Comments can be left in that section, anywhere.
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