I had fear in my stomach, fear in my heart and then images and a distinct sense of time rushed into my eyes and then everything was on hold for a bit.
Does a single moment change a life ? Sometimes we make up connections, cause and effect links to comfort ourselves.
I put this here with the secret hope that you will read it from where you are.
The secret hope also that images and stories can change the world, even if, most of times, they fail at it.
Why even bother to add an image more in a world past the point of saturation ?
Are we not driven out of a sense of our physical subjective existence, 1 million images at a time ?
Do we feel ourselves as a whole ?
Have we not, like Frank Ocean sings in Seigfried,
¨Been living in an idea
An idea from another man’s mind¨ ?
Now more than ever ?
I know. Accumulating on the side of abstraction and oblivion weirdly feels like pouring sweat and tears into a real tangible life.
So it is both bold and tragic to believe in the transformative power of photography, against all evidence.
I have no banner, no prescription, no certainty, no proof.
I know nothing.
I see what I am.
I understand that the lens points inward when it seeks something real.
I am what I see.