Embedded Files
About
I set out, as one does, to get from one place to another, and began asking strangers if I might photograph them. Most, to my lasting surprise, said yes. A photograph is a thread, however thin, back to someone who was there, in actual light. I claim no empire, only a camera and a habit of saying hello, but everyone here took a step closer rather than run way and looked at me, and now they look at you. People put up walls or put on costumes; they tell a nervous joke or hide behind gold sunglasses. Then, for about a sixtieth of a second, something slips and a real person looks back. As I age, my memories fade, and I turn to photography to grasp what slips away. They were here. So was I.
(Title after Roland Barthes, Camera Lucida, 1980.)
Thirty-six frames.
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
9.
10.
11.
12.
13.
14.
15.
16.
17.
18.
19.
20.
21.
22.
23.
24.
25.
26.
27.
28.
29.
30.
31.
32.
33.
34.
35.
36.
Google Sites
Report abuse