Lately I’ve been submitting work to critique groups, and participating in general camera-club activities. This is supposed to be a good thing to do, which is why I’m doing it. But I’m not kidding myself that it is actually doing me any good. My work tends to be abstract, provocative, and concept-based. I have no interest in creating pretty pictures. To me, a perfect picture of a rose conveys nothing; I’d rather see the real rose.
Give me a destroyed-film emulsion-filtered nostalgia piece any day. I recently created these two shown here, and both give me a feeling of longing for something which is in the past. Maybe it’s the retro, grungy thing, it makes things look firmly rooted in the past, and not the better for wear. I don’t like to dress up the truth, either verbally or in my art. A simple mood is worth more than perfectly color-matched foliage.
I enjoyed creating these two images, and love seeing them. The past haunts our minds and sometimes clouds how we see the present. It’s my gift to myself, to actualize that feeling in photos.