Ramblings
sentimental nostalgia smears across the mind like the taste of cinnamon sprinkled over breakfast. broken edges caused by the movement of an object on the scanner bed — the colors break apart. the humming of the white light as it renders the image moving vertically down a track. a camera with no pinhole, rather a light swallowing itself. it’s like a black hole, but the event horizon is the threshold of the physical into the digital. the will never make a statue of us, a misremembered lyric as the opposite is the correct recollection. i always think of that grayed out photograph, a bust portrait of the subject turned away, nude; the extreme low-contrast making their appearance almost disappear. it’s a photograph of longing. these tricks of light: of being swolled and of disappearing in plain sight. a symbolism turned into words at the edge of the heart and soul. a typewriter clicks at the rhythm of a diplomat’s son with the image of dishes piling up in a place where legs crossed. a chaotic cadence keeping cruel time. a back and forth of triplets and eights, of rhythms and samples. in these scanning actions, time and its sounds are captured from the earliest moments near the top and the outro at the bottom. each line follows this logic leaving us with a brief history of time.
as the bricks trickle, a rainforest deluge a raven, a dove . . . [found]
Studio
i was struggling to come with artwork for ciénaga’s srp019, but i broke it down into its literal and metaphorical parts. the process began with a ruler and a magazine. there, i ripped the pages that look interesting, cropping without scissors. the edge of paper looks much more interesting when it is ripped rather than cut. the imperfection of visible fiber makes the technology of paper transparent: a mostly organic material captures inks and pigments for our senses to perceive images, words and scripts. the scanner had been sitting mostly alone in the other room, it was time to bring it back to the desk my room. i threw the different images on the scanning bed and used both hands to rotate, press, push, pull and lift the images. although the outcome is digital, it reminded me of pushing copper plates through a mechanical press: setting the plate, wetting the paper, registering the composition, covering everything with the blankets, turning the wheel, and finally peeling everything to reveal an image. this of course was the first step. this collage would face additional cook time in the digital space. manipulating it’s composition in theoretical space, allowed the image wrap around itself, to be splashed, and to be its own backdrop. the image became a dance of many steps.
Scraps
