Back from Block Island with about a million digital negatives that I shot over the nine-day trip. Right out of the gate I find myself in a conundrum. I found this house that was once a church. I mopeded over to photograph it. At the time it seemed to present a fairly straight forward photograph. Planning on it being a Black & White and all that but then I get back here to Kansas City and when I look at the negative I shot it explodes with all kinds of possible stories.
I was closing on the tower. It was round with a pointed roof cap a good four stories above me. It was completely black but not like dirty stone streaked with ages of dust storms and polluted air, no it shined in the tepid moonlight reminding me of obsidian. No, it was obsidian and the surface was covered with ancient words. As hard as it was for me to believe, the tower looked to be one single piece of stone carved into this shape. As I approached, it loomed overhead shining black like the natural glass it was. This tower had been forged in the heart of a volcano and born perfectly formed just for this purpose. The writing had been etched with painstaking accuracy onto the tower’s glass surface then fused with a power that made the
As an artist I look at the world differently than most or at least I’ve been told that. I’m interested in the how of things and also the why of things. When I first heard of fractal geometry it had never occurred to me that their needed to be a geometry that would describe the construction of clouds and trees.
Christmas looming and I’m still back in October. I just get stuck there every year. I love days in October when the wind is blustering about and stirring up leaves and making a mess of the world. It reminds me of my mind.
The Limited Edition is now out.
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