Tuesday, August 16, 2011

The only fragments are those that do to their creator what he intended for them. The visual equivalent to this is the self-photograph; with the reluctant look of its subject turned creature, before the lens & the laughter of the image, reveling in its resilience over its assembler.

Yet in the moment of the shot, who’s to say the scene isn’t invisibly touched by the hand of its master? A river wrinkled, a staff blurred mid-motion, a light refracted in the lens's eye; all seem signals of a hand that says, “If I’m no god, then let me hold this image up to one.” For this, too, will be remembered on the Day of Judgment.