Solidarity of Separation
The human hand can never hold anything, will never know touch. We think we have the ability but these are our delusions. Our sensations come from within our separate selves. The atoms in our hands, in our skin, never touch the atoms of any object or another’s skin. There is always empty space between these collections of loosely bound fragments. Even every atom is mostly empty space.
Isolated. Sterile.
The paper, with its thin layer of chemicals hovering over its surface, is neither a part of the light that it was exposed to, the images projected with that light, nor that of the scene where the images were captured. They are alone. The only bond they share is the one to each other, by a concept.
These images were designed to capture this concept of disunity, both as a state of being and of an emotional milieu . They were arranged with respect to the models’ own biographical concepts of isolation. The arrangements were kept honest to factual situations in order to more aptly portray the purity of emotion in proper context.
There were four sets or stories brought into focus in these prints. Three sets contain the stories of three couples separated by physical distance, emotional discongruity, or a verbal barrier. The fourth set is an entirely autobiographical portrayal of the artist’s sense of disconnection nearing perpetuity.
Doing time for someone else’s passionate crimes
My crime was nearly undetectable. Even if it weren’t,
the fighters of crime were too busy fighting off
their own guilty passion.
Pandeer, Deerda, Dandeer.
Don’t blame the geneticists, blame the genes for wanting to be tinkered with.
Tea parties and dreams of better things
How long do I have to sleep
to wake up without you
so near,
pouty boy?
