The process begins.
As this will be a new investigation for me, my practice of capturing images and any following image mutations will evolve–maybe a little each day. It may be unrecognizable by January, 2014. It may go through stages of curious growth, or lie stunted and repetitive as it grows comfortable with its own curiosity. I’m leaving the doors and windows open. Whatever may come, will come. Whatever will go, will go. Guns blazing. Tires squealing.
This digital experiment is all about the trace–the instant moment where the van hits the street. Where the Santa Clarita of 1984 surges briefly into the present moment, activated by the digital visual, temporarily lit as you engage its arid play of light. Momentarily disrupted by the imperfection of my cell phone camera as it tries to lock on to an LCD image–waves of interference caught in the moment it was frozen in replay.
While I have a core concept in mind, I consider this daily practice a treasure–an adventure where I’m allowed to dig, soft, sort, shoot, taste and try. Grabbing my shovel, map in hand, I’m off on the road and ready for the hunt.
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