Jan 142018

Ça s’peut c’est pas mal de cela qu’on se regarde dans un miroir, avec l’argent qui se pelle sur l’endos en minces bandes d’étamine de bijoutier. En ce jour les pluies on descendus des cieux sans tout au moins épargner les pauvres et les riches. Il fait trop chaud pour l’hiver de Terra Nova; saison qui a conquérit les envahisseurs pour bien des hivers mais pas assez pour sauver les gens pour qui cette terre était la leur.

Aujourd’hui c’est la maladie des Blancs qui nous mets à l’épreuve et on n’y peut rien autre que de s’y en faire. Chèr Trump qui nous Trompe et nous estompe de la malignance d’un peuple trop faible pour vivre trop ignorant pour s’en faire. Voilà, c’est a ton tour de chanter des chansons d’amour. Les mots the Genet nous frôle du passage, nous graffigne comme le chant de Pierre Guyotat, amère et ensanglanté d’une violence hors de portée mais clairsemée dans un jardin d’expulsion.


Band aids

Band Aids and Salve, to heal all ills.


Jun 162013

And I have been wondering lately, wondering a lot actually, about what has become of the image. The photographic image to be precise. The reflection is not nostalgic, melancholic or anything like that; it is critical, whimsical and with any luck at all optimistic. The ease, speed and technical apparatus for taking pictures has become absolutely and totally ubiquitous. Instagram is everywhere, curating assembled visions of the world by simply adding a # in front of a word. A couple of clicks here and there and one has a high quality, limited edition, audience focussed bound volume, in full colour and showing all the smiles and chuckles of the quotidian.

One cannot but think of Seymour Parrish’s overdub “Family photos do keep smiling faces. Births, weddings, holidays, children’s birthday parties… People take pictures of the happy moment in their lives. Someone looking through a photo album could conclude we had lead a joyous, leisurely existence. Free of tragedy. No one ever takes a picture of something they want to forget.” [One Hour Photo, 2002]

St. John's Trio

St. John’s Newfoundland, 2012

Now, we are taking photographs of all our moments, not always the smiley face happy times (though there is always a plethora of grins, real and staged, to wade through). What is interesting is asking ourselves whether this represents the final secularization of the image, of all images. Does this strip away meaning? Does it prove that looking for meaning was/is a red herring?

In many ways, the “art” photographer’s job was indeed to try and accumulate the images of those things that we very well may want to forget. Sometimes this could take the guise of making a statement on various constructions of social co-existence,  recording a moment of ephemeral passage, creating a record of whatever. All this fancy language seems utterly useless to interpret what is happening now that these statements are made by vast curated assemblages represented by the #tag.

The image is finally free of the maker, is it?