Langscape

Construction Time Again

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An eighties moment, a Dépêche Mode song… the state of things on the provincial highways. There is an intersection between the time people are on the roads and the time that the roads are being repaired. This cannot be avoided but stands as a veritable perfect metaphor for the infamous double bind. Damned if you do, fucked if you don’t. It is not entirely unpleasant, it is not necessary to move at the speed of light. If one let’s the light pass, it will show you things, most interesting and wondrous things.

Photography is movement at the speed of light, or as close as we can get at the with present technology. It will freeze an instant, a moment, a thought or a musing in a still, forever to be examined, space where time has been arrested for vagrancy. But at the same time, as Penny Cousineau so astutely observed, it is death. It kills time for the benefit of art and seeing. It creates a boundary between mortality and insignificance.

Insignificance.

Sounds like such a big word.

And yet it means nothing.

– Posted from GEDEON XXIII

Location:

To the east old man

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On our way to Bay Roberts, with the obligatory stops on the way. There is something with traveling more slowly. In the past couple of years I have been moving around by airplane quite often, more than ever in my life actually.

There is a pleasure in air travel, the sensation of lifting off the ground always brings a smile to my face. Once in the air though, and this is odd, it seems like space collapses around me; suddenly the bubble of personal space is threatened.

I often think about a passage in Alessandro Baricco’s “Cette histoire là”, describing the landscape from a moving train at the beginning of the century. The notion of moving as fast as the landscape is is fascinating. As if there is a maximum speed that the land can allow us to occupy for any length of time. The streaks of green, blue, white, brown, grey, beige have a value of speed.


– Posted from GEDEON XXIII

Location:Division No. 5, Subd. F,Canada

Waiting on Gadd’s Head

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Image captured while waiting to photograph a kayak tour to Gadd’s Cove; waiting is a good thing for photography, it seems to be then that the unconscious decides to play.

L’attente et l’espoir sont cousines. Comme tous ces liens de familles, la relation n’est pas toujours harmonieuse ni rempli de frictions. On attend… là… ici, n’importe. Quand on attend, il n’y a rien d’autre à faire sauf regarder, sentir et écouter. Ce sont ces temps où le paysage va raconter ses secrets, où le corps entre l’espace par une fente qui est réellement une porte ornée par le va et vient du quotidien.

News from the red planet

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Good news, we have reached our destination according to prescribed itinerary. Rover pushes ahead, opening a path. We travel slowly in the crimson language of this space. It is accommodating in its hostility.