The Lens at the End of the Line Break

Yeats Unveiled, Peripherally, With A Silly Point and Shoot

The soul of every good negative is the light in water.

With a camera, I could feel the interior lives of objects not given the opportunity to live as we live.

I mistook Sontag for Susan Sontag.

After all, they were my White People, not his, my captures, not the community’s.

Word selfies — the selves of the word as it flies from one form of itself to another freer form of itself.

We write with light but the true page of the world, darkness, is what we write on.

I used to think of a lens as a tree that could be used to climb anything.

Some photographs guide the world back to itself by pulling the world apart, then putting it back very quickly.

At the crossroads of Roland Barthes, John Berger, and Jean Toomer, Crank Shaped Notes is about language and loss as much as it is about music and government.

Still Photography is full of inner life lured into a larger inner life. The mirror of infinity is life.

Photography helps the past drown the present and the present resuscitate myth.

Every time you pick up a camera, you are facing another camera.

But where do faces come from — the places before us, the places before ageless poetry and un-aimed photography or have they not come yet?

I have never seen a single mechanical mood in any of his images but I did see him, often, eliminate the split-second boundary between joy and pain.