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This last 5 years has been a ‘bitter dose’ to me. I guess I needed it for my spiritual condition but I don’t ever expect to get the taste out of my mouth – Can’t see as I’m much better but maybe I am.
Excerpt of correspondence on verso of a Real Photo Postcard.
The early months of the pandemic allowed for reflection. A search amongst pages on websites for real photo postcards (RPPC) became hallucinatory. Countless images would appear and occasionally spellbind. The eye alighted upon areas within each composition; fragments seemingly encapsulated entire realms. Dreamscapes unfurled. Vistas or windows into states of being. An emanation of light from lost worlds. Shapes formed in recesses of the mind.
I have heard the sounds. The way the images are cropped and associated create sounds: lighting sound, sawmill sound, the sound of people digging, the sound of wood and hammer, the sound of growing vegetables, the sound of fishing and the sound of pages. The cropping of the images involves the words and letters which are treated the same. The diversity and the ways in which images are cropped and reassembled seems infinite.
Juxtapositions took shape. Intuition reigned. The play of natural light struck hard. The chiaroscuro of ‘plein air’ landscape remained a strand beneath. The countenances within the compositions ran a gamut of emotion. A sense of bewilderment was coupled by wonderment; the nature of people and their ways of being. Timeless moments.