The silhouettes and ghostly traces she conjures with sumi and walnut inks are insistent and ephemeral.
Lyon was not the run-of-the-mill concerned photographer hoping for photographic notoriety; he was seeking revolution.
Baltimore is an intimate place. We know each other. We call it ‘Small-timore.”
22. You employed rubbled lots like ravaged proscenia. It’s Waiting for Godot in Harlem.
Finding photographs is a different adventure than taking photographs. Nostalgia and irony are the first obstacles to overcome.
Are these runners paranoid and delusional, or are they visionary?
Hibernation is a liminal space between life and death, a limbo.
Perhaps there is another way of knowing the world other than by our narrow habits of classification.
Ringo’s soul patch was particularly unnerving.