Night Traveling, Day Dreaming, while Mapping my Escapisms, Tracing Love
Steven B. Smith's photography. via Conscientious
Hurricane, Utah, 1997
There are no colors here and my mind wants to rush through the picture. But then the fine details of the dried grass, the pole, the metal fence slowly draw me in. This causes me to realize how our eyes often flash around, not carefully absorbing the visual world, the way that artists do. It also has to do with how we understand what we see.
I was hoping you were up in the sky tonight, Moon dearest. But alas, poetic justice for me. Why is poetic justic so often depicted as a negative? Aren't there sublime instances of it? I went blog drifting today as I enjoy the synchronicity of finding a particular blog at a certain moment. Will you find me some more flowers? I am melancholy and rare flowers distracts me from myself.
Much of my visual pleasures come from being fortunate enought to have the possibility to view world via the Gaze of the Artist eye and mind and soul
I'm currently working on a project that involves images of suburban tract homes. I am searching around the net and can't find any good conversations on the topic of suburban photography, although I've found interesting images. What are you trying to say with these tract home images? Why should the viewer care? What do you hope the viewer will draw from them? I am interested in hearing what anyone in the photography or art world has to say about this. email@example.com
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