Good news, it infuses this issue with a sense of joy, and with an aspect of carefree childhood seized in flight. There is a feeling of solemnity, but a tender solemnity. An innocence that confronts the world, its difficulties and the trials of study, but it is amusing, happy, and touching.
When they came to tell us that farming without farmers could exist we smiled. But now we have uninhabited expanses of land, mechanization, greenhouse plants untouched by human hand.
Since we are living, to a large part, in a socially constructed world – think of the legal system or of bureaucracy, for instance –, social reports can be pretty much about anything and everything that explores conditions and trends in a community.
Big changes are happening in photography today, and we cannot blame digital photography for all of these upheavals. The close connection between photography and reality has not been called into question, but what has been cut up, torn up or wrung out is the ambiguous relationship between photography and truth. And the development of digital […]
I recently made a train journey in France. Leaving from Paris but, and this is what I asked the ticket seller at the station…
A living environment is a defined terrain where actual and imaginative perceptions are mutually experienced. The current flow of global information intensifies the simultaneous sense of personal space, and images serve as its geographic and emotional expansions.
Gray and self assured and solid it moves forward / on its damp and endless journey while yesterday’s ambulances go back and forth / back and forth in my brain…
Ah, these are the leaders /These are the leaders – / Madmen in suits. / Believing in numbers, percentages and sanity / Drawing bar-charts to rationalize tanks and air strikes…
I felt like walking with you in the woods / no daffodils but many trees / not really black, or green – no fairy-tale – / but sweet air and warm-licking sun / healing all there is…
Of all the things in the ad what attracted me / Was the beauty of Sarah / And I stood there, or sat, today, Friday morning, / A winter sun warms me up in my purple clothes…
The buoys of memory have faint bells, noticed in the night. / I have left these chiming seamarks for the time of my return…
My youngest daughter called from the army, / just returned from an ambush in the desert, this time / they intercepted two men who tried to smuggle Hashish from Egypt…
Facing one another / we turn our backs to the world’s calamities. / Behind our closed eyes and curtains / both heat and war / erupted at once…
I can’t believe it’s / a new year, again / it has crept up on me, softly, surreptitiously, / though the signs, of course, were written on the wall…
