I have an a quasi-obsession with construction sites, all things in multiplicity, industrial sties of existence and the movements in space of bodies that leave blurs on the still frame. These photos do not promise excellence, but they do represent the moment of my experience and thought process that would incite me to photograph repeatedly bricks, tires and metal scraps as well as the many people whom I have encountered in my life. These images are fragments of temporality and it is with this spirit that I include even the throw away images which capture the imperfection of the moment that can only be rendered through its sometimes overcast, shaky or blurred quality.

In presenting these images I aim to express the moment of time that I hope to capture–the event, the place, the people.  But I am all too conscious in reviewing these photos at a later date that I have simply attempted to fix temporality and that there is no correct truth to the images I “captured”, or rather those which I made.   French film critic André Bazin wrote: “Photography does not create eternity, as art does; it embalms time, rescuing it simply from its proper corruption.”   Certainly this statement speaks to the practice and viewership of photography in the twentieth century; however, I do wonder if our notion of temporality today has not made such statements obsolete.  The desire  to watch dogs call 911 seems to have captured–at least momentarily–the collective interest of the masses and it would seem that the written word and the contemplated fixed image of photography or any of the arts is elided by the need for a new video of a different housepet undertaking an even more unfathomable act.  We have stretched the notion of the unimaginable to the absurd and in the process our notion of temporality has taken on the qualities of a culture suffering from Attention Deficit Disorder.

So here are my imperfect works of temporality fixed, each photograph revealing its own truth and yet rendering the itself as medium invisible.  The nature of photography is unique–there is no language to decipher it and it offers for the viewer something that which it is not.  As Roland Barthes famously wrote: “A photograph is always invisible, it is not it that we see,”