Inherent Absence of Light
Light is equal to ink. This becomes clear only while observing a negative.
It is characteristic for a photograph to entwine the two: positive and negative, white and black. One has the potential for the other. A positive is formed only after light has travelled through a negative. Thus, no matter how quickly light travels; darkness has always found its way there first.
We have learned that light is electromagnetic radiation visible to the human eye. It consists of particles, photons. Furthermore, darkness comes after the sun has set 18 degrees under the horizon. Still, there is something imponderable to light; a pencil is mine to control.
The one over here implies the existence of another over there.
Movement is understood in terms of physical laws: the way we see things moving, and the way we ourselves move in the grip of gravity. All else is not perceived as movement, but positions.
The ways we are going and the directions we are pulling are many. Most of them tend to throw us around, slide us towards cliffs – collisions or bursts. But there can also be affection so great it makes us draw a straight line throughout our years.
Weight of Experience
I make drawings in certain places or in certain situations. These drawings are attempts to capture moments, to preserve entire experiences through the rhythm of the pencil.
I photograph these drawings. Drawing is a tool of trial, thought and concentration, but all the time my aim has been the photograph. Photographs have the possibility to vary in size and amount, and by photographing my drawings I can charge them with force. To me, this is the most interesting step because it changes the materiality of the drawing; what used to be pencil on a sheet of a notebook is now an illusion of mass.