the often left uncreated afterthought series,
Archival Prints of Scanned Fuji (Instant Film) Negatives, created from Dry-Plate Tintypes made with Digital Negatives, 2014, 23" x 27.5"
the often left uncreated afterthought
Those we remember become shadows, mists of meaning floating through our thoughts and casting shape and shadow on what we know and recognize.
Forever gone from the physical, corporeal world of touch and sight, placed in our minds, thought, remembrance, left to be seen through reflections of light, recordings of impressions, second hand etchings of energy, life, light, snuffed out and cast to sea.
Ashes to ashes and dust-to-dust; what remains unseen creates the sea, the void of understanding, a network of illegible threads.
The evaporating light, the essence of energies carried by current and thought, musings. Diluted as the recipe of the forgotten combines seconds of days and layers of illusion casting those that walk by shadow to the eerie and forgotten realms.
Figments, shapes, illusion and rumination, the smoke and mirrors of the reflection’s reflection. Of time, negative and positive, known and unknown, that which is given no meaning, cast to the margins, void of relevance, worth, dedication, left with the indignation of ill-use, no use, un-used existence.
Spectral, unsettling, the forms behind the veil reveal little of what was and is. Caught between a permanence of what could be, an existence of should be, dripping, flowing, falling through space and time, woven into the blankness, abstract endings of substance, a space of its own reality.
Lost to the truth, or the truth that is known to be. The reality that is gripped upon, spun upon, embraced and cast off, to and from.
The spindles of line and word, story and memory bring into existence the threads of connotation that are twisted, twined, contorted and mangled into the tangle of self-created myth and mirror, woven with the common ideas, webs of intricacy and confinement.
What is lost in the ease of form and function can be found in the compulsion of thought and fantasy.
Mingled smoke, essence of meditation and denotation combine and flow. Waves of known, an old companion permeating the air, chemical tactility seeks to give reaction, corroding the fable, giving way to the unintended, an aleatory of deliberation unheeding of convention, the often left uncreated after thought.
Shucking the film of report, losing the mantle of chronicle, undone are the narratives of self and time, tidings of shadow left to tell the tale.
P. Drummond
Those we remember become shadows, mists of meaning floating through our thoughts and casting shape and shadow on what we know and recognize.
Forever gone from the physical, corporeal world of touch and sight, placed in our minds, thought, remembrance, left to be seen through reflections of light, recordings of impressions, second hand etchings of energy, life, light, snuffed out and cast to sea.
Ashes to ashes and dust-to-dust; what remains unseen creates the sea, the void of understanding, a network of illegible threads.
The evaporating light, the essence of energies carried by current and thought, musings. Diluted as the recipe of the forgotten combines seconds of days and layers of illusion casting those that walk by shadow to the eerie and forgotten realms.
Figments, shapes, illusion and rumination, the smoke and mirrors of the reflection’s reflection. Of time, negative and positive, known and unknown, that which is given no meaning, cast to the margins, void of relevance, worth, dedication, left with the indignation of ill-use, no use, un-used existence.
Spectral, unsettling, the forms behind the veil reveal little of what was and is. Caught between a permanence of what could be, an existence of should be, dripping, flowing, falling through space and time, woven into the blankness, abstract endings of substance, a space of its own reality.
Lost to the truth, or the truth that is known to be. The reality that is gripped upon, spun upon, embraced and cast off, to and from.
The spindles of line and word, story and memory bring into existence the threads of connotation that are twisted, twined, contorted and mangled into the tangle of self-created myth and mirror, woven with the common ideas, webs of intricacy and confinement.
What is lost in the ease of form and function can be found in the compulsion of thought and fantasy.
Mingled smoke, essence of meditation and denotation combine and flow. Waves of known, an old companion permeating the air, chemical tactility seeks to give reaction, corroding the fable, giving way to the unintended, an aleatory of deliberation unheeding of convention, the often left uncreated after thought.
Shucking the film of report, losing the mantle of chronicle, undone are the narratives of self and time, tidings of shadow left to tell the tale.
P. Drummond