THE IMAGE DOES A BACKBEND
The object moves, i move, the image does a backbend. Take the photo, move my body, adjust my shadow, retake photo.
Choreograph a habit of caught eyes, copy the habit and squint against the glare, retake photo. Images collect in a porous heap, the tableau slips then holds steady.
A huge grey-scale photo of a glacier sits against the facade of a high-rise penthouse. The building thinks it’s a mountain, holds a muscle-memory. Take a photo as the train moves past, imagine scaling the stairs to the top.
Six dead wasps appear mysteriously on my windowsill, put them in a snap-lock-bag and take them with me when i move one postcode north. Choreography for timekeeping, a mass montage, reorder, retake.
My body language absorbs the landscape, crane my neck, the geography of images accumulates in my pocket. Amass hijacked memories; visual hoard collects. A reflex of habit, the picture sidesteps, then stretches, repeats.