A dark blue fringe of lace above a soft brown wooden surface, the lattice. City lights, not twinkling, twinkling less because they are closer, not further. Blue space between the lattice and the city. Blurring in and zooming out. Seeing it as though with a Photoshop filter, flattening everything. Space becomes 2D as safety glass shatters, as fluid becomes solid, as liquid becomes ice.
6:45am The light from the sunrise lightens everything but at this moment, rays hit a group of houses on the Annandale hill. Suddenly spectacular light on a lit landscape and what it does to the space in between. I shoot and shoot but can’t capture the space. Then slowly another image starts to dominate the shot. In a triangular patch of light on the grass in the foreground, I see my own silhouette like the outline of a clothes peg. Standing, centred in the triangle. The shape yellow-green, diffuse. And the wood chips at the base of the trees, glowing red-orange at its edges.
A big strong guy on YouTube demonstrates his many musical instruments in a special room of his house. This is my happy place, he says. Music is my happy place. Why does a big strong guy need a happy place. Touch of blue. Yes, happy place – playing music, writing, making artwork, video. Why do you sit for hours playing music. Happy place. Not ecstatic, just not miserable, not crushed. A place where the spirit can soar, the mind can roam, and no one will know. A place to be alone.
The shock of the new is not shocking, it’s the shock of the horribly familiar. Like the shock of white polystyrene boxes being carried along the street as you drive past in a car. Horribly white, stained, tainted, suffocating.
Dark dark darkness supersedes the twilight, dark ideas leap from the shadows. Midnight screening/screaming, Formal Wear/malware. The biggest fear: a meteor shower wiping out our databases.
Next photo, the silhouette of you on the motorbike, coming home, smiling, but backlit in the dark garage. And also the headlight shining. The light from the bike and the backlight washes over the shot like a soft mist.
