After Todd Hido’s window photos




That window here is like

Todd Hido’s always subject matter. Its light

is company. Light brings space to be peopled;

they are dotted on the park, brightness condense,

sun’s last, and strongest felt, and we are throwing

the giant foam plane – me, brother, sister, sister’s

partner, dad, a dog we’re watching. Todd Hido’s windows

show the his-before. I become my before, I throw the

foam plane, I decide to live there momentarily. 
The curtain in the window is smoothed but is

so distinctly hanging – presence acknowledged by faux-

absence. Windows are encodable mysteries.

I revisit places with the brighter surfaces via

Hido-contextualised frames, his jewel-ish quads

on dark rooms. 
Their frost stems, their wet tones, the feelness in their air

is a triviality.

I think I know something of the apartment back there with their light on.

Kindred memory, the window some past intermediary.