18 photographs, film and digital composite, 2011 - 2015.
He is a photograph
A man stands by a pillar. There are flowers in his eyes, like stars. He is dead, or a supplicant, or pliant like a stem. He is overwhelmed with flowers. He becomes profusion, the ground and the pillar are unchanged. The sky extends ad infinitum.
He is living flesh, but he is offering his hands like that of a man brought near death — near one side or the other of the divide, near the line like a mothdance. It is yet unclear.
The frame of the image of the man extends high vertically, and is narrow around him — I think of sacrality and the power that has no agency in the man. The resonance that is him, within him, beyond him, the resonance that is the image, within the image, and beyond the image.
He has dark curly hair, and I imagine he would have dark soft eyes, like a kind man, like a tall horse or an afghan hound. His eyes are closed now, and there are flowers there. The flowers are profuse, a generous stale red, not overly vibrant or lush — they are sweet flowers, organic and solid. They are not pretty.
They are without their stems. They are decapitated flowers. They will cover the man for eternity.