I have been going to take photos for over two years at a construction site near where I live - it just so happens to be at the end of my street and across the main road out of town which is very convenient. The actual photographs have been largely incidental in a way - largely analagous to the concept of change, particularly personal change, and offering a bit of a dialectic thing of masculine/feminine, plus there are some uniquely personal references, too. They are not a documentary project in any conventional sense.
But having continued to return there again and again, through every season, and at all times of day -from hard mid-day sun to moonlit nights in winter - I've incidentally 'acquired' a record of another kind of transition, one that carries over beyond individual frames, of the place.
Yesterday I went back there several times to take rows of photos made every 5 paces/7 paces/8 paces/10 paces and 12 paces apart, along a long length of fencing that runs down …
There's a little side road I cycle along when leaving work, a short cul-de-sac that leads out onto the High Street. On one side are the buildings where I work and on the other are the anonymous back walls of one and two-story business premises. One of them has a powerful air conditioning (or refrigeration) unit always blowing out onto the street, and not just in summer but in the dead of winter, too. While it's pretty noisy I pass it every day but don't normally notice it, I just fly by on my bike. In fact it was a few years before I figured out what that commercial building with the air-con was, and then remembered that I had been inside it once, a long time ago, when I had touched for a few moments the chilled skin of a face.
Ravenreed: Poofter. This is the result of feminism. They try to turn all males into female.
Ravenreed (again): What's all this "gender Identity". You're either male or female and
should be content with your body, not messing around trying to be the
Howard Halifax: There's something very wrong with people lol
William: what a weirdo
Sithapprentice: Spotty little #$%$
Tam Silverado: If he wants to be a freak or whatever the hell on earth it is, why the
army. To cause a drama, they do love a melodrama #$%$ n #$%$ hags.
Barry: Why would a man who wants to be a woman join the army?
Iain: He will be wanting to have babies next...........
Bahamabob87: cut his #$%$ off with a rusty knife and stuff the hormon treatment, give
him a dress and put him in a cell with three big black boys
Stephen: EFIN FREAK
Someone at work keeps banging on about Tired Pony and having just watched this video I'm halfway to becoming a fan, too. I love the partial 'mime to playback' and the convincingly naturalistic manner of the performance.
I don't really know how an abstract artist such as Nicolas de Stael (1914-55) would have 'seen' the subject at the point of rendering it through paint onto canvas (see example attached). The immediate view - or views, in the presence of things that can obviously be assessed from a multitude of angles - would have provided a three dimensional surface that through approach and technique could be worked into an impasto painterly depiction. The actual line, light, colouration being a springboard for his vision, highly personal while in some ways within a discourse of the period.
When I was taking self-portrait photos recently I was lying on a mattress pictured from above. I knew that the sheet beneath me was in a sense referencing a canvas and therefore my body lying upon it, through all the decisions and accidents encapsulated into a single
moment - were a similar repository of shapes, lines and palette. It was more than a sensation of teetering on what may have been de…