The tide of mold along a ceiling, the relief of what was once a pigeon, a single drop of blood on the subway steps,—I’ve always been fascinated by the trace of life or of force, the mark, what is left, after something happened, the slow—and sometimes quite sudden—inevitability.
* * *
April 2007–November 2011: Zapopan, Jalisco; Long Island, New York; Greenpoint, Brooklyn; Tzintzuntzan, Michoacán; Maine; Huntington Station, New York.
The tide of mold along a ceiling, the relief of what was once a pigeon, a single drop of blood on the subway steps,—I’ve always been fascinated by the trace of life or of force, the mark, what is left, after something happened, the slow—and sometimes quite sudden—inevitability.
* * *
April 2007–November 2011: Zapopan, Jalisco; Long Island, New York; Greenpoint, Brooklyn; Tzintzuntzan, Michoacán; Maine; Huntington Station, New York.