It's interesting to me how the sort of things that I would photograph in San Francisco in 1984 are the very same as those I would photograph in Seattle in 2010. Same longing - same lust. do we ever change our abilities to create?
I wonder about the man with the crutch and the swagger. How does he live? What does he think about? And the boy making noise on his drum. What does he hope for? Is anyone any better than someone else? Sure the sun is shining and people are up - feeling good, high. Sun is breathing life into them - they've got that feeling - but is anyone any better than someone else? And if I draw a square, is it any different than a curve that swings way wide of the batter?
And if a cluster of people cross the street at once do they hear a sound in the middle of the crowd that gives life to the world? And if a beautiful girl turns to the sun one minute and then turns away the next - is she still thinking about her weekend passed?
I wonder about the man with the crutch and the swagger. How does he live? What does he think about? And the boy making noise on his drum. What does he hope for? Is anyone any better than someone else? Sure the sun is shining and people are up - feeling good, high. Sun is breathing life into them - they've got that feeling - but is anyone any better than someone else? And if I draw a square, is it any different than a curve that swings way wide of the batter?
And if a cluster of people cross the street at once do they hear a sound in the middle of the crowd that gives life to the world? And if a beautiful girl turns to the sun one minute and then turns away the next - is she still thinking about her weekend passed?
No comments:
Post a Comment