On a scanning binge. Up all hours redissecting images that got left behind. It's quite fascinating to witness the decisions made (perhaps snap.. perhaps well thought out) on old contact sheets. Why something is striking at one moment, and lost its lustre the next.. or the other way around. Doesn't do a thing for you at one glance, and upon the 5th glance (perhaps years later) it leaps up into your heart. I'm one of those photographers who has some little poetic or emotional story that makes the image leap for me. A bit hyper-emotional at times, I do believe I was deemed a "sensitive child". The image below holds one of those stories. It's not that I am in love with how monochromatic his belly of constellations is against those pale sheets, or that there is a certain boyish charm to it. It's that I know his belly will never look this way again. In fact it will now have a arching star scraping below a rib and stretching across said constellations, as a reminder of how fragile we all are. This image was made in 2005, 3 years before an urgent trip to replace a failing liver. It is therefore like a lock of hair, saved for an infant to see later in life, as proof at how much we have grown.
Constellations, Brooklyn, NY. 2005
"You'll wait a long, long time for anything much
To happen in heaven beyond the floats of cloud
And the Northern Lights that run like tingling nerves.
The sun and moon get crossed, but they never touch,
Nor strike out fire from each other nor crash out loud.
The planets seem to interfere in their curves
But nothing ever happens, no harm is done.
We may as well go patiently on with our life,
And look elsewhere than to stars and moon and sun
For the shocks and changes we need to keep us sane.
It is true the longest drouth will end in rain,
The longest peace in China will end in strife.
Still it wouldn't reward the watcher to stay awake
In hopes of seeing the calm of heaven break
On his particular time and personal sight.
That calm seems certainly safe to last to-night."
- Robert Frost -