Wednesday, May 15, 2019
I'm probably the only one who likes these weirdly framed pictures. But I do. They speak to the randomness of vision and of life.
Ha! That's the sort of nonsense you hear about photographic art. There is always "The Artist's Statement" where the photographer needs to tell what he or she is trying to do.
Still. . . the randomness of things.
I'll grow tired of black and white in a post or two, I'm pretty sure.
Random thoughts. That's all I can muster, all that I have. I'm as mundane as a Paul Simon lyric, like the sound of a train in the distance. A good day is a day without pain. A bad day is when I lie in bed and think about what might have been.
Posted by cafe selavy at 2:00 PM