What looks and feels like a time machine, imposes its beige structure demanding us to press its switches and turn its wheels. Instantly thrown into a scene of distorted perspective, feet perched bottom left. A man leans right to observe the lady lain there topples, unaware and carefree. An imposing shadow cuts in front of the man's stare. The towel to the right, inverting the lady, to impose a range of mediums of figures, all in one photograph.
Thrown into the uncomfortable but unforgiving, a man pumps his chest out to the camera, head held almost like a pirate may. The pecks misplaced amongst the full stomach.
They are incredibly uncomfortable photographs, but fascinate us. Make us wonder of the position and conversation of the photographer. Why they were there, how the person felt as the flash washed over them in a casual reflex. Everything stone wall in the picture, holding significant importance, like a slap to the face suggesting they look at us now. It is their turn to be looked at.
The moments may feel disconnected, yet their craft brings them back to continuity as the film grain imbeds in the surface of the photograph, picking up dust and dirt each view.
A machine, built by us takes on human qualities as it shines its shoes, combs its hair, shaves its beard for us to look at it with wonder. Its piercing pale yellow and logical, black framed, components create visual butterflies floating in and around our vision. This machine wants to be adored, just like the man puffing his chest. These people exist, these objects have importance.
When left thinking of how these pictures came about, we cannot avoid the notion that these positions require a sharp eye and perfect diction - to scout the best saying, to grasp the view of the subject, person or object. An incredible attention to detail for the moments that occur but never in the same way as the last. They are moments prayed upon, much more than lucky incidents with the camera and people, objects and places.