Text by Edith Marie Pasquier 

Muted and held back, a distance is built and dismantled in the visual plane of the image. The photograph becomes a site where language is communicated or expressed. Everything is made in the photograph, and the pose of the living figure, whose studied gestures enters the event of the image, adds further to the artifice of the picture. The photograph, a

strastosphere of layers; of physical work, of fabrication, of assembly, of time that has passed, of thoughts unpacked. The hands of the photographer is not used for the chemical procsses of printing, but the presence of the hands is in the assembly; in the making, in the construction of the apparatus of view, and tied to the intricate scaffolding of the photographic medium. 

The window is a focal point, an aperture. The tight framing of each photograph heralds an explicit reference to the window frame, partially obscured or covered by an indistinct layer - a curtain, a blind, a haze - so that the glass is no longer transparent. The window looks to the tradition of photographic histories, to the perspectival frame, an outline, a containment, reinforced somehow, because it is ever present. The window is a motif, in the ubiquity of many images, a turn: how can you not look towards a window? The pull is in the desire to look through, to see what is on the other side. When this looking is denied, the impulse is to look some more. 


It is not all about looking. A window can be opened, air can be let in, a suggestion of a duality, of an inside and an outside. By letting the air in, by allowing the opening, something is disturbed, maybe the visability of the viewer or the subject, within the photographic frame. The windows are closed in these pictures. A glass pane allows for a heightened visibilty and yet the photographs deny this. Though the outside is suggested and sometimes, even presented in the frame of a picture - as a building, as a landscape - it is the interior that takes precendence. Even, as the picture presents the illusion of an apartment being pulled by a figure - the dressing of the windows, the obstruction of plants on the window pane, directs the gaze so that the eye is lead towards the interior of the image. Yet the window in the interior photographs needs the haze to present the condition of depth within the image, as if too much light, could dissolve the image, and dissolve the figure. 

The figure, singular, attends a strident place, it punctuates the image in its aloneness. Alone at the table, in an artificial apartment. It suggest a right to be lonely, a right to sit outside the conventions. The scaffolding of this singular person’s image is not another’s concern. Alone in the figures quietness, a fluent visiblity, constructed, considered and dampened willfully. The landscape in the image of the pulled house, emphasises another layer, of the ability to pull the scaffold in a direction of one’s choice, erasing the monochromatic winter scene to the recesses of the image. 


Always an inside and outside. The voice of the figure is embedded into the very construction of the frame, of the apartment, of the internal walls. The figure suspended in that moment of before speech, of waiting to put up the hand. But slowly the hand is brought down, distracted by the turn of the window. Comfortable in the restless hand of the photographer, who returns to the scaffold, to construct a frame, a window, a view.