1
by markwiley

Comment:
You said in a follow-up post that your essay was "woefully short on thoughts". But you were wrong because it certainly isn't.

If I were the editor of a photo magazine and this came across my desk my immediate thought would have been "Comfortably Numb", and I'd have given that title and these pictures to my best scribe and said to give me 500 words on that theme to do justice to these pictures, and keep your sentences short (not like this one).

I'd have said to the writer, "You are one of hundreds, of thousands, serving your daily sentence on mass commuter transit, and yet you are alone. You are wrapped in an invisible cloak, and insulated from emotion, from expression, from any apparent animating influence at all. You are insulated even from yourself." It's a very sci-fi concept, the suppression, the spiritual abdication, of any visible sense of self as a means of coping with distopia.

Some words already written on the subject by Pink Floyd:
"There is no pain, you are receding
A distant ship smoke on the horizon
You are only coming through in waves
Your lips move but I can't hear what you're saying
...
This is not how I am
I have become comfortably numb"

So, enough of that stuff: the essay is coherent and consistent and anything but woefully short on thoughts.

But what of the photographs? They are perfect technically and look like film photography, when different things mattered. By that I mean they are technically accomplished without shouting about it, which is the opposite of much contemporary digital photography. In your pictures the "Wow" is whispered, and all the better and more profound for that restraint.

And there's not a clunker among them either; not one that would know the cruel cut of my editor's red wax pencil. I tried, went three times through: could not make a single deletion. Every single image contains its own essay. To continue the musical allusion, it's like a great album where every track is good both alone and as an essential brick in the wall, too. It's astounding consistency; either you had thousands to choose from, or you're bloody supernatural.

Mark, I loved the pictures, loved the essay, and loved the time as a fantasy editor that you gave me.

Thank you.


Message edited by author 2015-03-04 06:23:52.

Importance of the First Impression
by posthumous

Comment:
It's not what I expected. Or, more accurately, it is what I expected, which was something unexpected.

For me the greatest pleasure of poetry is in the prospecting; plucking out the little sparkles of precious stones studded through the vein of the thing. I'm not a scholar of the structure of poetry, nor of the conventions of verse and their corresponding unconventions. But I do love couplets and phrases and allusions that make me feel that I've felt this feeling before, when I know I have not.

Exquisite examples here: crows like "little geishas in black kimonos"; Manet "paints his own light on the flowers"; and even "In spite of the white hat worn by the New Rome". These are not the only reasons I (infrequently) read poetry, but they are the reasons that leave indelible marks on me. I feel uncomfortable that I'm often indifferent to the bigger picture. I like bites of it, but seldom can I manage a meal. I think I get distracted by the resonance of those scattered snapshots, and you know how I feel about snapshots: they may be modest but they mean the most and they last forever.

So I won't attempt to judge nor even measure the piece as a whole. It made sense; it was interesting and illuminating. I was informed and entertained by it. The pictures were crafted very effectively with the words. But I'm taking the gemstones home for my treasure box. I'm a collector, you see, so I can't help it.

Thank you.

ETA: I think the title of the piece is surpassing wise. The conjunction of Manet, and the mirror device, with the emergence of photography is a very heady brew. A further thank you.

Message edited by author 2015-03-03 07:36:28.

Under an Indifferent Sun
by insteps

Comment:
It's interesting that you should mention Trent Parke (who of course is a Magnum photographer; so curiouser and curiouser) because the first reaction I had to this essay was to be reminded of Trent Parke's early stuff in the streets of Sydney, where the light is, as he says, particularly dramatic at the right time of day (anything before the pubs open is about right, though when I lived there there were 'early openers' that welcomed the desperate drinker at 7:30am).

The Trent Parke early work I refer to is right here. Click on 'Dream/Life' after the link opens.

Your last essay was about the people of Taiwan; this one is about the light of Taiwan. It's a very nice change of POV for we who love your stuff.

As well as the light, I also enjoyed the forms, especially clear in the first half of the essay, but present in all of them. The light has a transformative effect on the forms, creating sculptures out of prosaic structures, and heavenly portals out of gaps or openings in the overhead awnings.

It's another loving essay by a photographer who's very far from indifferent, and I'm happy to 'be there' with you.

Interesting to see a swastika in the last image; in this context I suppose it would be a Buddhist mark?

A happy half hour I spent here. Thank you.

WhatHappens
by ubique

Comment:

Originally posted by insteps: Paul, I̢۪m interested in what tools you used to create this piece?

Thanks Henry. Just iPhone but I did cheat a bit and use Hipstamatic app because you can do multiple exposures so easily; actually you can do multiple-multiple exposures, as many as you like. And with a bit more trickery you can combine that with slow shutter speeds. Didn't do any post processing at all except to remove borders imposed by some Hipstamatic settings.

Importance of the First Impression
by posthumous

Comment:
Holy cow! stop
More to follow stop

1
by markwiley

Comment:
Just as I had forecast in a recent forum comment to you, you have failed to disappoint. This is wonderful photography, technically and beyond, and I will be back to comment in more detail. For now, Mark, thank you for joining the DPC essayists, and I'm not one bit surprised that your first offering is so damned classy!

1
by 2mccs

Comment:
You're a timid street photographer, or perhaps you just respect people's personal space and identity. I'm known for sticking people up with a camera in the street, but I think your lighter touch is better and more resonant than my primitive muggings. You say these are your first real attempts at street, and that means you've stepped straight past a lot of the traditional street motifs (cliches, really) and gone right to street photography of more depth and texture than most of us street hacks can manage.

I've commented separately on No 2, which I think is uncommonly beautiful and sophisticated. The others are delights as well, especially 4, 7 & 8.

But this is about the whole, the essay. It's sparing, but clear and confident. The language is simple, the story is enchanting. Thank you.

P.S. Regarding the filter, it's just a tool like any other. Some people (me among them sometimes) use filters as a drunk uses a lamp post; for support rather than illumination. That's not the case here, because the real filter in this collection of photographs is actually you, and that appears to be one-of-a-kind.

2
by 2mccs

Comment:
Before I assemble some comments on the essay as a whole, I must react to this picture.

It's really very beautiful. It's one of those sneaky abstracts that are not abstract at all. The purely graphic character of it, like Rothko feeling blue, is a first impression level of delight in addition to the subsequent realisation that it's actually a representational, literal work.

It's a visual fuge, by which I mean the image easily becomes convincingly audible as a musical piece like this.

The musical theme is also graphically echoed in the fact that it actually looks like a musical stave, with a lonely, melancholy high note at upper left. It's obviously in a minor key.

It's a lovely, witty, satisfying photograph. I very, very rarely see a photo and think, "I'd like looking at that every day on my wall, and in extravagant size too", but this photograph is an exception to that rule. Thank you.

sentinel
by whiteroom

Comment:
Makes me feel like a piece of meat.

Chasing Pavements
by Melethia

Comment:

Originally posted by mariuca: ... in spite of its quite pedestrian title ...

I so hope that that was an intentional pun. It would be a wickedness worthy of Wilde if it were.