Luan Scrivner  c.2007

"It is impossible to believe that the visual character of the child's work-with its remarkable directness and economy could be the product of a conscious concern with formal values."  (MOMA 1963) It was today when a photograph arrived on my desk, one which i couldn't help but compare to Andreas Gursky's oeuvre of the 90's with an isolation of subject giving forth a sense of formalization.  One which I couldn't help but compare to the childhood works of Jacques Henri Lartigue for this photograph was taken by a three year old.  Associations resulting in a questioning, are we all part of a collective aesthetic, all finding beauty in the similar, all interconnected as a three year old equal to that of one whom has made a life of producing imagery.  All seeing the same however the child's direct observation that which the adult struggles to find.  Today i met the photographs of three year old Luan.   

04.05.2007

If the viewer relates better to the product than that of themselves, so then is it the product which defines and controls our existence?  It is true that we as viewers better relate to that which brings us comfort, Warhol proved that forty years ago, however what is now shocking is that we are faced with an avoidance taking solace in a human interaction based on consumption.  The artist no longer paints a picture instead enslaves their energy to design.  The musician no longer sings a song instead enslaves their energy to finding a better agent.  The photographer enslaved to turning towards a Herculean abyss of human consumption which seemingly brings us all comfort.  Today I met two months worth of syringes which kept me alive.

03.18.2006

'Only look to the future with hope, never look back' is what i was told on a damp Seattle evening.  This after a tale of an abusive brother in law kicking her to the streets to live in a van.  This after hearing a tale of hope as she makes her way towards Ohio in longing optimism of finding a daughter she once knew.  'She'll take me in, I know I'll find her.' This as ten more people walk past in a neglectful oblivion.  Today I met a dog named Bailey.

09.12.2006

Am I staying true to my obligation as a photographer? Am I truly seeing and documenting that which the people are seeing or that which I hope the people to see? Am I failed for holding onto a notion that it is possible to encounter another and have it transform into meaningful interaction? Am I failed as a photographer for attempting to document this box of humanity by documenting its people. The box is what we see. That which occupies the box is what we see. I pose many questions however I know one thing and that is as I entered the box I had to walk past eighty six people before meeting the eyes of another, those of a four year old boy. Today I met a box of limbs.

02.12.2007

The world moving slower, 'you might want to go now' my hand slowly slipping away.  "sir do you need Ativan, it says here last time you had Ativan."  Again surrounded by a familiarity of far off nurses, the never ending beeping of i.v. poles, the calming sound of air moving into my room.  Looking down a Pic line in my left arm an i.v. in my right and then it occurred, 'fuck i'm in the hospital again'.  Again surrounded by white walls, again surrounded by an endless supply of people pouring in and out, again dreading the simplest task of getting out of bed to urinate.  Visitors came, doctors came, nurses came, blood people came, food people came, my love came, my parents came, all to surround me, yet I was alone.  Again confronted with nothing more than my own mortality.  Time slowing to the point of existence while my camera watched from the foot of my bed.  Today I met myself.