Architect: Renzo Piano: California Academy of Sciences: San Francisco
The Little Histories: Wherever I need to be taken: A word appears: The world expands: The dreams appear: The dance begins.
The Starfish commanded the bending gleaming Chevron Barracuda to flit through the easterly and westerly currents: As one and one atop of the other: My dreams seem fleeting before my camera’s realities. I listen to the histories that pose before my eyes. A unicorn’s silhouette braces atop the moon slowly tilted: My camera reacts aghast: Reality again appears: Words gather as photographs: They gather in frames: They sit stoically waiting for the assembly- -as in Greece’s Ancient Agora. Time and space appear evolving as does the axis appendaged to the earth: A six-foot three or four inch chimpanzee I might be, touches the world with curiosities:
A choir of Indonesian Gibbons stands near: A soloist among them stands ahead: A magical native creature holds my hand: He sings sweet and pleadingly soulful- -harmoniously amidst the assembly: The jungles’ hold their breaths: My dreams imagined: We as one embrace not what is there but what was: Today’s yesterdays are what I might share in my tomorrows:
The artist Sophie Calle discovered the history of one person: For one day and days following- -A single person was followed into a Parisian oxbow: An entire metropolitan metropolis oblivious to the deception: Calle’s story expanded: The stranger’s life became larger than we expected: It is the nature of discoveries that become our universe within galaxies not yet seen:
Architect: Philip Johnson: The Trylons at the Chrysler Center: New York City
The Little Histories are what becomes our present: Each and every day it is the little histories that become my photographs:
My criteria for capturing architecture is to offer a voice to my immeasurable though measured adventures: There is the position that belongs to history, and then within that position the creation that adheres to the light and darkness that are traced behind my eyes from city to city:
The first building I knowingly photographed in Los Angeles was- - and vanished: The first building I knowingly photographed in New York was- - and vanished: The first building I photographed in Barcelona was- - now reborn: The first building I photographed in Moscow was- - and remains the same: The first building I photographed in Mexico City was- - and remains the same:
In my entire dreamscape I feel I have stood with song in mind, Gibbon near, managed the contrasting emotions between fragility and staidness- - the visual experience between reality and dream- -Celluloid and…
The Dolmabahçe Clock Tower: Istanbul, Turkey
I am aware of the nature of euphoria while calculating the many stages of captures: I am enlightened by the buildings touched and left remaining from what has been my architectural battlefield: The moments standing: The moments my eyes missed: It could be one hundred pictures from a single structure or ten-thousand a city may have vaulted for another time- -The vanishing imagery is like a cancer- -it kills: I pause to remember why I dream:
I inhabit a tiny corner of my earth: I pause often to breathe the octaves in my mind- - pause once more- -await the motivation and see the architectural anew:
The present and the past pose as semi-identical twins in front of my camera: My Gibbon sings ahead: I join as a tiny spider resined in one-hundreds million years Lebanese Amber shutters nervously- -: Might the spider share a history: Might my mind imagine: How far back in time do I allow my mind to dream: Breathlessly our song is heard: A little history matters: Numbers do not matter: My New York Flatiron has posed on a corner since 1902: Little Histories little stories may be part of many: I allow myself to be transported in time; to fantasize about the time before mine: Then- - I begin again.
The 1902 Flatiron Building: New York City: At Twilight