The Commission Gedeon Commission

Thursday, June 30, 2011

Construction Time Again

An eighties moment, a Dépêche Mode song... the state of things on the provincial highways. There is an intersection between the time people are on the roads and the time that the roads are being repaired. This cannot be avoided but stands as a veritable perfect metaphor for the infamous double bind. Damned if you do, fucked if you don't. It is not entirely unpleasant, it is not necessary to move at the speed of light. If one let's the light pass, it will show you things, most interesting and wondrous things.

Photography is movement at the speed of light, or as close as we can get at the with present technology. It will freeze an instant, a moment, a thought or a musing in a still, forever to be examined, space where time has been arrested for vagrancy. But at the same time, as Penny Cousineau so astutely observed, it is death. It kills time for the benefit of art and seeing. It creates a boundary between mortality and insignificance.

Insignificance.

Sounds like such a big word.

And yet it means nothing.

- Posted from GEDEON XXIII

Location:Fitzgeralds Rd,Spaniard's Bay,Canada

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Baie des Robert

Today we drove across the island, the drive seemed longer than usual. Not that many construction sites, not too much traffic but it just seemed to take forever. But we are in Bay Roberts now.

A quick idea, on the way back from BR photograph the back of every transport truck I get stuck behind for more than 1 minute. The project will be called: "647 km, every truck I got stuck behind".

At first thought, I would like to photographs tone square, perhaps black and white. I will have to decide whether I shoot with the point and shoot or the DSLR. I am thinking that shooting while driving could be better done with the point and shoot.

- Posted from GEDEON XXIII

Location:Central St,Bay Roberts,Canada

To the east old man

On our way to Bay Roberts, with the obligatory stops on the way. There is something with traveling more slowly. In the past couple of years I have been moving around by airplane quite often, more than ever in my life actually.

There is a pleasure in air travel, the sensation of lifting off the ground always brings a smile to my face. Once in the air though, and this is odd, it seems like space collapses around me; suddenly the bubble of personal space is threatened.

I often think about a passage in Alessandro Baricco's "Cette histoire là", describing the landscape from a moving train at the beginning of the century. The notion of moving as fast as the landscape is is fascinating. As if there is a maximum speed that the land can allow us to occupy for any length of time. The streaks of green, blue, white, brown, grey, beige have a value of speed.