Ah yes, to be at the edge, edge of reality and fantasy, truth and lie, art and documentary. I don't know where I am going, maybe it's backwards, maybe I am actually standing still and everyone else is moving on. I do know that where I was going was becoming narrow, a kind cul-de-sac, dead end. Being at the end is a bad feeling, an anti-climax of all that effort. Why does it always have to be real? Expression is freedom of will, of choice. Form needs to follow content, but maybe form itself can BE the content, I don't know. I stood in front of the work of Xuan Min Jin, and I was awe struck, so much of it was not real...even street scenes made of composites, and I realised, it doesn't have to be real, and it doesn't have to be photography, it just has to feel good. Don't all get me wrong, I love the streets, that will never go away, but once in a while, I can stop, I can look back in to the future, not turn my back on it....style...my style...my choice...I choose at the edge. K
This is the opening image of a gallery dedicated to finding the way out.