August 17th, Angelino Heights by Carla Floccari
August 17th, Angelino Heights
You work where my gaze comes to rest. On the photosensitive surface that gathers the grey of a cow and the grey of a tree. On the concrete surfaces that, through your gesture, welcome the engraving of another’s hand. On the surface of a negative also scratched by my desire to make something appear. Because these are sensitive and intimate surfaces, I ask to inhabit your works.
From what resists the momentum of my eye, your images are born.
In the Angelino Heights apartment, the works displace by deferring. There, I expand within the irregularities of the concrete and the softness of dawn. I stand within this dialogue. Something speaks to me of beauty.
You do not wrench photography away from time. Time is neither lived nor possible, since before me it is a great action of light. The image resists me. This, too, I believe, is what large-format photography demands of me.
Your works speak to me of the way I look at them. The signs I recognize—the shape of hair, the color of sneakers—I see them observing what your concrete brings into presence alongside the Italian engravings that first taught me detail and movement. I encounter the world filled with the deep faith required to stand in a place that has become your images.
Carla Floccari, author