Fading Reflection | Mark Lindsay
I often find myself out on a limb—way off on a tangent. It's a borderline condition, not enough OCD for medication, but I do obsess a bit much on my art projects. Then—poof—they burn out like a pop of flash powder. So is it with my window-reflections series.
I have no idea from where these things come. Such is the mercurial nature of creativity. I suppose my fascination with shop-window reflections originates from an early and consistent love of the Eugene Atget. His Parisian windows are among the most haunting images I've ever known. He was reportedly a shy man who preferred to photograph a deserted Paris in the early hours of the day. His loneliness shows in most every image and proves to me that what we choose to photograph is really, and ultimately, ourselves.
And so it is that today I end my recent adventures down the rabbit hole of reflective images. Readers of this blog have suffered enough. Tomorrow it's back to the rock-solid world. The earth shall be firm under my feet. Everything will be clear and understandable. Life will make sense. The camera shall reveal all. Goodbye reflections.
Poof.
A good photograph is like a good hound dog, dumb, but eloquent. – Eugene Atget