“Each picture is the sealed past. A second after you press the shutter, the recorded image becomes history: it was… and it will never happen again,” ~ IGOR GROMOV

I’ve said this before. No two photographs are exactly alike, no matter how quickly you snap the shutter, one, two, three, four… Something will have changed. The light is just that much different. The subject imperceptibly moves in some way. A breeze turns a leaf over. A drop of moisture shifts form, even just a little, on a window pane. There are a million different variables, so each photo is one of a kind. No two alike. Maybe that’s why I’m always drawn to the art of photography more than the art of cinema. I can’t really say for sure.

It does amuse me that my taste in photography and photographers so closely parallels my taste in music. I’m drawn in by shadow. Dissonance pulls me closer. All more so than anything conventionally beautiful, which often bores me to tears. The beautiful often seems without a story. There is nothing more to say about pretty things. They exist in two dimensions and become little more than a vehicle for platonic chatter. They are… dishonest? Perhaps not always, but there is a lack of depth that irks me. A tree can be beautiful. A dead tree can be a mystery and an adventure.