It’s been a while since I posted any of my own photographs here — photos without headstones, that is. But today I installed Adobe Lightroom on the ‘ole PC, imported all of the old photos that I haven’t looked at in a while, and came across these composite photos from 2003.
I was going through a phase of making montages, inspired by a small series that Lisa made when we went to Sequoia National Park the year before. (I swear I didn’t know at the time that James Balog and David Hockney were doing this, too.) In early 2003, we still lived closer to Boston; and the old, rusty Central Artery was coming down as the Big Dig moved the highway underground. So I decided to spend an afternoon focusing on the old and new. (This was also the outing where I got detained by The Man.)
At the time, I was exploring the concept that photographs mediate experience in a completely artificial way, that they frame the world and construct experience, and that they’re essentially untrue. So I was purposefully not making my edges match or worrying too much about color constancy when I stitched them back together. Pointing out the unnaturalness of photographs was my goal. Moreover, the Artery always struck me as ugly, and I always felt disoriented when I was on or near it; I was trying to get that feeling across, too. Maybe it works, maybe it’s too “unpicturesque” or self-conscious — I’ll let you decide.