Above all else I’m insincere and superficial- even in this carnage. But not so much I can’t be frustrated. I can’t stop taking restive shots of clear cuts or chunks of slash char even when I’m tired and cramped and annoyed at the thought that many might assume I disapprove of this industry, which means at some point I will have to talk about how I don’t. As if to demonstrate this which really needs no further expression, two times I flung off my clothes. Once I was hot from climbing this 12% grade and going from seeing nothing all day to seeing my deflated clothes actually thought this could be a rare surprising picture for me- or at least some comic relief. The second time was even more anticlimactic; I realized I’d screwed up and double exposed it with (yet) another pole-stand shot and had to strip again to take another. Turns out I actually screwed up on a differentshot altogether. So now I have a phantom diptych, one half here and the other undeveloped, like one of those halved-heart lockets popular in schoolday crushes. Maybe it’s more of a countdown than a diptych, pure antigamut, a subtractive essay on remote abandon.. Or maybe just unrequited navel-gazing. I don’t consider it staged, if only because I was so irritated that I actually had to reproduce a spontaneous picture that I replicated the flinging of clothes with passable fervor, as in the initial shot. Climbing for 5 hours with 40lbs of gear, not thinking clearly. If the day gets any deeper or more forgiving as it progresses up or down the grade, it’s not clearly expressed in the scenery or the antics within it.
Maybe my eyes are just too close together to see any of it. Which has inspired many of my diptychs of late. But this triptych is more of a expansion on that theme, a preemptive triclops perspective. Like a stereograph, plus one lazy eye.