Every photograph is an illustration of Zeno’s Paradox. By seeming to frame time with the release of the shutter, the photograph seems to frame time as infinitely divisible into moments, into halfway points between an infinitude of 2 other points. Whether starting or ending with starting or ending, the infinitude of these points prevents the possibility of starting or ending.
People have noticed something like this about photography pretty much as soon as its invention. The specificity of the moment and subject of a photograph contrasts with its potential infinitude of meaning and authorship. Even more, this aspect of photography provides a snapshot of the paradox of art in a disenchanted, rationalized age. Continue reading “The Paradox of Photography”
About a year after my brain injury, things had improved and stabilized enough for me to consider finding something to do with myself. We had a good, although somewhat out of date, 35mm camera. We had gotten reasonably proficient with it years before, but had been in the closet for longer than we had used it
Over that year, I had learned the path to relative success with tasks was to break them down to their simplest parts and then to stretch their execution out over as much time as possible. Continue reading “The Photography Paradox”
For the first time this season, the beaver pond freezes over. Transparent, fractally tessellated ice coats the water.
The finer approximation of flatness, the greater the surface area we specify, the rarer it becomes.
Sublimated water crystals have the greatest chance maybe. The problem: only two dimensions make flat real, three end it.
Colder. The clarity of peri-freezing ice solidifies translucent, that impossible frictionlessness now gone.
A beaver swims under thickening ice. Head bumping the underside, breathing the air pockets there, the thump thump, thump echoes.