Thursday, February 03, 2011

NEW! Laura Larson & Brian Teare

Haze, 2003

There is neither God nor nature in photography. Like faith
a discrete series of disappearances; like God the abrading of
arrested motion—landscape is active absence, part of the
design. That’s why photography’s trees can never be the trees
of painting or of nature : we expect them to correspond to
themselves and then they slip, asymbolic, outside of religion,
outside of ritual until the upper limit of our nostalgia seems a
high green canopy and its lower a mat of rust-colored needles
so thick and acidic it permits no undergrowth, a perspective
intended for reverie. Nature is essential to photography’s
invention, but it’s the picturesque—a way of picturing nature—
that aids photography’s development. It becomes more difficult
to position the frame : does photography simply wipe out one
space in order to invent another? Good-bye, perhaps. The first
art in which God never existed, its trees arranged by men.

Discursive Glance

A Picture That Includes by Means of Its Structure the Excluded Space

I’ve held this
smallest forest

sticky with sap
haptic branches swaying

in nonce wind—
a syntax

outside the frame
of the visible—

and longed to be struck
as I should
to say I’ve loved

It’s no small thing

Let each eye
be believed

the way cicadas leave
clinging skins

split to drone
umbra’s grass

Let matter rest
in belief

it has lent itself
to all our purposes

liminal and image
the way veronica is

a flower
a girl watching
a matador

wave his cape
over charging eyes—

each only once
given one

of matter’s many
possible nouns

Let each pass by

or surprise

In that still space
we won’t stop

finding and losing
what we love

all day
we’ll keep on

because it once existed

it still exists

very arbor very body
very smoke

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