I made the source photograph for this image while riding the Chicago Transit Authority's red line commuter train. As we rolled into the platform at Fullerton Avenue, I quickly made a few photographs, through the window, of the people waiting outside for the train doors to open.
The original image was simple to create, using a typical DSLR ("dx" format) and a 50mm lens. This 'source' image was duplicated four times, and then digitally manipulated in Photoshop, resulting in this final image.
Despite the mundane nature of the everyday moment which was initially recorded,
this image illustrates the hazards of depending upon photography as a medium conveying empirical truth.
My original photograph of a De Paul University student waiting for a subway train has morphed into an image of a pair of identical twins who serve as gatekeepers of a private garden. The viewer can examine their features and sense that the twins have contrasting personalities.
It was high noon, and the sun radiated glare and heat as I walked the perimeter of Jerusalem's walled Old City. I was dazzled by the intense light of August which reflected off the stone surfaces; I was intimidated by the sense of history and ancient time which emanated from these same stone blocks and buildings. It seemed as though different points in historical time were overlapping and converging, within this moment.
When I saw the dome of the Al-Aqsa mosque, I raised my camera. Using a wide-angle lens, I quickly made three photographs of sections of a corner of the ancient city wall; the mosque's dome was visible in the distance along the edge of the frame. Lowering the camera, I turned and retraced my steps, eager to get under some shade, and shelter from the sunlight. I gradually made my way back to more familiar surroundings. It was a long, slow walk on a dry and dusty day.
A few weeks later I returned to these three separate, detail images. I decided to stitch them together to form a single photograph, a vertical panorama, of this particular view of the wall. This single component, this new panorama, is the "building block" from which the rest of the image was constructed. After a few duplications and rotations, reversals and pairings, this composite image emerged.
This image reminds me of 19th century photographs by the likes of Maxime Du Camp or Gustave Le Gray, and the drawings of Piranesi. This is, certainly, a photograph made in Jerusalem; but it is also a representation of an Imaginary Jerusalem. In this regard it follows in the great tradition of artists and pilgrims alike projecting preconceptions on the surface of this great city. The Temple Mount figures significantly in the endtime scenarios embraced by Abrahamic faiths, and this photograph resonates with those religions' scenarios of The End of the World, which are predicted to occur within this very cityscape.
Riding public transportation at night in Chicago provides me with plenty of visual stimulation and subject matter. The cityscape reminds me of a stage set, and I am the sole member of the audience paying attention in the theater that is the #22 Clark Street bus. Each night as I return home, I photograph the passing scene through the bus window: I am a passenger, as well as an observer with a camera. The most common and mundane street scene transforms into a hallucinatory revelation when I engage in the art-making process: the result is a transformation of dreary expectations into conceptions "beyond the limits of reason".
In this case, I made two photographs within a few seconds, while the bus was momentarily delayed at an intersection. Because it was evening, requiring a long shutter speed, the camera's slightly wide-angle lens was placed directly against the window, to limit any unintentional camera movement (I never look through the camera itself when I make photographs this way). These two pictures were combined into one new image. This double-image was shortly thereafter duplicated, and I now had two identical double-images. The next step was to reverse the duplicate so that it was a mirror image of the first double-image. Finally, both images were then seamlessly joined to each other, and the resulting file was "flattened" in Photoshop, resulting in this final image.
It became a photograph of a shop selling poison, flowers, and poisoned flowers; I would exercise caution before entering, no matter how inviting it seems.
This image is the result of a double-exposure which was duplicated, reversed, and placed next to the original double-exposure. The image was then "flattened" in Photoshop, creating a new "original". When I made the initial image(s) during my visit to the Church, I was irritated because I could not photographically capture the entire dome within a single image; the space is simply too confining. I realized at the time of the initial image-recording that I would eventually have to somehow digitally create a rendering which would better describe the experience of being in this amazing place. While this final image does not absolutely accurately depict the architecture as it exists to the average tourist or pilgrim, it does reflect the feeling of awe and wonder I felt while standing under the ancient oculus.
Looking for more?
You can access more imagery by clicking on the phrase above which says"older posts". Many additional works can be viewed dating back to the earliest posts which initiated this blog.
135-.jpg)
+copy.jpg)
