Time is frozen in Concrete Column III, which is of course what we have come to expect of photography. A monumental moment is captured and frozen in a minuscule moment in time, too brief to ever be seen as it passes in the blink of an eye. It is a metamorphosis we are seeing: the concrete particles flying about are transitioning from liquid to solid, both consequential states of being. Even though it is a solid, concrete acts like a liquid for a short period of time. In this picture I froze that liquid stage into a solid column. Still, looking super close up one can see momentary splashes.
Twenty years ago, I’m not sure I could have anticipated that I would be captivated by the act of poured concrete, however it does reflect my life-long fascination with materials and matter, and their evolution over time.
Technically speaking, even ten years ago, it would have been impossible to comprehend that this depth of information would become a possibility: gushing liquid concrete recorded in such infinite detail and so real. The digital camera has enabled pictures of endless information density, and this increased sharpness corresponds to what feels almost like a new mode of perception.
I find this humbling and not numbing. It forces me to let go of information. Let it wash through without getting cluttered.