The certain prospect of death could sweeten every life with a precious and fragrant drop of levity — and now you strange apothecary souls have turned it into an ill-tasting drop of poison that makes the whole of life repulsive.
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The certain prospect of death could sweeten every life with a precious and fragrant drop of levity — and now you strange apothecary souls have turned it into an ill-tasting drop of poison that makes the whole of life repulsive.
“I liked to do things with machines so I took up still photography, which seemed to offer that advantage, that of mediation, that of signaturelessness, of a a certain kind at least. The signature was in such things as framing and tonal scalings, abstractions as imperceptible as the infinitely thin clean line. So that one was not, as it were, the person hovering behind the artifact but rather behind the thing that made the artifact. And on the other hand, one did not have to laboriously build up this image. It was not made serially but came forward as a kind of matrix of thought instantaneously, in a manner that criticised the maker…”
Hollis Frampton | Recollections/Recreations